They’d been low level players in our backdoor gambling handled in private rooms in our casinos, men who lured high dollar players into the fold. They’d been allowed to earn their keep both with their hefty payrolls and their ability to keep their winnings when they sat in on a game.

  The only reason the fuckers had been added to our list of pristine employees was their abilities to disguise themselves. They were the masters of prosthetics, masks that no one could tell they were wearing. In addition, they knew several languages and had perfected various accents as well. Which meant they’d been able to pass as anyone we’d wanted them to.

  Their skills had been useful right up until the time they’d gotten greedy. Why was it I had a bad feeling they’d been lured into becoming bad boys? I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling. My gut was usually never wrong, something my brother had teased me about relentlessly. Whatever the case, they had to pay for their sins.

  “Let me worry about Phoenix. He knows how I am,” I said as I scanned the lavish interior. I had to admit, the establishment Gabriel Giordano, a founding member of the Brotherhood, had had a full hand in the incredible design for was spectacular. Phoenix could learn a few things.

  Not that I planned on telling him that.

  “Nice digs,” Christos said.

  “Very. I could feel right at home here.”

  “Yeah, you could. And that doesn’t give you a pass on the subject we were discussing. What the hell did you do with Frankie’s body?”

  “Nothing,” I said as I headed for one of two main casino floors. “Why should I? In a city like New York, murders from a Glock weapon are a dime a dozen.” That was one reason I’d selected the weapon carefully. I wasn’t a Glock fan, but I’d done my research on every city before I entered, every enemy. Very little caught me off guard, although I had to admit I hadn’t expected two men like Frankie and Whitie to be stupid enough to steal money from us so blatantly.

  All Phoenix and I had been able to think was that someone else was pushing their buttons. Since the Death Squad had come into the picture, another alliance of corporate and military men determined to rule the world, every member of the Brotherhood remained on constant edge. To me, the name was ridiculous, but it had been coined by various people on the black web who’d either heard of their power or had seen their devastation in action. The Death Squad was careful, taking over or destroying small operations from military to financial institutions throughout the world. For most leaders, their actions would mean little or nothing, but the Brotherhood had been watching them for years, more concerned than ever that whatever their end game, it was coming sooner versus later.

  Not that anyone knew who the fuckers were. The only way anyone had learned they were involved was by the brands burned into their skilled assassins, men and women committing their lives to the organization. It was crazy in my mind, but they obviously had their reasons for turning their backs on humanity and society.

  The similarities between the two organizations were eerie, including the secrecy of the members and the meeting locations, with one exception. From what had been discovered the past couple of years, the Death Squad was huge in numbers, maybe to the tune of a couple thousand or more strewn across the world. No one knew for certain. What the members of the Brotherhood had learned was that they had some huge plan for the future, which in my mind meant they truly did want to take over the world.

  So, when behaviors suddenly shifted to the left as quickly as it had with the Malone brothers, red flags were raised. Frankie hadn’t said a word during the few hours I’d interrogated him after tracking him to a surprisingly seedy motel.

  But I’d seen fear in his eyes and not because of what I was capable of doing. The man had surprised me by bolting from my hold the first chance he’d gotten and by grabbing Jenna. Had he really thought I was going to allow him to kill an innocent woman? He’d been specific about where he was going, even egging me on. In my mind, that had represented a lure of some kind, but I’d seen no other evidence of that.

  “Well, you still got big balls,” he continued. “I don’t like the way these dudes are acting.”

  “Yeah. Neither do I and we need to watch our backs,” I said as I scanned the massive room. It didn’t matter that it was barely after eight in the evening on a weekday. The place was packed. I’d heard the casino also had some of the best entertainment up and down the East Coast. Maybe I’d spend a little time talking with Giordano before I left, getting a few tips and tricks on obtaining the same level of celebrities.

  Our sites could always be a bit more upscale, even if it was a blue-collar kind of town. In my humble opinion.

  “You say that now? Christ, cuz. You just gave me the heebie-jeebies,” Christos huffed.

  “Stop worrying. We’ll be out of here soon enough.”

  “How the hell are we going to find this dude? Ain’t he a master of disguise?”

  “Considering the odd clothes we found in Frankie’s suitcase, I have a feeling Whitie is dressed up as a distinguished older man. I’ll know by the face mask. He can’t hide from me with his one blue and one brown eye. Even with a fucking contact lens.”

  “You are good at that. What happened when you got the dude last night?”

  “You mean other than the fact he tried to take a hostage?”

  Christos snorted. “Yeah, there’s that. Who was she anyway?”

  “Some vet.”

  “Like military?”

  “Like animals. You know, furry babies.” I could tell he had no clue what I was talking about. He wasn’t an animal person by any stretch of the imagination. Unless you considered the illustrious big steel Jaguar he owned a creature. “Just mingle and let me know what you see. Text me if you think you see him.”

  “Oh, wait. Like a veterinarian,” he said as he grabbed my arm.

