When Las Vegas appeared on the horizon, my belly flipped and my mouth became dry. Over a decade. The girl who’d left this city long ago didn’t exist anymore—or so I hoped.
“How long?” I asked, my voice hushed.
Adamo squeezed my hand but even his touch didn’t calm me now. “Ten minutes.”
Not enough time to brace myself for what lay ahead. Now that I got closer to my goal inner calm seemed impossible to reach.
Ten minutes later we pulled up in front of the Sugar Trap. I pushed open the door, tearing away from Adamo’s grip. I drew in a deep breath, fighting against the tightness in my chest. The mere sight of the neon sign brought back memories from the past, from the days and weeks prior to Remo giving me back to my father. Las Vegas was filled with horrible memories for me. It wasn’t the only city though. Even before Mother and I had moved here, she had allowed the men who gave us shelter to abuse me.
“Dinara?” Adamo asked carefully, walking up beside me.
“I’m fine,” I pressed out before he could ask. “Lead the way.”
Adamo took my hand and I let him as he led me toward the shabby black door leading into the Sugar Trap. It was a whorehouse, the first establishment of the sort I set foot inside since that fateful day many years ago, and the place that would determine my future.
Adamo opened the door and held it open for me. I stepped into the dimly lit ante-room with its cloakroom and a huge black bouncer sitting at a table. His eyes briefly narrowed on me before they moved on to Adamo and he gave a curt nod.
Adamo didn’t say anything, only gave the man a tense smile, before he led me along. My legs felt leaden as I followed him into the bar area of the Sugar Trap where johns could check out the selection of whores and chat with them until they went into one of the backrooms for the actual deed. Now the area was mostly deserted except for a dark-skinned man behind the bar counter, taking stock of the liquor cabinet. It was still too early for customers.
My eyes took in the red leather booths, black lacquer décor and the dance platforms with silver poles. The color scheme hadn’t changed nor had the general vibe of the establishment. But it seemed smaller now, and less daunting. For the small, distraught girl from the past everything had seemed so much bigger. Now it was a dingy bar like any other, not so different from the ones Dad had in Chicago. I wasn’t allowed to set foot in them but I’d seen photos. I handled all the online presences of the clubs and bars on the internet as well as Darknet for Dad’s section of the Bratva. I had a penchant for computer sciences, so it was a way to feel useful and justify the endless amount of money at my disposal.
My pulse didn’t slow as we crossed the bar, even if I didn’t catch a hint of danger. Adamo threw me another worried look because I’d slowed even more. “We don’t have to meet my brothers. We can return to camp.”
“No,” I said sharply. “I have to talk to Remo.”
Some parts of my life, of my past, had remained out of my control, and I needed to yank control back. I needed to talk to someone who’d been there.
Adamo nodded but I could tell he wasn’t convinced. He couldn’t understand. I wasn’t sure if anyone really could. He’d gone through some messed up shit, especially with his mother, but what he’d done, attacking her, had been a spur of the moment thing when it was his brothers’ lives or hers. My deepest desires went so much further.
“Let me talk to my brothers before I take you to them, all right?” he said. “Why don’t you grab something to drink? I’m sure Jerry will gladly give you whatever you want.”
Jerry looked up behind the bar and gave me a quick smile, all white teeth in his dark complexion.
I released Adamo’s hand and he disappeared through the backdoor. I headed for the bar but didn’t sit down. “Do you have vodka?”
Jerry grinned. “Of course. And a good one if I might say so.”
He poured me a generous glass of Moskovskaya, definitely not the worst vodka. I took a sip, my eyes returning to the door where Adamo had disappeared through.
By now, Dima would have noticed my disappearance and would have alerted my father. That was why I’d left my cellphone in my car in camp. I didn’t want Dad to track me to this place and send his soldiers to save me, when I didn’t want or need saving. At least not the kind of saving he had in mind.
The door swung open and Adamo stepped through followed by two tall men. In my memory both Remo and Nino Falcone had been giants, but now I realized that Adamo was their height. They had seemed so much taller for a little girl. I emptied the glass in one quick gulp, enjoying the burn and the resulting warmth.
Remo’s mouth twitched when he followed my actions. His eyes held recognition and the hint of dark amusement. No sign of pity. His brother Nino’s face was completely void of emotions, just like I remembered it. I didn’t wait for them to approach me, instead I walked in their direction, my head held high.
I was aware of their reputation, and Adamo’s protection would only go so far. They were his brothers, and even if he enjoyed my company, his loyalty lay with the Camorra and his family as it should.
I held out my hand to Remo. “It’s been a long time.”
Remo nodded with another twitch of his mouth and briefly shook my hand. “Indeed. You changed.”
Adamo positioned himself at my side and touched my hip. I briefly glanced his way, surprised by his closeness and his open sign of our togetherness. I couldn’t deny that it warmed my chest more than the vodka had done.
Both Nino and Remo glanced at Adamo’s move but didn’t comment. Dad would probably have attempted to kill Adamo at this display of affection.
“Haven’t we all?” I said. “Change is inevitable.”
Nino inclined his head and shook my hand. “How about we continue our conversation in the office?”
“That sounds reasonable,” I said.
Remo and Nino exchanged a look before they headed back through the door.
Adamo smiled encouragingly, his thumb sliding along my hip. “You are safe in Vegas.” His dark eyes held absolutely no doubt.
“I know,” I said and briefly kissed him. We followed his brothers, past a long row of closed doors. My belly flipped when I recognized one of them as the door to the room where I’d spent my night. More memories from that day took shape. Cody’s face, which had been shrouded in darkness up until this point manifested before my inner eye, and with it came a wave of revulsion.
Remo threw a look over his shoulder before he opened the door to what I assumed was his office. He scanned my face and I steeled myself, remembering Adamo’s words about his brother’s talent to recognize other people’s weaknesses and darkest emotions.
When I entered the office with the boxing sack, desk and sofa, my breath briefly caught in my throat, as the events from a decade ago appeared in my head. Cody’s horrified expression, Mother’s attempts to bargain with the Capo, and his fury over it. Adamo closed the door with a soft click, but I jumped anyway. I could have kicked myself for this sign of distress because it didn’t go unnoticed. All three men registered my jumpiness. If I didn’t get a grip, they’d see me as the sheep among the pack, not another wolf.
Adamo rubbed my waist again and while I appreciated his support, and would eventually tell him so, I needed to show strength. I hadn’t come this far to cower like the girl I had been in the past. I’d moved beyond her. I had changed.