Page 504 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

I let out a deep sigh and pull out a Glock 19 from the waistband of my pants. Prop number one. I hold it up in front of his panicked face and his eyes almost pop out of his skull. Then I put it on the ledge behind him.

“Are you gonna kill me?” he whimpers, shifting in the metal chair. A zip tie holds his hands together behind him. It’s not tight enough to cut off his circulation, but it’s enough to make it very uncomfortable for him.

I narrow my eyes at the guy. Judging from the looks of his nerdy getup, I’ll bet he’s some mathematical brainiac from Harvard or MIT or Stanford.

Bet.

Ha!

Pun intended.

“Maybe,” I grunt. “It’s not gonna be great if it leaks that some punk-ass kid took us for a boatload of cash opening week. Consider me the Excelsior’s publicist. I have to crush the story before it gets out.” I lean forward, hissing against his ear in the most menacing tone possible when I ask, “How else can I guarantee that the threat’s been eliminated?”

“You could beat me up,” he says, his voice quivering. “But, you know, only the body. Not my head. I need my head,” he whispers, his eyes darting to my two beefy fists, which are currently balled at my sides.

“You need your head?” I repeat. “So you can fuck over some other casino with your big-ass brain?” I snicker, realizing what I just said. “That’s funny ’cause it’s kind of why you’re here right now. You used your ass as a hat when you decided to hit this place, thinking you could outsmart us. Now tell me who the fuck is backing you!”

His teeth chatter and his face…Jesus, if it wasn’t pale before, now it’s Casper-white. “I d-don’t have a backer. I did this myself.”

“Is that what your head is telling you right now? To lie to the guy who’s threatening your life?” I throw my head back and chuckle loudly, then stop suddenly, my mouth twisting into a grimace. “Maybe that’s the punishment, then. Cut off your head so you can’t use that big, beautiful brain anymore. What do you think about that? I could jar it up and keep it as a trophy, you know?” I walk around the back of his chair and palm his head. “It’s nice to be able to think, yeah? I’d hate to take that away.” I pull back and give him a critical look. “Since it seems to be all you have going for you right now. Lemme guess. The ladies aren’t exactly busting down your dorm-room door, are they? Maybe this was a way to get them to pay attention?”

I’m trying everything I can think of right now to shake him up, but this idiot won’t crack.

I really don’t want to kill him. Hell, I don’t even want to mangle him.

I just want to get out of this goddamn suit and kick back up in my plush apartment with a beer because I’ve got nothing better to do with my time off.

Since that first night here in Vegas, Sergio has been all over my ass, making sure I’m laying low and not causing big-time trouble. Anything to keep the Severinovs happy, since he’s dying for their respect.

I lean against the cinderblock wall. I’m gonna have to do my thing if this guy doesn’t cooperate soon. I moved my security operation up here to the parking deck because there are no cameras. I made the stupid mistake of taking a few unruly drunks down to the basement recently because they didn’t understand the meaning of respect for authority figures.

Namely, me.

I guess I had some anger issues to work out.

Pounding the faces of those dumbasses helped.

A little bit.

Of course, when Serge found the footage of me pummeling their asses, he nearly tore mine apart.

“You can’t have this kind of heat on you! Remember why you’re here! You’re supposed to be in hiding, for fuck’s sake!”

I remember when Serge pulled me into his office after the bloodied and beaten guys were tossed out of here that night. Nobody else questioned me. And they deserved it for the scene they caused on the casino floor and in the nightclub. But my cousin nearly had a stroke on the spot when he saw them piled up by the service entrance in the back of the hotel. His eyes were bugged out, his face bright red, his hands balled into tight fists.

He wanted to pound the shit outta me, just like I’d done to those guys. He didn’t care why I did it, he just caredthatI did it.

“I don’t give a shit what they did. If people get out of control, you throw them out. You don’t beat them within an inch of their lives, Zeno!”

I let out a frustrated sigh. Doesn’t he get it? That’s all I know. I wasn’t groomed in the art of negotiation. I was trained to be a killer and to protect what belongs to the family.

I was never gonna have the desk job. All of us have specific skills that we use to keep us sharp and strong. Mine are my fists.

But up here, I have free reign. If I drop him to his death?—

No! If I dump him over the side, we can’t find the backer.

Dammit.

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