  “Exactly.” I’d been lucky she’d been there in truth. Plus, I’d enjoyed the time I’d spent with her more than I should have. Leaving her cash had seemed like the right thing to do after she’d put herself out there. Also hearing her story, the hardships she’d endured had gotten to me and I wasn’t certain why. That wasn’t like me in the least. Maybe it was good enough incentive. At least she didn’t know my name or anything about me and in a city the size of the Big Apple, it would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

  Christos had cleared out the man’s motel room, tossing everything and cleaning every surface. No one would know the man hadn’t simply checked out. Now, his brother on the other hand had to know by now his brother wasn’t going to show up. While I was marginally surprised Whitie had chosen to come here, the other side of me remembered that neither man had been able to ignore the powerful lure of gambling.

  After all, every man on this planet had a vice, a cross to bear. Mine? Pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. I could live off the stuff.

  “She hot?” he asked then threw up his hands before backing away. He’d teased me relentlessly about my choice in women. Often, they weren’t my choice. In our line of work, the television commercials I’d become the star of since Phoenix didn’t like having his picture taken and Nico, my younger brother, refused to play the political games necessary to stay in business, every woman I’d dated had looked like a movie star. Of course, they had their plastic surgeons on speed dial, but men were envious of my little harem.

  Even if I’d been bored to death with my choices the last few years. I only used them for brief moments of sexual satisfaction. Even that had left a bad taste in my mouth. Maybe I was getting too old to be a playboy.

  I milled through the casino, seeing no one of interest. While the staff was dressed impeccably, that didn’t mean there was a requirement of a suit and tie for men or a classy dress or pantsuit for the ladies. The attire was as eclectic as the people gambling away their hard-earned money.

  After searching every table, I moved toward the smaller of the two rooms, standing in the doorway for a few seconds. The crowd was even larger, more rambunctious than the other one. While I’d been tipped off by one of Gabriel’s men Whitie was here, the soldier had been called to another duty, unable to keep an eye on the traitor.

  The quiet vibration of my phone was a good indication the man had been located. I admitted I wanted a nice dinner and a glass or two of scotch before heading back to the hotel. The longer this took, the later it would be, and my stomach was already growling. I glanced at the screen and grinned.

  The fucker had likely recognized Christos and thought he’d given him the slip by heading out back to the outdoor café, which led to the parking garage. I knew the entire lay of the casino and resort, mapping out every area in my head just in case Whitie had attempted to escape.

  If he did manage to jump ship without me catching up with him, it would tarnish the family’s reputation and I refused to allow that to happen. I was a consummate professional after all.

  I snickered at the thought, typing a response to meet me on the other side of the café as quickly as possible. At least Christos wasn’t my only soldier with a body built to be a bouncer. Christos had been an award-winning sprinter in school, which meant he could easily outrun me.

  I headed out the closest door, quickly scanning the perimeter.

  Whitie took that exact moment to stop and glance in my direction, drawing my attention to him and him to me. That’s when he took off running, shoving his way through the customers and waiters, the poor guys and gals dropping trays. The clattering sounds were matched with screeches and even a scream or two as the idiot decided to climb over tables when he couldn’t get around the people in his way.

  He also tossed chairs in my path, trying to break my stride. The more damage he caused, the more I cringed since I was in a borrowed establishment. Gabriel knew I was here and what I had planned. That didn’t mean he wanted his place jacked up because the traitor was being an idiot.

  I would provide another layer of punishment for that alone.

  While he continued doing everything in his power to slow me down, making it to the door leading to the parking garage, Christos appeared out of the blue, issuing several brutal punches to Whitie’s jaw and stomach. That prompted another round of screams and a small stampede, which didn’t bode well for every being invited to the fine establishment again.

  At least Whitie appeared down for the count. Now I had to decide where I wanted to cart him off to since I had about four hundred witnesses watching me. Damn it. The asshole was more trouble than the money he’d brought in.

  Exhaling, I slowed down, apologizing, something I almost never did, while picking up a few chairs as I headed toward the fallen man.

  Christos was pacing back and forth and if I knew him, he was cursing in Greek, when what appeared to be a maître d’ rushed in front of him, yelling at the top of his lungs. I should have known that hanging back for even a couple of extra minutes was a bad choice since Whitie lifted his head and from where I was standing, I could see a grin on his face.

  I took off running again, this time being the one to toss chairs and people out of the way. When Whitie slipped through the door leading to several floors of a parking garage, I was the one cursing, and certainly not under my breath.

  “Goddamn motherfucking son of a bitch asshole!” I flew toward the door, able to give Christos a hard glare before tossing open the heavy steel door. I raced into the main garage, taking several scattered breaths as I moved a few feet to one side then the other, finally stopping and holding my breath to try to hear something.

  Finally, I managed to grab the sound of footsteps heading down into the bowels of the building. Grinning, I flew down the stairs just as the door was flung open again, Christos rushing inside. With my Capo following closely behind, we made it to the next floor after I jumped off the last four steps onto the landing. Nope. He’d headed down another flight or two. I threw out my arm, stopping my second in command before he opened his mouth, able to realize the idiot had gone all the way to the bottom.

  I wasn’t cut out for this shit. Either that or I needed to spend even more time in the gym. I was fucking winded. What the hell? I pulled out my 9mm Heckler and Koch, holding it in both hands. One good thing about Whitie headed all the way to the bottom, that’s where the service staff usually parked, which meant there shouldn’t be any pesky tourists caught in the mix.

