“What basement?” says Bambi.
Something dark flitters across Viper’s face. “I found an angel in the wreckage.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s poetic for ‘I got help from an insider’. Now, can you please go and get us some food. Me and Bambi are starving…and don’t forget the fucking ketchup.”
With that he leans over to close the door in my face, my gun, and the conversation.
I plan to drop them off at the house, and then drive back into town.
Hovering on the double yellows outside my house in Bethnal Green, I wait for them both to climb out. At the last moment, Viper leans back in through the open passenger side window.
“Do I need to put a tracker on you?”
“I’m not going near her tonight. They’ll be Bratva crawling all over the house. Silas is back on surveillance.”
I need to get a second team on Alex as soon as possible.
Up until now, I’ve only kept a loose eye on Ada’s son. Our son. That changes today.
“Then where?”
“Red Encore. The new licenses just got approved thanks to a fifty-thousand-pound bribe. I want to make sure everything’s on schedule. We’re reopening on Sunday.”
“Gambling on God’s Day?” He shoves his messy dark hair out of his eyes and smirks. “Just out of interest, are there any of the Deadly Sins you haven’t committed?”
“I haven’t fucked your wife yet,” I say dryly.
“Don’t have a wife. Don’t plan on having one anytime soon, either.” There’s a pause. “You’re alright, Lastra,” he says, before adding with a sly smile, “For a hot-headed, son-of-a-bitch Italian mafia bastard.”
“I don’t date snakes, Viper, so stop trying to pick me up.”
“You know that me pointing my Glock at you was a sign of affection, right? If I wanted you dead, I’d have used a knife.”
“If I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Straightening up, he gives a bark of laughter and slides his arm around Bambi’s shoulders, bringing her in for a brotherly hug. “Don’t stay out too late.”
“Don’t wait up for me, either.” I nod at Bambi, who doesn’t smile back. I damaged our truce earlier by acting like a moron and pulling a gun on Viper. I’m back to being a rank outsider who's a bad influence, kills too many people, and can’t drive for shit.
It’s only when I’m stuck in a jam on The Mall and craving nicotine like a junkie that I realise she’s stolen all my cigarettes.
By the time I reach Park Lane, the traffic has dwindled to a steady stream of supercars. Leaving the SUV in a side street, I let myself into the casino, nodding at Thiago who’s back on desk duty again.
“Amigazo!” he calls out expansively, stretching up his arms in greeting.
“How’s it looking?”
He shrugs. “Not my taste, but it’s something.”
“Any trouble?”
“This place is as dead as that guy you killed earlier.”
“Good. We’ve had enough drama for one day.”
Pushing open the main doors, I’m relieved to see the place doesn’t look like a slaughterhouse anymore, with clean walls, a fresh paint smell, and a new rich crimson carpet to hide all the remaining evidence. The gaming tables have been re-covered in a matching red felt and the bar is fully stocked again.
Amazing what a million-pound incentive can get you.
Encore isn’t as elegant as Aiden’s Black Skies Casino in Monaco, but it’s more honest. The red and black colour scheme doesn’t hide the place’s lineage. We took it in blood to spill a ton more, and I’m not about to disguise that fact with gold ceilings and a load of fancy paintings on the walls.
My phone rings as I’m selecting a bottle of single malt from the top shelf for my evening’s entertainment.
“Silas.”
“Ada’s home alone,” he says, evenly. He was an SAS soldier before he joined the Met, so nothing shakes his cool. “I’m looking into your son now.”
“And?”
“He’s spent the last twelve years in Russia. Came back last year.”
“Does Ada know?”
“She doesn’t know shit about him, Frankie. She’s never seen him. Never spoken to him. Semenov hasn’t relented once in fourteen years.”
Fucking bastard.
“Was Alex there today?” My pulse beats to a hard tempo at the thought.
“I’d need to check. So far, Semenov has kept him on the fringes of all Bratva business.”
“Keep on it. I want regular updates from you and the team. Where are we with the dirty politicians?”
“They’re quaking into their Cabernet Sauvignons, but they’re ours.”
“Good. I need you to scope out a couple of sites for potential new nightclubs.”
“Send over the details and I’ll start now.”
Hanging up, I make my way to the private offices at the back of the casino, pausing outside mine when I see the door ajar and a slim sliver of light crossing my path with amber.
One of Viper’s men better not be jacking off to porn in there.
Kicking the door open, I find a tall, tanned and irritatingly handsome stranger sitting in my leather chair with his dirty boots up on my new Executive Desk, calmly spinning a Beretta 92 on the smooth mahogany surface, and using his forefinger as the pivot.
I pause, my gaze switching from the gun to his face as his chilly grey blue eyes flicker over me with interest.
“Are you lost?” I snap.
“Not that I’m aware.”
“We’re not reopening for another three days, so I suggest—”
“Good.” He lifts his finger from the gun and the spinning stops. “That means we have some time to get a couple of things straightened out first.”
His slow Texan drawl makes every word sound like a lazy threat. It’s false advertising, though. Everything about this man points to him being a killer, from the white scars crisscrossing his knuckles and left cheekbone, to the casual appropriation of my establishment. You don’t just stroll into a man’s casino and make yourself at home unless you have the balls and the bullets to back it up.
“Sit down, Frankie.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I know a lot of things about you. When Dante Santiago asks me to look into someone, I do my due diligence.”
At the mention of the Colombian kingpin’s name, my mouth paints a grim smile. I should have known Santiago would have eyes on us. He never makes any decision lightly.
“You’re a conflicted man,” he declares, steepling his hands in front of him.
“Conflicted, how?”
“Let me ask you a question.” He drops his feet from the desk and leans forward on both elbows to shoot it to me straight. “Love or revenge? Which one of them matters to you the most?”
I have a flash of a memory. I hear my father’s dying words in my head:
“Be as liberal with your vengeance as you are with your love, figlio mio. Don’t waste it.”