Page 73 of A Pawn in the Game
I flick the cigarette box open, extracting another smoke and light it up, desperate for it to calm me the fuck down. It makes no sense. Me and Ozzy were good. Over the years, we made him a very rich man. Him making a deal with the Russians doesn’t make any damn sense, especially since they don’t care what they sell, and Ozzy prided himself on the quality of his product. Still, no one other than him and us knew the new drop-off location.
Who the fuck is responsible for this?
Just as I’m about to punch my fist through the battered door, my phone pings with a text.
Ivan
She’s working out. She looks better.
My shoulders relax, my fists unclench, and I take the first deep breath since this morning when I left the dungeon. It should be concerning. Our business is falling apart, and I feel better because the girl I kidnapped has done a couple of pushups. Still, the rage that was bubbling simmers down to a low boil.
I type a quick text to let Leon know what happened and get back in the car. We peel off the lot faster than the gravel road allows, swerving as we turn. Andre is smart enough to stay quiet as I drop him off in front of the club and head home.
If Sophie’s doing well, the last thing she needs is seeing me like this, on the verge of a breakdown. It’s not like I can tell her I can let her go. If anything, shit’s more complicated than it was when I firsttook her. We’re further away from finding Landers and getting our shit together. I grip the steering wheel with enough force to tear it off, emotions swirling inside of me like a cocktail of shit.
After an hour-long workout with the punching bag and a five-mile walk with the dogs, I decide it’s time to get back to the club.
The music is loud, and the place is already crowded, which only grates on my nerves. The damn waitress that’s still flirting with me shoots me a sultry smirk, but I look away. I pass the bar, and Ivan exits the hallway to my office and the dungeons.
He smirks as he notices me. “Check this out,šefe.”
“This better be good news.”
He opens the door of my office, and I realize it’s finished. The disgusting wood paneling is gone, replaced by cement-colored walls. No more velvet chairs or destroyed wooden furniture. The center of the room is a long black desk, with a steel construction. The chairs are black leather.
“Now, this is more like it.” I let out a relieved breath. Thank fuck something is moving in the right direction.
“What are we doing next?”
I should probably put a pause on all the work around the club and focus on dealing with the Russians. But why give them the pleasure of postponing my plans?
“We’re gutting the back room. It can stay open for the night, but tomorrow, I want it gutted.”
“Sure thing,šefe.” I can hear the excitement in his voice.
Unfortunately, another voice appears while I’m still looking at my new office. “I don’t think closing off the back room is a good move right now.”
“Uncle…” I grit out, turning around to see his short form. His bald head is sweaty, just like his upper lip. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He narrows his eyes, seeing right through my sarcasm. My brother stands behind him, rolling his eyes at me.
“We have some things to talk about,” my brother says, eyeing my office.
“Let’s grab a drink in the bar,” I suggest, not wanting Toma’s sweat all over my fresh chairs.
Leon purses his lips, but I make my way out front and the both of them follow me. One gesture of my hand is enough to scare away the guys in one of the booths. I slump down into the weathered leather seats, sending a pointed look at the bartender.
I’m way too sober for my uncle.
“As I was saying, the back room should stay open. The girls can make us a lot of money there,” he says.
The hair on the back of my neck stands. Luckily, the bartender brings us a bottle of rakia, and I make quick work of pouring myself a glass and downing it before responding, “Like I said, the back room will be closed for renovation.”
“You see…” He turns to Leon while pointing at me. “It’s obvious he’s doing it just to spite me. He doesn’t care about the business, because if he did, he’d know this was a good business idea.”
“This is my fucking club, and I’ll decide what’s going on with it.” The music thumps in my ears, but it’s unfortunately not loud enough to drown out Uncle’s voice.
Leon levels me with a glare, but he’s an idiot if he expects me to play nice with him anymore.
