Page 122 of The Bratva Sinner

“Always.”

I spend the morning at the club doing business stuff. Invoices, payroll, and all the mundane things that keep my business legal. I take a call from one of my attorneys about a licensing issue. I had hoped to get home for a late lunch with Lila, but it’s not going to happen.

I’m in my usual perch in the VIP section, surveying the floor below. I can’t explain it, but I feel like the other shoe is about to drop. I hate that I can’t figure out when and where it’s coming.

Damien appears beside me. His jaw is clenched, and I think he actually looks sad.

“Fuck,” I groan. “Now what?”

He leans in close, so the music covers it. “They found Briar. Couple of fishermen pulled her out of the bay about an hour ago.”

I inhale, exhale slowly, and process the information.

“How long?” I ask.

“Don’t know. She didn’t drown, Maksim.”

She wouldn’t have. They wouldn’t have given her that.

I set the glass on the railing and stare at the dance floor below. Briar wasn’t a good person by anyone’s measure. She betrayed me. She tried to kill Lila. I won’t pretend she was innocent.

But she was young and afraid of something bad enough that she made terrible choices to protect herself. She thought she had to kill Lila to save herself. She could have come to me. I would have saved her.

She did what they wanted but failed to kill Lila, and they killed Briar for that failure. They would have killed her anyway.

That’s what Arlind does. That’s who he is.

“Who else knows?” I ask.

“Police will have her ID by morning.” He straightens. “She’s connected to us.”

“Nothing illegal,” I remind him. “I’ll be questioned. I’ll call Baker and let him know to have his phone handy.”

Baker is the criminal defense attorney I keep on a retainer. I rarely need him, but this situation could easily spiral. I don’t know who the Albanians are manipulating. There could be “evidence” to point the police in my direction. I have to be ready.

I turn away from the railing. “Double everything. Every house, every club, every car. Nobody moves alone. Nobody goes anywhere without checking in. I want two-man minimums on every rotation, starting tonight. I’ll talk to Cinder. No new clients.”

“Already calling it in.”

“The women in the houses need to know the protocols have changed, effective immediately. I want every person in every house questioned.”

“Cinder’s probably better at that,” Damien says. “Less intimidating than me or one of the guys.”

I give him a look. “Have you met a pissed-off Cinder?”

He laughs. “Right. I’ll get on it.”

“This will never be over,” I mutter.

“We’ll handle it,” he says with zero confidence.

“Or they will,” I add.

“They’ll try,” he corrects.

He’s right. Love makes monsters out of men. And I love my wife.

33