The sounds of Mila’s heels echoed through the abandoned metal chop shop. She found it odd that in the middle of the day, the shop would be empty. It was owned by one Lazar Zivic. She was there to collect a debt from the Serbian immigrant.

Davor followed behind her as they made their way to the office. Her pulse was up with the anticipation of what was to come. She thrived on the thrill of collecting a debt. But today’s debt would be one of flesh. Lazar had not paid one dime back of the money he had borrowed.

Loud noises came from the office area. Davor brushed past her and rushed ahead. Looked as if they had a runner. She jogged behind her enforcer and found him grabbing the man as he tried to climb out of the first-floor window of the office.

“Oh, Lazar.” She stood in the doorway as she watched Davor drag the struggling man across the floor and around the desk with one hand. It always amazed her how strong he was. He turned the chair that sat in front of the desk around before slamming the shop owner down into it.

She glared at the man as he sat there, shaking in front of her. She tried to calm her racing heart. The man trembled at just the sight of her.

“Kollektor,” he uttered as his eyes focused on her.

“My family has been very generous to you, Lazar—”

“Please, let me explain—”

“You move to America from Serbia and we open our arms and pockets to help you get on your feet,” she continued, ignoring his begging. “We have lent money to you not once, but twice.”

“I’m so sorry,” he cried out. “I need more time.”

“It looked as if you were leaving. Where were you going, Lazar?” she snapped. Slowly making her way into the room, she stopped directly in front of him. It pissed her off that he owed her family a debt, and he was caught crawling out of the window, trying to make a run for it.

“Nowhere. Just cleaning my off—” he screamed as she grabbed his left hand and bent back his first two fingers, snapping them. Her anger mounted at his lies. She was in no mood to chase anyone.

Not today.

“Don’t lie to me,” she snarled, bending his fingers back farther. Her eyes narrowed on the crying man. Did he think her to be stupid? Clearly, he was trying to escape and run for it. Why else would a busy chop shop be closed during the day?

“Look what I found,” Davor said as he rummaged through a box on the desk. It must have been what Lazar was planning to take with him before leaving.

“Don’t move,” she growled, walking over to the desk. Davor pulled out two large wads of hundred-dollar bills and a handgun.

“Oh, Lazar, you have been a bad boy,” she declared and shook her head. He would pay. If he had just made payments, she wouldn’t be here. The organization’s banker would have worked with the shop owner, if only he would have been up front and honest and made the fucking payments. “You told my banker that you didn’t have any money. What is this?”

She swung her arm, her hand connecting with his head in a slap. She motioned for the handgun. Davor handed it to her and shook his head, for he knew what was to come. She was there to collect a debt. Her leather gloves would keep her fingerprints from being found on the weapon. She walked around the pitiful excuse of a man as she checked the chambers. It was loaded already.

Perfect.

Lazar whimpered as she stood before him with the loaded gun in her hand. Looked as if she would be saving her own bullets today. Her glock could stay strapped to her thigh for this.

She aimed and pulled the trigger, hitting his right foot. He let out a tortured scream as he flailed in the chair.

“Stop screaming!” she roared. Her arm lashed out with the gun, connecting the weapon with his jaw. His head snapped back from the force of the blow. Blood pooled in his mouth and began flowing out of the sides. He held his head down, where she could no longer see his eyes. Her emotions escaped her as she stared down at the stifling man.

“Please, I’ll get you the money,” he chanted repeatedly.

She held no regard for him or his life. Respectable men paid their debts.

“Please, Kollektor,” he begged again, louder, his pitiful eyes now on her. Davor strolled from behind the desk, taking the wads of money with him as he stood behind her.

Her eyes took in a dark puddle that appeared on his lap as he sniffled and begged for his life. This was the part that sickened her. They always begged and tried to negotiate. She was sure that was to come next.

“Take the money as payment. Consider me late—”

She raised her arm and pulled the trigger, silencing his words forever. The sound of the gunshot was brief and loud, leaving a dark red hole in his forehead. A look of horror was frozen on his face as his body slowly slumped down in the chair, before it slid to the floor with a thump. She tossed the gun to the floor next to the body.

She turned and brushed past Davor. “Torch this fucking place,” she demanded as she walked out of the office.

He got off way too easy. A bullet to the head was an easy way out. For owing over fifty grand, she should technically be taking his head to her brother, but she didn’t have time for such a personal delivery. Tonight was the charity event, and Pasha would have her ass if she were to be late.

She stalked through the empty shop, knowing that Davor would take care of any and all evidence.

No one fucked over the Tokhan Bratva. All debts must be paid, either in cash or flesh.

* * *

Upbeat, soft rock music filled the air as Kole escorted Meghan into the lavishly decorated ballroom of the Chateau Hotel. Denis moved from behind them once they were in the ballroom. Meg didn’t bat an eye at the heads that turned her way as they walked past other guests. She was a curvy blonde with bright blue eyes. A knockout. He knew that they complimented each other well, with her lightness against his dark, olive complexion and jet-black hair.

