CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Normally, he liked to delegate—have his men handle petty tasks like shaking people down. But sometimes you had to clean up your own mess. Like Michael Sloan. He was a tough one. He was too close, he knew too much, and he had figured out more than he should.

He’d connected the dots, according to what his man eavesdropping at the diner this morning had told him. That was something no one else had ever done. Not since years ago, when Michael’s father had veered way too close for comfort.

Since then he’d operated cleaner. Neater, under the radar. But with the case blasted open, he’d had to dart and dodge.

Now it was time to do his own dirty work. And Charlie Stravinsky hated doing his own dirty work.

“Your mother was easy to manipulate into doing what I needed her to do. I fear you might not be so pliable,” he said, stepping away from the wall of the parking garage and walking closer to the blue-eyed son of the man he’d convinced Dora Prince to have killed nearly two decades ago.

“You’re right on that count,” Michael said crisply. “This won’t be easy. There are people who know you’re involved.”

Charlie waved that concern away, stopping at a green Lexus as Sloan grabbed the auburn-haired beauty with him and pushed her behind him. Fucking redheads. They were nothing but trouble.

Charlie nodded and clucked his tongue. “You’re right. There are people who know enough to be dangerous, like you and like her. But that’s going to end soon, isn’t it? Unless you want to come work for me? Your mother did, for all intents and purposes.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed, burning at him, his jaw set hard. He was like a fuse waiting to blow, and Charlie was going to enjoy every second of setting him off. The man was too good, too pure. Watching men like him shatter into animals was such a high.

“This isn’t about her. This is about my father,” he spat out, seething.

But Charlie wasn’t scared of Michael. He wasn’t scared of a thing. He’d let go of fear many years ago. After his brother was killed at age nine in a robbery back in his home country, he’d vowed to never let anyone fuck with his family again. He’d done a fine job providing for all his brothers and sisters. His businesses made money that had put them through school. Years ago he’d moved them to America to keep them safe, along with his mother and father, too. His parents had since passed on, but he still took care of all his siblings, thanks to his businesses and the way they turned money into more money.

So when someone tried to mess with his business, they might as well be screwing with his family.

And no one went after Charlie’s family and got away with it.

Thomas Paige had tried to, sniffing around in his limo company, asking far too many questions. Curtis Paul Wollinsky, his best friend, his comrade in arms, and the manager of West Limos years ago, had alerted him to Paige’s queries. They’d tried to shut him up through T.J., their chief intimidator with the Royal Sinners, but that hadn’t worked.

Then opportunity had presented itself. Once Charlie had learned that Dora Prince was already making moves on her own to order a hit for money, Charlie had his ironclad solution—provide the means for Dora to go through with it. That way she couldn't stop it even if she tried. Damn shame she went to prison. She would have made an excellent lieutenant in his operations. She was loyal to the core, cold-blooded, and willing to act, especially when he’d threatened her children that one time she tried to back out.

Oh, that woman was willing to protect them. He really should visit her one day and thank her. But he’d deal with that another time.

Right now he had her pesky oldest son to shut up.

He extended a hand in Michael’s direction, even though he was twenty feet away. The nerve of him saying it was about his father; the boy didn’t realize he still had so much left to lose. “Or perhaps it’s about you, and the only chance you have before you,” he said, scratching his chin. “As I see it, your only way out is to come work with me.”

Michael shook his head.

“You can do it. Everyone is corruptible if you threaten their family. It worked for your mother,” Charlie said, as Michael shifted his eyes to the woman behind him.

“I’m not working for you, Charlie,” he bit out as the redhead cowered. She was tall, though, and Michael couldn’t quite shield her completely.

“But you do work for me. I hired you. I knew who you were, and look what happened.” Charlie flashed his winning smile. His plan had worked like a charm—ingratiating himself with the security brothers, making them think he cared deeply about doing the right thing. Donating to the community center. Playing the concerned citizen. “You wound up liking me. We got along so well, Michael. Cleaning up the city together. Ridding Vegas of those nasty Royal Sinners I wanted to eradicate. You helped me get rid of the bad apples from my street crew—like T.J. He was a good one, but he was giving me a bellyache by the end, so turning him in was a joy, and you made it so easy for me to be helpful.”

Michael clenched his fists, holding in all his rage. Ah, what an absolute delight to watch the carefully controlled Michael start to boil over. “What do you want?”

Charlie stared at him like he was insane. “What do I want?” he repeated. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Charlie took a step closer. Michael moved back, the woman now sandwiched between him and the back of his car. “Use your brain, Sloan. I want you to stop asking questions. If you can’t do that, you can go ahead and join your father.” He reached behind his jacket and took his gun from his holster, his eyes on Sloan.

Who moved like a goddamn cheetah. Before Charlie even raised his weapon, Michael’s gun was pointing at his face.

Charlie didn’t flinch. He’d stared down more frightening men. He’d stared down death. Besides, Michael wasn’t tough enough. “You’re not your mother’s son,” he hissed. “You’re your father’s son. You don’t have it in you to fire that thing. You’re too good, like he was. So we have two options. You either work for me, or we say good-bye.”

“I’ll take option three,” Michael said, his finger nearing the trigger.