FOUR

Elijah

Twelve hours earlier

Las Vegas

I sniffed the air, hissing from the stench of whatever freaking seafood was being fried for the litany of tourists flocking to one of the garish hotels. I loathed the city; the stink and neon lights, the gluttony that occurred every day, and the families crowding the streets. I avoided coming to the city at all costs, but my trip was necessary, a lesson needing to be learned.

Storm Enterprises had flourished over the course of the last twenty years, building a land development empire that included several Vegas hotels and casinos. Our acquisitions had been well planned, buyouts highlighted in Forbes on more than one occasion. The tactics used were brutal but effective. And still, my father continued to push me into developing additional business. He was the one who wanted to be king of the world.

The city of sin had its share of kings and fools, some even working for the Storm organization. As my father liked to say, 'when the cat's away, the mouse will steal everything.' I understood the thought more than most. On this day, one of the casino managers had forgotten about his oath to the family. Greed was the culprit.

As I strolled through the lavishly decorated foyer, my eyes never stopped scanning. I'd brought two of my best men, a security detail who were often more brutal than I was when dealing with scammers and assholes. Markus and Wally had been with me for years, their penchant for violence even more intense than my own. They also knew my methods well, only offering a hand if absolutely necessary.

Or taking a hand or two.

I snickered at the thought.

They remained twenty feet behind, carefully searching for any sign of trouble. My arrival hadn't been announced, the fucker likely to shit when he saw me walking into his office.

I was responsible for the employees, their actions reflecting on my ability to lead. Given the evidence on the traitor, there would be no rehabilitation efforts afforded him. A sentence had already been handed down and I was responsible for levying his punishment. I adjusted my suit jacket and the cuffs of my shirt before raking my hands through my hair.

"Wait here," I told my men. Without hesitation, they moved to the opposite sides of the door and would prevent any unnecessary interruptions.

I hesitated, the sound from inside was disgusting.

"That's it, baby. Suck it. Suck that big, fat cock of mine." Kyle's gravelly voice was easily recognizable.

After rubbing my hand over the barrel of my Glock, I stormed inside.

The gasp was instantaneous, the female inside instantly terrified.

"Elijah. I mean Mr. Storm. I didn't expect you." He shoved the girl away from where she'd been nestled between his legs, struggling to shove his cock back in his expensive trousers. He nearly stumbled as he attempted to stand, brushing both hands through his sweaty hair.

Kyle Santoro was a pompous pig, his philandering ways likely the reason he'd dipped into the well more than once. He enjoyed expensive cars and jewelry, both for himself. His gift of choice for the various women he tasted were the finest chinchilla furs, the acquisitions taken from a hardworking man who owed the casino copious amounts of money. Gambling. Another aspect of life I considered a true weakness.

I snapped my head in the direction of the latest squeeze, barely giving her anything other than a curt nod. She was half naked, the rapid rise and fall of her chest an indication of her fear. Everyone knew my reputation in this town. "Get out." If she disobeyed, she would face the same wrath as the asshole scuttling back from me like a rat.

She wasted no time, whimpering as she jerked her clothes off the floor, racing toward the door.

I moved toward the expansive window overlooking the strip, the view actually quite beautiful. I'd never taken the time to enjoy the bright lights.

"Would... would you like a drink?" Kyle stuttered.

"I'll take a whiskey." What the hell. This was going to be a long night. I could tell his hands were shaking as he poured two drinks, dropping several ice cubes onto the floor in the process.

"Business is up twenty-eight percent this month," he said, the lilt in his voice as fake as the care he pretended to have for the organization.

When he handed me the drink, I merely accepted, my eyes remaining locked on the closest flashing neon light. A damn pink flamingo. Jesus. I took a sip, closing my eyes as I savored the rich flavor. Nothing but the best for the little weasel.

"Would you like a cigar?" he asked tentatively.

"You know how I feel about smoke," I said casually.

"Oh, that's right. You're one of those California boys." His laugh pissed me off more than his words. He was either stupid as a rock or prepared to die.

I slowly turned my head after a full minute, remaining unblinking. I finally looked in his direction, shoving one hand into my pocket. "It's come to my attention that you've been stealing from us, Kyle." I waited to see his reaction, simply sipping on my drink. "This really is an excellent blend. I applaud your tastes."

Kyle took a deep breath, the sound strangled. He adjusted his tie then shook his head. "No way. I would never steal anything from you, Mr. Storm. I'm loyal as they come."

Loyal. I almost laughed at the thought. "So you're not going to tell me about the very expensive poker game you've had going on for six months?"

He said nothing, but I could see the beads of sweat trickling down both sides of his face even from where I stood.

"I have to admit, you were clever in how you managed to pull several people together, playing them just like you played the cards. They had no idea you were cheating them. The idea is brilliant and if you'd come to me with the concept, I'd likely be here today to congratulate you on a job well done." I took a long pull on the liquor, lifting the glass and studying the crystal facets in the dim lighting. "You must have believed that we'd be fools, looking the other way while you... fucked with us." My last three words were riddled with anger.

He moved against his desk, shaking his head several times. "That's not how it is. I swear to God."

"Then why don't you tell me just how it is, Kyle? I'm all ears. I actually came here tonight to see you, only you." While only part of the crap I was spewing was the truth, I needed to make certain no one else was in on the operation with him.

"I just... It was a couple of games. Nothing more." He wiped his brow, his hand shaking.

"And who was helping you with this amazing opportunity?"

"No one! I just... I got in a little over my head. You know, with the alimony and all."

I nodded several times before tipping my drink, smiling after polishing it off. "I really do appreciate a good whiskey. It occurs to me that you actually need a vacation." I kept my grin until one crossed his face.

"Oh, that would be... amazing," he half whispered.

"A good vacation is always refreshing," I said just seconds before I eased the Glock from my pocket, the silencer already in place. A single shot was all that was needed. "Especially if it's permanent."

As I walked out, I nodded to my soldiers. "Take out the trash, boys. I'm going to enjoy a show for a change."