“I’ll be around,” his bodyguard informed him. Kole nodded as Meg entwined her arm with his, drawing her body closer. For as long as they had been friends, it was second nature to hold her close.

Corneal Galca, Kole’s captain and second in command, had brought his wife as well to the party. Cassidy Galca was a beautiful woman that his captain was crazy over.

“We’ll meet you at the table in a while,” Cassidy announced as she dragged Corneal toward the dance floor.

“As the wife wishes,” Corneal chuckled, throwing a salute Kole’s way. Kole couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at his captain. What Cassidy wanted, Cassidy got.

“This is some party,” Meg murmured as they made their rounds around the room.

“That it is,” Kole replied as his eyes took everything in.

He recognized many crime lords from all over the world, all networking and enjoying the party, as if they weren’t the most dangerous men and women in the world. This was the one time that the world’s warlords were at a truce. Organized crime at it’s finest. Not only was the event for charity and raising money, it was a front for the world’s villains to network.

No one was allowed to break the truce on this night or they would be subjected to punishment by the high crimes council, the Black Society. The council was a roundtable of the most distinguishable crime lords. Nine members sat on the council, and no one crossed the Black Society.

Security was tight, as this was one of the most talked about charity events in town with the wealthiest people in the world.

“Is everyone in the same business as you?” Meg asked, her perfectly arched eyebrow raised. Those clear blue eyes of hers didn’t miss a thing. She knew of his business and the family organization, but that was all she knew. He never went any deeper about the Belotov’s.

“You’ll be safe,” he promised as he led her to the bar. That was a promise. He would never let anything happen to his old friend.

“I better be.” She smiled as they reached the bar.

He playfully pulled a strand of her hair before ordering their drinks. He leaned back against the bar as they waited for the busy bartender. The event was in full swing. There would be an auction of antiques and artwork that would raise more money for the charity. The price for entrance was hefty, but the items that would be for sale would be almost priceless.

“So what are we doing here?” Meg asked, handing him his glass before taking a sip of her champagne. “I’m sure this is work for you.”

“Business never stops,” he acknowledged, tipping his vodka toward her. She briefly touched her glass to his before taking another sip. He went back to taking in the crowd, knowing who he was looking for, but he didn’t see her.

“Oh boy, do I know,” she murmured, her eyes roaming the crowd.

“Hey, same deal as always.” He turned to look at Meg. He didn’t want her to feel obligated to have to stay with him tonight. If she wanted to leave with a hookup, it was cool with him.

“Deal.” She offered her fist and one fist bump, sealing their deal.

“You want to dance?” she asked, placing her empty glass down on the counter.

“You know I don’t dance.” He shook his head as she pulled on his arm. Meg loved to dance. When they were in college, she had attempted to teach him, but he failed to learn. He quickly knocked backed the remainder of his vodka and slammed the glass down on the bar.

Murmurs from the crowd gained his attention as she led him toward the dance floor. He paused, causing Meg to stumble slightly. He grabbed her arm to steady her as he looked toward the entryway to the ballroom. Pasha Petrovna stood in the doorway with a gorgeous blonde knockout on his arm.

Excitement filled the air around them. Kole scowled at the reaction of the crowd. He knew the real reason everyone was clamoring to see the Petrovna’s was because it was rumored that the patriarch of the crime family would be present. Salagin Petrovna was a member of the Black Society. It was rare that the nine members of the society would be seen in a public place together. Tonight would be the one night that everyone would see them in the same room.

“Who is that?” Meg murmured as she leaned over to see.

“Pasha Petrovna,” he replied in her ear over the crowd’s chatter.

Her eyes widened with recognition, but the increase in noise level had him turning back to the entryway. He didn’t want to stand there gawking at the Petrovna’s like they were rock stars or something. He went to move, but his feet refused to as his eyes took in the people who now stood in the same spot that Pasha had just stood moments before.

Salagin Petrovna stood in the entryway with his expensive black tuxedo. But it wasn’t the patriarch of the most notorious crime family that caught his attention, it was the dark-haired siren that stood by Salagin’s side.

Mila.

His eyes narrowed on her as she began to circulate the room with her father. The way her hips moved in the form-fitting dress should have been illegal. The way they swayed as she walked was absolutely hypnotizing. Her floor-length lace dress was silver in color, but entirely see-through. It had patterns embedded in the lace that covered her most private areas, leaving little to the imagination, and as Kole tore his eyes off of her, he could tell that every other male in the room with a heartbeat had noticed her too. A growl escaped his chest as he watched other men take in Mila and her dress.

“I know that look, Kole Bozovic. Don’t worry about me tonight. I’ll find a ride home.” Meg laughed, patting him on the arm.

“What?” He turned to her, confused. Thoughts of being the one to peel that dress off Mila currently occupied his mind.

“I. Know. That. Look,” she emphasized, pointing at Mila. “I said that I can find a way home tonight.”

He nodded, trying to catch sight of Mila and her father. Bingo, he thought as he located them speaking with someone.

“Come on,” he said. Grabbing Meg’s hand, he headed in their direction.