Page 16 of Seductive Sadist
Denis Stepanov, the miserable bastard who tried to marry his son Dmitri off to Valentina for a steep price. None of us knew about the arrangement until the wedding day, and before we could wrap our heads around why the hell my father would have agreed to the arrangement, he and my brother Dima were gunned down and Val disappeared.
I grit my teeth. Right after Alek called last night with the information we needed, I jumped in my car and drove up here to execute our plan. “Stepanov has been quiet since you killed Dmitri, Luka. Now we know why.”
“According to Alek’s contact, he’s been working secret underground deals with weapons manufacturers overseas, and recently sank his claws into Van Dyne for funding. The marriage to St. James will give them the legs they need to stomp all over our territories. And since fucking with our business threatens Red Ladro, Alek is all over this.”
I’d really like to storm into the reception and blow those fuckers all to hell for what they’ve done and plan to do to my family, but my orders were very clear. With a deep breath, I pick up my Glock 19 from the dresser and stick it in the back of my pants where it’s hidden by the tuxedo jacket, trying again to block the image of Skyla’s stricken face from my memory. I broke her once, and now I’m about to smash the shit out of the pieces I left behind. “I’m ready.”
“Okay, so you’ve got the layout. Alek sent pictures of the whole event wing. Get in, get out, and get the fuck back to Miami.” Luka sweeps a hand through his hair. “We still need to figure out how the hell to get into that safety deposit box in the Bahamas.”
A safety deposit box that requires a key, and not two, but three, fucking codes to open.
“You’d think Olek Moroz stuck the nuclear codes to the football in that box with the levels of security needed to unlock it.” I let out a dry laugh.
“Branko Ivanova wants what’s inside that box as badly as we do. He’ll bulldoze us to get to it if we don’t move fast.”
“He’s got nobody left. How’s he gonna take us out by himself?”
I glance at Danil on the screen and shake my head. “Come on, D, a guy like that has armies just waiting to launch an unexpected attack.”
“According to Alek, Red Ladro has the same Special Ops armies waiting to retaliate if Branko tries anything.”
“Yeah, and Valentina is part of that army.” Luka rubs the back of his head, pacing back and forth in front of his desk in his home office. “We need to do everything we can to protect her.”
My spine stiffens at the mention of my sister’s name. She’s been secretly working for Alek for the past few years trying to uncover the whereabouts of Branko Ivanova. None of us know details other than she’s part of the team he has in place to eliminate threats to the Red Ladro syndicate he oversees.
It seems like every time we get close to Branko, he buries himself farther in the trenches, so fucking deep, I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll ever find the motherfucker who’s killed a third of my family.
“So hang up the damn phone and let me get to work. I’ll call you when it’s done.”
“Remember what I said, Z. In and out. If the groom or any of his guys see you—”
“I guarantee Tyson is more focused on his dick being ridden later tonight than on me crashing his wedding.”
Luka narrows his eyes. “You just make sure that the only thing his dick will be riding is his hand.”
I smirk and click to end the call. One last look in the mirror makes me cringe.
I really do look like one of the waiters.
A few minutes, and a few private staff elevator rides later, I walk into the massive kitchen. Men and women dressed in the same lame-ass outfits as I am fly past with trays of intricately designed appetizers for the cocktail hour. I pick one up and follow a line of servers out the swinging doors.
Except I don’t enter the cocktail reception.
I take a sharp right down a private hallway.
After studying the pictures and the schedule for the event, I know exactly how much time I have to do my job. But my window of opportunity is damn small, and the risks of being caught are nothing less than deadly.
Not only for me, but for my brothers and sisters, too.
I duck around a marble column, pretending to arrange what’s on my tray when loud giggles and voices hit the air. A gaggle of bridesmaids in pink dance around in the hallway, champagne flutes clutched in their hands. All together they look like a cloud of cotton candy.
“Picture time, ladies,” a deep voice says. A man with a camera appears from the opposite direction. “Where’s my bride?”
“Oh, s-she’ll be out in a minute. She’s-s just fixing her makeup,” one of them slurs. She elbows one of the other girls. “You know s-she’s s-such an exhibitionist.”
They all giggle, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
I don’t know why I give a damn that someone is talking shit about the bride, but for some reason, it pisses me off.