Page 103 of Precious Hazard

“This was nothing but a prelude to the main act. Katrakis holds another party responsible for their loss and our gain,apparently,” Nino says in a grim tone. “They are going after Drago.”

“What?”

“Our guy overheard those fuckers flapping their gums while they were smashing up the office. They didn’t know he was there at first cause he was in the john taking a piss prior to the attack. Seems that Katrakis believes Drago betrayed their trust by offloading the property deed to us before they got a chance to repay him.”

That sneaky bastard. I should have guessed he was behind the offshore company that sold us the land. If my sister wasn’t married to that dick, I’d enjoy letting Katrakis fuck him over real good.

“Have you let Drago know?” I ask.

“Just before I called you.”

My phone beeps with another incoming call, and I glance at the screen to see that Sienna is trying to reach me. Quickly disconnecting with Nino, I switch lines.

“Sienna! Are you alright?”

“We’re fine.” Her slightly hysterical voice is nearly drowned out by the plethora of background noise. “Drago just put the house on lockdown in case of an attack here. But you need to get to Naos!”

“I have more important things to deal with right now than checking up on your husband’s joint. And I’m sure his people are more than capable—”

“Tara is there, you idiot!” she shouts.

My heart stops beating. “What?”

“She just texted me a few minutes ago. I tried calling the club, but couldn’t get ahold of anyone. No one is answering their phone!”

The tires screech as I do a one-eighty, hitting the gas and flying down the road like a bat out of hell.

Chapter 22

In normal places like bars and restaurants, when thugs barge in with guns blazing, hysterical screams usually follow. Not at Naos, though. Other than pained gasps and quiet curses when someone gets hit, the rapidrat-a-tatandbang bangof gunfire are the only sounds.

“When are they going to turn the damn power back on?” Jelena grumbles beside me as she opens the hidden trapdoor in the floorboards. “What if we hit one of ours by mistake? Sig or Beretta?”

“Beretta, please. It’ll take a few minutes to get the generator up and running.” I grip the gun she holds out for me, then toss the other to Iliya, who’s crouching a few feet to my left.

“You two don’t move from here until this is over,” Iliya barks as he catches the Sig. “Drago will have my hide if something happens to you. You hear me, Tara?”

“Got it,” I lie.

There are only two emergency pod lights behind the bar, built in so close to the floor that I need to lean way down to be able to check the magazine. It’s hard to know how many attackers there are because the raging firefight is all around us. It’s like everyone present is shooting at the same time. If this were later at night, all firearms would have been securely stowed away upon entry into the club, but rules allow Naos patrons tokeep their guns on them between opening hours and around nine at night.

“Is there a point to all this shooting when no one can see shit?” A few more bottles explode above me; glass and liquor rain down on my head. The stench of multiple spirits is more than pungent, irritating my eyes and nose. I press myself flatter to the back bar counter and cock my gun while my thigh muscles scream in protest. Crouching in heels is a real bitch, especially while trying not to slip in the puddle of spilled alcohol.

The overhead lights flicker to life just as a man armed with an Uzi leans over the bar counter right above Jelena. I react without a second thought, snapping my arm upward and shooting him in the head.

Jelena raises her shapely eyebrow. “That was fast. Are you sure he wasn’t one of ours?”

“He’s wearing a brown bandanna around his forehead.”

My brother insists on a very strict dress code at Naos. No way anyone wearing a casual outfit, even as gang colors, would have been let inside.

Avoiding shattered bottles and shards of glass, I duckwalk to the edge of the bar and peek out into the main space. The booth dividers, which provide privacy but are actually bulletproof frosted glass obstacles that were installed specifically in case something like this happens, are still intact. Drago is adamant about having armored furniture around. Most of the guests and club staff have taken cover behind these barriers and are shooting in the direction of the main entrance.

One of the overhead speakers has crashed to the floor, breaking the stone tiles into a billion little pieces. Fuck, my brother issoooogoing to lose his shit over that. He imported those tiles from Spain.

As far as I can see, there’s only one casualty fromourside. The body of the guy I suspect was a hitman is sprawled near the booth where he was seated. Adriano Ruffo is down on one knee next to him, firing at the attackers from a big-ass gun in a disturbingly casual manner.

The gang members, though, haven’t fared as well. Three dead next to the entrance and another a little further inside, close to the edge of the dance floor. Only one appears to still be alive, hidden by a stone pillar a few feet away from the main doors. He’s shooting randomly into the interior, trying to hit anyone in his sights. That means there are six assailants, including the man I offed just now. A rather small force for a raid of this kind. Perhaps they didn’t expect much resistance?

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