Page 7 of Tangled Vows

My ringing phone yanks me out of my thoughts. I glance down at the screen and shake my head, the caller ID reminding me of the business end of the night. It reads “Dmitri,” the name of a scout.

“Yeah?”

“Captain Kovalev, you wanted me to report anything out of the ordinary near that warehouse, no matter the hour.”

“That’s right. Go ahead.”

“About ten minutes ago, a bunch of Escalades full of Armenian muscle showed,” he claims, keeping his voice down. “I saw Levon Terzian’s bodyguard in one of those Escalades. They pulled up where we found those women. After a quick sweep, they started questioning homeless men who live near the warehouse.”

I purse my lips, my jaw tightening before I reach for the gun on my waist. “Are they still there?”

“Yes. They’re still searching for any information about...”—he pauses—“their missing shipment.”

I give an angry snort. Missing shipment. I’m sure those Armenians used those very words to describe six women who were about to be sold, as if they were fucking livestock. I take a deep breath and swallow my anger. This isn’t the time for me to start cursing, whether they deserve it or not. I hold the phone closer to my ear and address my scout in a steady voice.

“Good job, Dmitri. No need to engage them, but I want eyes on those Armenians round the clock from here on out.”

“Yes, Captain Kovalev. And, sir,” he goes on, some cheer in his tone, “you’ll be pleased to hear this. Rumor has it people on the street liked how we destroyed that human trafficking ring. Looks like we scored some points with the locals, because they hate to hear about forced trafficking.”

The news brings a small smile to my face. We’re not angels—we never said we were, but it helps to have the locals’ approval. It’s not like we need it or anything, but it can come in handy. More than that, our people out there seem to be very good at picking up rumors.

“Thanks for letting me know. Now, find cover and then head to the safe house when you finish your shift. It’s not safe for you out there tonight.”

I hang up and let out a long exhale, a feeling of pride coming over me. I had been suspecting this; now I have confirmation. We screwed up the Armenians’ trafficking scheme. By taking away those women, we put a dent in the whole thing.

I know it’s not going to stop them. It’s not going to put them off, but it’s a good first step. This is a message to the Armenians. Taking it or not is up to them. In any case, Viktor needs to know about this. If we go to war against a rival crew, reasons behind it won’t matter. Putting an end to it won’t be a piece of cake.

I slide my phone into my jacket pocket, lifting my gaze up as I step onto the sidewalk. A familiar glowing sign broadens my smile.

The Blue Dolphin Lounge

This is my favorite place in all of Miami. It’s nice, cozy and hands down our most lucrative asset in the northern part of the city.

The building is awash with blue neon lights. Spotlights and smaller lights on the ceiling bathe customers in brighter and dimmer shades of blue. This fancy façade looks appealing to people passing by. This is just another nightclub with much better lighting than most in the area, right?

Wrong.

A lot of shit goes down in the background. Arms deals, money laundering, payoffs, bribes and even extortion. Everything happens in plain sight, but no one bats an eye. Whether people get paid off on the dance floor or at the bar, doesn’t really matter. No one gives a fuck—they’re just there to dance and drink.

I’d be lying if I said this stuff doesn’t excite me. Hell, I love watching men take bribes or pay top dollar for a gun. I enjoy it over a glass of my favorite vodka and relax after a long week.

Just not tonight.

I’m not in the mood. There’s also the Armenian thing; Viktor will demand my full attention on that. I can’t afford to fuck around. I need to find out who had the nerve to kidnap those women.

I roll up my sleeve and check my watch. It’s almost midnight. By now, the club will be packed with the usual drunks. Right outside, I spot the usual group of hookers. Seven women welcome me with catcalls and whistles, eyeing me from top to bottom. Hats off to those girls. They know how to entice men. Just a sway of their hips is enough to draw male attention. The lust in their eyes may be fake, but their customers are suckers for it. I dismiss them with a nod and a smile, before turning in the direction of the entrance. Artem, the bouncer, steps aside and nods as he unclips the red velvet rope for me.

Flashing strobes fill my gaze, rumbling music reverberating through the atmosphere. Laughter, body heat and cheap perfume come next, my gaze on the dance floor. It’s packed, exclusive balconies on the second floor full of people dancing or just looking down and shaking their hips. I weave through the people on the dance floor, not looking anyone in the eye. I’m not their friend. I’m sure they recognize me, because they all give me some space. Without some intimidation, no one is going to grant me any respect.

I reach the second floor and locate my plush leather seat. It’s well away from the railing; anyone curious enough to look up will not see me. I’d rather keep my rooftop lounge closed for tonight. That one is reserved for more fun nights than this one.

The head of my security turns the corner, light from below washing over his gray suit. Threads of smoke rising behind him, he approaches me at a steady pace.

“Evening, sir,” Malachi says in a rough voice. “What can I do for you?”

The light flashes over the black dragon tattoo along the side of his neck. I reach into my jacket pocket and pull a thick wad of cash out before slamming it into his palm.

“I want your girls to gather information about any new players in the human trafficking business,” I tell him, my tone stiff. “Anyone making big moves, bringing women in from abroad, the works. Are we clear?”

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