Page 61 of Savage Little Secret

Once the SUV rolls up into the back parking lot behind the antique shop, the van holding the Albanian has already come and gone. Our men work quickly.

Andrei and I head inside, immediately hearing shouts and groans from the back where hostages are usually held. We stride down the hallway and into the back room where the man is already tied up, blood already forming a pool beneath him from the wound in his leg.

“You bastards!” he spits at us as he thrashes around, trying to break the hold of the ropes around his wrists and ankles.

“If you answer some questions, I won’t let you bleed out tonight,” I say as I walk toward him with Andrei.

Andrei pulls a knife out from his back pocket and waves it around at him. “Refuse and I’ll start taking pieces.”

The Albanian stiffens, his eyes watching the knife carefully as his reflection in the blade blinks back at him. “What the fuck do you want? Why the hell are you doing this?”

His accent is thick, but not too thick for me to not understand him.

“The Bratva don’t own all of Las Vegas.”

“We should,” Andrei mutters.

“I don’t care about your expansion plan. I care about one woman,” I say. “I’m sure you know of Sean O’Malley and the Irish mob here.”

The Albanian holds my gaze. “Maybe.”

“And his daughter? Cara?” I question him, my voice sharpening.

The Albanian frowns. “Didn’t know he had a kid.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t heard she’s missing?” I ask him again as I take a step closer to him.

He eyes me and shakes his head. “I don’t know this Cara woman. I only know that the Irish are not our friends. Why would I care about what happens to her?”

I glance over at Andrei, seeing the uncertainty on his face. It’s hard to tell if he’s telling the truth or not. Maybe I should put a little more pressure on him.

I step closer to him and drive my thumb into the bullet wound in his thigh, making him seize up in pain. “Are you sure about that? Don’t fucking lie to me!”

He thrashes around as much as the ropes will allow, his shout of pain echoing throughout the room. “I don’t know anything about her! I swear!”

I pull my thumb away and glare down at him. “Seems like a missed opportunity for you all. I already know you’re slowly infiltrating the city, trying to compete with Bratva and Irish businesses.”

He scoffs at me. “There’s nothing wrong with a little healthy competition.”

Smartass bastard. Does he really want to play with me right now?

“It would benefit you if the local Bratva families suffered,” I state, monitoring every twitch and shift of his expression in case it gives something away.

“That’s just a fact,” he replies evenly.

“A while ago, there was a shooting at the Wynn. I was a target. Some of my men were shot,” I tell him. “What do you know about that?”

He moves his shoulders like he wants to throw up his hands. “Nothing! Why would we open fire at a place like that? Too many witnesses.”

I still haven’t figured out who was ballsy enough to pull off that stunt.

“So, the Albanians are clean? You guys are just here to make bank on gamblers,” I question him with a slight sneer.

He narrows his eyes. “We’re minding our own damn business. You should do the same.”

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be passing out any warnings,” Andrei tells him from behind me.

The Albanian tightens his jaw. “Trust me, you and the rest of the Bratva don’t want to make enemies of us. You’re already off to a bad start.”