Page 27 of A Pawn in the Game
I force myself to take a breath. “I was just trying to wash your clothes. Since you’ve been wearing them for a week straight. I had no fucking idea he was going to come.” I drop the dry-cleaning bag on the bed and her eyes widen. “You might think I’m a bad man, but there are far worse men out there.” I point a thumb at the door.
“Oh, worse than dealing drugs and weapons and women, or whatever it is that you do?”
I smack my lips approaching the bed. “People will buy their guns wherever they come from. That’s not on us. Same thing with drugs. At least we make sure they get their shit clean. And women,” I shake my head, “that’s not something we’d ever do.”
“You sure about that? How about you ask your uncle?”
“Like I said. That’s not something my brother or I would ever do.”
I don’t have to explain myself to her. But she hit a little too close to home, after what Toma suggested tonight. I text Marko to come back down and as soon as he’s there, I get upstairs. My office is under construction, so I chill in the hallway to avoid thenoise.
Next up is Leon, and he picks up after only a ring.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he says.
“You know there was no way for her to escape.” I sigh, pouring a shot of rakia and downing it in one gulp.
“I don’t give a shit about that!” he yells before lowering his voice. “But you gave him a way in. Now he’ll be all over it.”
Unease settles in my stomach. I don’t want him to meddle in my business. And I certainly don’t want him or his men alone with Sophie. I was telling her the truth. There are men far worse than me out there.
“I know. Fuck, I know. But you know he’d do it, anyway.”
“I think Sophie has gotten too relaxed around there. You should really put a leash on her.”
I grit my teeth at that. “Yeah, I’m sure Father would love for us to torture innocent women in our basements.”
“He is dead, Luka. And maybe he wouldn’t be dead if he was willing to do what needed to be done.”
“So you’re agreeing with Toma now?” I roar. “You also think we should traffic young girls and rent them out in my club?” Spit flies from my mouth, but I’m too angry to care.
“Of course, I don’t think we should traffic anyone. But sex sells, you know that. And you’re the one who bought the club.”
I end the call, pushing my fingers to the bridge of my nose. They’re fucking insane.
The idea behind buying this club was to make a safe place for people to explore. My employees are free to fuck whoever they want, but I don’t want to get a cut out of it. Sex should be liberating, healing. Not a fucking business transaction.
My lighter flickers as I light my cigarette and type out a text to an acquaintance of mine to get me on the list of another club downtown. It’s a respectable, elite place I visited a few times.
Hopping into my truck, I stop home to change clothes. The dogs greet me as soon as I enter my penthouse apartment. Danica scrubs the already spotless kitchen island.
“What are you still doing here?” I ask, dropping my keys on the island.
She purses her lips noticing the keys. Her face is etched with wrinkles, but it doesn’t make her any less frightening. “I’m keeping them company.” She gestures her head to the dogs, currently circling my legs and my chest squeezes. “They miss you.”
I barely saw them in the last few days, spending every night at the club.I miss them, too. “I know. I’ll try to be around more.” Though I can hardly promise that. If anything, Uncle Toma’s help will mean I’ll need to spendallmy time at the club. Maybe I could take them there?
I shake my head, determining it would be a mess.
Like the kitchen, my bedroom is spotless. The dark bedding of my custom-made California king bed is neatly tucked, the bedside tables freshly dusted.Danica deserves a damn raise. My closet is all black, but unlike my typical attire, I change into a black suit and a black shirt underneath, leaving a couple of buttons undone. The suit is not as fancy as one of Leon’s, but it looks pretty good.
I say goodbye to the dogs, giving them cuddles while simultaneously trying to keep them from shedding all over me. Hades, the dangerous rottweiler, wags his tail so hard I’m afraid it’ll fall off.
Twenty minutes later, I’m parking my car in front of the club. I shove both of my guns in the glove compartment, looking around to see if it’s safe.
This is a stupid decision.The Russians are after us. They want us destroyed. And I’m walking around unprotected. But I need to take the edge off. I’ve been working nonstop for weeks now and I’m closer to a breakdown than I’d prefer.
Exhaling, I get out of the car and slam the door behind me. A small iron sign above the door is the only indication that I’m in the right place—L&L. I enter through the long hallway, reaching two burly bodyguards.