  Whereas I’d wanted to take my time with the man, given the crap he’d just pulled, I couldn’t leave more of a mess for Gabriel’s cleanup crew. That wouldn’t be the professional thing to do.

  Christos had his weapon in his hands. I motioned him with my head to the left while I went to the right. Given the way Whitie played blackjack, I had a feeling he’d headed to the right. It was just a usual force of nature, a habit not easy to break. I moved stealthily through the garage, marveling at the number of expensive vehicles, including those with employee tags.

  How the hell much did Gabriel pay his people? Here I thought we were generous. I heard what had to be a coin being dropped whether on purpose or by accident, my excellent hearing catching the exact location and I headed toward it. I was about ten feet away when two shots rang out, both missing the mark and hitting the concrete pole next to me instead. I dropped and rolled, using my vantage point to see a pair of legs under an SUV. Given my expert marksmanship skills, I simply fired a single shot and the asshole dropped like a bag of flour tossed from the top shelf in a kitchen.

  Or maybe I should say like a rat.

  The guy howled as I rose to my feet, remaining cautious as I moved between vehicles until I rounded the last one. There he was, the little pissant who’d dare cross both me and my family.

  I leaned on the hood of the Mercedes, giving him a hard look as Christo’s feet pounded in the distance coming my way.

  “Mia forá arouraíos, pánta arouraíos. Isn’t that true, Whitie?”

  “What the fuck does that shit mean? You know I don’t speak Greek, you fucker. You shot me. You shot me in the leg. You shattered my tibia.”

  “You stole money from the family to the tune of a couple million dollars, let alone a few trade secrets. I don’t think that makes us even. And what I said was once a rat, always a rat.”

  “Tit for tat and I’m not a goddamn rat.”

  “Then why were you and your brother seen meeting with a guy in a Ferrari?” I moved closer just as Christos finally bounded around the last corner, acting as if he was out of breath. I knew better. He was high on adrenaline, which is why he ran marathons and boxed at a local gym four nights a week, so his body didn’t feed off his heightened level of energy.

  “What? You need glasses, buddy.”

  “For a man caught red-handed stealing money, you certainly have a way of brushing this off. I don’t think that’s in your best interest.”

  Christos was obviously having a good time with me being able to hold back from my usual nasty attitude and quick-to-shoot mentality. Maybe spending time with the sultry woman with copper-colored hair, ice-blue doe eyes that could melt the heart of any man, and a body built for sin had tamed the savage beast.

  Or aroused him to the point I’d considered taking more than a single taste of her.

  Yeah, I was a bad, bad man.

  Christos folded his arms, not even holding his weapon on our rat. There was no need. We both knew that. Whitie died here today. Still, just to be cautious, I closed the distance, yanking the weapon from his hand. Another goddamn Glock. What was it? Did everyone read some assassin novel, reading that’s what all bad guys carried? I huffed in response to my thought.

  “Hey, I had no choice,” Whitie finally said. Now we were getting somewhere.

  “Go on. But you have about two minutes before I lose my patience.”

  “Okay. Okay.” He tried to sit up, groaning as his leg continued to bleed, seeping down to the concrete. Gabriel was going to kick my ass. “Look, some guy offered Frankie and me big bucks for one damn game.”

  “Why?’

  “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. It was one score, but the funny thing was that he wanted information. He had us provide him with answers to questions he made us memorize and ask.”

  “About what?” I glanced at Christos. It was weird. And it didn’t explain why a couple million dollars had been taken.

  “Stuff. You know, corporate stuff. Then he told us to leave and head to New York.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know but he wasn’t the kind of man to be fucked with. You know what I mean?”

  “And your brother. Was he also given instructions?”

  He was more nervous than before. “I… I don’t know. Frankie didn’t say shit.”

  Another lie but the guy was freaking out.

  I thought about the people who’d been at the last high dollar poker event. There’d been two CEOs of Fortune 100 companies, one in software for manufacturers and the other in gaming. There’d also been a financial guru and who the hell was the fourth man? No, it had been a woman. The daughter of some state senator. While I couldn’t remember the state, I did remember it seemed odd to see the four of them sitting together.

  “So you gave him the goddamn answers.”

  “Yep,” he said, stupid enough to try to stand but failing. “Fuck. Why did you have to hit me in the damn calf?”

  “Then why steal the money from the freaking safe?”

  “Because it was part of the deal. He was supposed to make it look like a robbery. I guess that wasn’t what he did.”

  Christos had a difficult time not laughing. When they ran the pieces on the dumbest crooks in the world, both Whitie and Frankie tied in the top five. They definitely weren’t that bright. And his disguise as an eighty-year-old man had been ridiculous this time.

  “What did you do with my brother?” Whitie demanded.

  “Let’s just saying he’s floating in the Hudson River. I ask the questions. Did you forget I have security systems everywhere?”

  “We were wearing masks.”

  “Right. The same ones you used while playing the game.” For the love of God, some gene pools shouldn’t be allowed on this planet. “Who was this person?”