“Yeah, sorry, I’m here.” I give myself a mental shake. I need to keep my head in the game. We don’t have time for distractions.
“I asked what you see on your end.”
Right. With effort, I yank my attention off the woman in red and survey the men in the group near her. As I scan them, I spot a large, broad-shouldered man with slick, dark hair and a gigantic head I’d recognize anywhere. One of the black-cladbimbos clings to his arm, but his focus is fixed on the woman in red, who fidgets and appears as if she’d rather be anywhere else.
“Maksim Petrov is here.” I hiss his name into the microphone, and Darren responds with a choking noise.
“Petrov?” The disbelief in his voice is warranted. “The arms dealer?”
“The one and only.” I sip my Champagne to keep my mouth from hanging open.
This is bad. I don’t know how bad, exactly, but worse than we imagined.
The De Lucas don’t have the money or the manpower to operate at the level they used to, and they won’t be able to change that unless they create some alliances and recover their financial footing.
We’ve already discovered they’re in an official alliance with the Red Hill Mob. Not great but manageable.
If Leonardo De Luca counts the Petrov bratva among his family’s partnerships, however, we’re in deep shit.
Everyone knows the Petrovs are world-famous weapon smugglers. They’re no ordinary international crime syndicate. They’re a private billion-dollar armory for anyone who has the means to pay for their merchandise. The last thing we need is for the Petrovs to arm Leonardo De Luca and what’s left of his clan of assholes.
The Petrovs have terrorist contacts, plus more money than the Rockefellers. Leo De Luca needs money, that’s for sure. But what on earth could that broke dick have to offer the Petrov bratva in exchange?
My gaze returns to the woman in the red dress. She’s inching away from Petrov and gesturing over her shoulder as if she needs to leave.
Before she can retreat, Petrov grabs her hand in his slimy paw and raises it to his lips. The woman maintains a smile, butas soon as he releases her, she pivots with her nose crinkled up and wipes her hand on her dress.
Our eyes meet again. She stills and licks her lips, sending a shot of lust pulsing through my veins. I take a reflexive step in her direction before she breaks the connection and hurries away.
A crackle emits into my ear, followed by Darren’s voice. “I’ve got eyes on Leo.”
Those three words cut through my strange trance. “Where are you?”
“At the entrance to the VIP section.”
The VIP section?That could be the perfect place for me to gather some intel regarding who else of importance might be skulking around here tonight.
“Who else is VIP?”
“Red Hill boys.”
Should’ve known they’d be here. The De Lucas and the Red Hill boys are thick as thieves these days. We almost formed an alliance with Red Hill a few years ago, but the deal fell through after their heir battered Thomas’s daughter, Riley, who dated him before she ended up engaged to Finn. The whole thing is a soap opera and a half.
If Red Hill taught that cock-for-brains some self-control, maybe none of this would have happened.
I’m one breath away from asking Darren who else is there, but my focus shifts to the stage where a woman has just set a large painting.
After the emcee removes the protective cloth, a chorus of gasps erupts. Even Darren can hear the reactions.
“What’s going on down there?”
“They’ve just unveiled the next auction piece. It’s—” Shock pries the words right off my tongue.
“I give you a new, never-before-seen Libertas work!” the emcee exclaims over the applause.
Even I’m wowed by the piece. The whimsical way light and darkness dance together within the frame.
The shining moonlight over a little gingerbread house in the woods. The big window comprised of bars. The melted interior, created from streaks of vivid color.
