Page 94 of The Bratva King

“Quiet day, mostly. Had an incident in the parking garage about an hour ago.”

“What kind of incident?”

“Mugging. One of the dealers got her purse snatched. Security responded, but the guy was gone before they could grab him.”

“Is it handled?”

“Yeah. Police came. Took a report. The dealer didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

I’m moving toward the door when I get a niggling feeling at the back of my neck. “Which dealer?

“Uh…” He glances at his notes. “Blonde. Blackjack. Works the main floor.”

Every muscle in my body locks.

“Gabby Collins?”

He looks surprised that I know the name. “Yeah. That’s her.”

I’m out the door before he finishes the sentence. I scan the floor. She’s not at any of the blackjack tables. I check my watch. She would have been off shift by now.

I pull out my phone and call her. It rings. And rings. Goes to voicemail.

I move toward the employee break room. She’s not there, either. I head back to security.

“Where is she now?” I ask Connor.

“She left. Said she was fine. Didn’t want medical attention.”

“When?”

“Maybe forty-five minutes ago.”

Fine. She said she was fine.

I text my driver. Dammit. I should have driven myself today.

The traffic is always shit on the Strip, but right now, it feels deliberately orchestrated to keep me from getting home. I try calling Gabby again.

Voicemail.

I try the house line. Galina answers.

“Is Gabby there?”

“Yes.”

“Is she okay?”

There’s a pause. “Seemed fine.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

I end the call and stare out the window. She’s safe. In my home.

The Italians have been escalating. The delays at Tatiana. The inspection issues. The fire. All of it designed to cost me money and time. But they’ve never gone after my people. That’s a line they’ve been careful not to cross.

The SUV pulls through the gates and stops in front of the doors.