Page 49 of Mafia Obsession

“I’ll be back here. Every night, Zervas.” He rubs the tattoo on his neck. “Until you give me what I want.”

I hope he wants a bullet in his head because that’s what he’sgoing to get.

Sinclair backs up into the security team that is always waiting outside this lounge when I have a meeting. By the time my door closes, I’m shaking with rage.

I unmute my phone. “Did you hear that?”

“Sure did,” Daria says, sounding intrigued. “What are you going to do?”

“We have to eliminate him immediately.”

“And the missing Bratva money?”

“Yuri would have taken Lourdes by now,” I say if this were true.

“David sounded convinced.” Daria challenges me. “He went to you as an alternative to the Bratva.”

Am I so blinded by how much I want this woman?

“If Sinclair hands Lourdes over to Kirill, then he’s out a wifeandthe money. David thinks he can sell her.” I grow livid every second. “But only if he knows where the money is first.”

“What are you going to do, Ares?”

Smiling, I say, “I already reached out to Rhys Quinlan. I’ll put Lourdes under one of my contracts when Sinclair is dead and make her tell me herself.”

Chapter 17

Ares

The following Tuesday, Rhys Quinlan, a scrappy, dangerous, six-foot, four-inch, long-haired Irishman, struts into my office.

Tapping a finger on my cheek, I wait for Quinlan Empire’s lead assassin to sit his ass in one of the upholstered chairs across from my desk.

“I need someone killed,” I say, avoiding any attempt to disguise this as a friendly catch-up meeting.

“Who?” he asks.

Rhys Quinlan is not only an assassin for his cousin Griffin, my brother-in-law, he’s a former security analyst for the Irish government.

“Someone who thinks he can sell drugs and guns out of my club,” I say, planting a lie to keep my motives hidden.

If Quinlan thinks I’m just protecting my business interests, he’s likely to carry it out with no questions asked.

“Why not take him out yourself, Zervas?” Quinlan asks me. “We know you’re quite lethal.”

“I don’t ask your cousin Griffin who should do the killing in yourempire.” I lean forward in my chair. “Or did you just get here?”

“Don’t you always keep at least seven guards around you?” he asks, and I’m impressed he’s been paying attention.

“Guardsguard. That’s what they do,” I inform him.

“Is this man a regular at your club?” The assassin sits back, looking mildly interested in the details. “Any patterns I can rely on? I can’t exactly sit in your club every night waiting for him to show up.”

“Got better things to do? Like your neighbor?” I smile and lean back, waiting for a reaction.

Idid not get here yesterday. I did my homework on Quinlan’s weaknesses, should this blow up in my face.

“How do you know about?—”