“Feels a little like déjà vu, yeah?” Patrick says, taking a long gulp of his.
“Yeah, I’d really like to forget that fucking night at Tatiana ever happened,” I grumble. “Although, having your idiot brother here in town makes that hard.”
“I haven’t seen him in the past week,” Patrick says. “And neither have Quinn and Niall.”
“I’d hope that would mean he’s dead, but I know that’s not the case.”
“So what’s the plan, Dante?” Patrick looks at me with a lifted eyebrow. “He’s the one keeping this wedge between our families. It’s killing my father, even though he’d never admit it because he’s a stubborn ass. Niall and Quinn are thawing and it pisses Conor off. I think he’s on the brink of doing something really stupid to secure his place as boss of our family.”
“There’s no shortage of stupid when it comes to Conor,” I grunt, draining the rest of my glass. “I don’t know what Matteo and Heaven are going to do if he just shows up tomorrow. If it were me, I’d shoot him on sight to keep him away from my family.”
“But the Russians will still collect, whether or not he’s out of the picture,” Patrick says.
“They have their own beef with us.” I shake my head. “If Conor really did pile on and screw them over, they’ll come for us. All of us. Nobody will be safe. That’s what has Heaven and Matteo so crazy. They know it. And there’s no guarantee that we get rid of the Russians once we pay, either. They like to leave their own big, red marks, you know what I’m saying? We need another plan.”
“Yeah, so us killing Conor doesn’t do a damn thing to help any of us.” He rolls his eyes heavenward. “This is so damn twisted, Dante. My mother is probably rolling in her grave over this whole thing.”
“Well, find peace in the fact that he tried to kill Heaven, and he’d do the same to you if he had the chance.”
“True.” He smirks. “Fuck him.” The bartender puts down two more highballs of whiskey in front of us.
She nods toward the opposite end of the bar, and two brunettes raise their glasses and flash their best come-hither looks at us.
“Come on, let’s go down there and say thank you,” Patrick says, picking up his glass. “It’s been a stressful week. I need to unwind.”
“In that case, you can have both of them. I’m good.”
“Seriously, man?” He furrows his brow. “Who are you?”
I shrug. “I may have something going with the nanny.”
Patrick laughs. “You kinky fucker. Isn’t she a kid? Heaven says she’s young.”
“She’s not that young. No younger than those girls who sent over the drinks,” I say. “And I’m not that old, dick.”
“I thought you were on your way outta here after the christening. Back to the love affair you have with your sniper rifle.”
“Yeah, well, my plans kind of changed recently.”
“Like when you started fucking the nanny?”
I smirk and take a sip of the whiskey. “Maybe.”
“Well, it looks like both of us are gonna get laid tonight.” His eyes take on a wicked glimmer and he picks up his glass. “You sure you don’t want to sample the buffet?”
“Nah, I’m good with my a la carte selection. You get your fill, though.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He laughs. “Funny, you know, ’cause there are two of them.”
“You’re hysterical, Patty.” I roll my eyes and twist away from him, checking out the rest of the dining room when a flash of blonde hair falls into my line of sight…in a dress I’ve seen before.
Unfortunately, that’s not the only thing I’ve seen before.
Boris, the Russian guy who works for the Volkov Bratva, is sitting in the back corner of the dining room.
And his dinner guest is none other than Anya.
My Anya.
I blink fast to see if it’s really them, or if the whiskey is making me hallucinate.
It isn’t.
I clutch the glass tight in my fist.
Her uncle.
Her fucking uncle?
He’s the bastard who vowed revenge on my family, on behalf of the Volkov Bratva.
A chill settles deep in my bones.
Vigo worked for the Volkov Bratva, too…
Blood rushes between my ears and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The Band-Aid.
The five-pointed star.
The familiar way she tasted and felt pressed against me.
It can’t be a coincidence.
I tried to push those things to the back burner, tried to ignore them, but those inklings still festered deep in my mind.
Now they manifest into huge questions that only Anya can answer.
Will she, though? How far is she willing to go to keep me from the truth?
And the biggest question remains — what in the hell does she want from my family?
Only seconds later, I get the exact answer I was looking for.
Conor Mulligan strolls in from a side door and comes up behind Anya. I can see her body stiffen as he hisses into her ear.
I wanna know what he said.
I wanna shoot him fucking dead.
With a rocketing pulse, I watch as Boris gets up from the table and leaves the dining area. Anya and Conor are left alone, and the tension between them is so thick, I can see it hovering in the black cloud above them.
They’re working together.
Against us.
And now I know the truth.
The question is, what am I going to do with it?
I glare at their table, clenching my fists.
Welcome to Vegas, Conor.
Are you feeling lucky tonight?
Because I sure am.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Anya
Uncle Boris nods at the man. “Anya, this is my partner. Conor Mulligan.”
My brow furrows and Conor flashes bright white teeth at me. He looks like an evil doppelgänger of a young Brad Pitt. Hot but ominous.
At least, that’s what the expression on his face tells me.
“I believe you know my sister, Heaven.”
I suck in a breath. Oh my God… “You,” I gasp.
He holds up a hand. “Now, don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who believes everything they hear without getting all sides of a story.”
“There are obviously reasons why they won’t let you near them,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I heard enough from Heaven. And seeing you here now tells me those reasons are pretty damn valid.”
Conor gives Uncle Boris a look. “Give us a few minutes alone. I think Anya needs a little more convincing.”
Boris slides his chair along the floor and walks away from the table. My jaw drops. He doesn’t even look back once. Just leaves me with this evident sicko stranger.
And that blood of his runs through my veins, too.
Good God, I’m fucked.
“You’re good at what you do, Anya. You fly under the radar, you follow instructions, and you deliver. You handled Vigo, that cocksucker. Escaped without a trace.” Conor grins. “I like the blonde hair better, for what it’s worth. Sexy.”
Bile rises in the back of my throat. “You knew about Vigo?”
“I know about everything,” he says in his thick New York accent. “I even know that my own brother and his dipshit sidekick, Dante Villani, were tailing me that night. I have eyes and ears everywhere, even out here.” An evil laugh escapes his lips. “You’re fitting in well, too. Getting fucked by the enemy.”
“He’s not my enemy!” I say through gritted teeth. “I know the truth now!”
“You only know what you know.” He lifts an eyebrow and sits back in the chair, folding his arms over his chest.
“What I know is that you and my uncle baited me. You sent me out here under false pretenses. He knew I’d never go along with this if he told me the truth about that night.”
“Yeah, well, now you know. But guess what? It doesn’t make a difference,” he hisses. “You’ve gained their trust and made it possible for me to get close.”
“They’ll never let you get back in! Heaven doesn’t trust you. She told me so herself. So whatever you have planned, it’s not going to work!” The legs of my chair scrape against the floor as my body shoots up out of it for the second time.