I finally had an afternoon free to get on my computer and post an update for you guys! I'm sure I've been receiving lots of hate for how long this post took (FFN emails aren't working again, so I haven't been checking comments, as I don't really want to see any negativity). The good news is we're finally moved into our house! We've still got work to do, but the major projects of the last few weeks are behind us.
Let's jump back in and see what's going on at La Bellissima. I think the situation is about to get dicey!
EPOV
My glare slides between my brother and my advisor as I sink into the chair behind my desk. I tap my fingers along the lacquered top, tired of our lack of progress.
"It's been three weeks since the Twilight incident. How does no one know where Vasili and Vladimir are?" I'm on the verge of livid, disappointed not only with my men but also with our allies here and abroad. How is it possible we've all lost track of the Russians?
Emmett grimaces, and his foot bounces, shaking the frame of his chair. "Ed, they're probably holed up somewhere in Russia."
"It would make sense that they're laying low. I'm sure they've caught word that you're waiting for them," Jasper adds, sitting across from Emmett, rubbing his jaw. "If they appear anywhere in the U.S., you'll get word immediately."
I shake my head. Something's off. "I don't think so. Since when does the Bratva 'lay low?' They're cocky—stupid in their recklessness."
"But not stupid enough to get caught," Emmett points out.
"It's too quiet." I spin, facing my window and peering at the strip below. "They're biding their time, but they won't wait long."
"All we can do right now is plan a defensive for when they strike." With his laptop open on the corner of the desk, Jasper pulls another list of flight logs coming into the city and shakes his head. "Nothing suspicious from last night."
"What are you looking for exactly?" I laugh. "They're not going to travel under their names. Nor are they going to fly here straight from Russia."
Shrugging, he sits back and sighs. "I'm trying, Edward. What else is there to do?"
My head tilts up as I again review our long list of contacts. We've touched base with almost every major city, looking for any hint of the Petrovs' whereabouts. Miami promised they had eyes on Cuba and South America. Out in LA, Cortez is watching Mexico. My recently un-estranged cousin in Chicago, James, is keeping tabs on the Canadian border. I was pleasantly surprised to find the new boss in the windy city has a vision plan that aligns with mine. He's just as eager to see the Petrovs go.
Emmett grunts, a feral sound that has my brows raising as his foot finally settles against the floor. "Maria Sanchez agrees with you," he says, removing his phone from his pocket and opening his text app. "I checked in with her yesterday, and she said her girls are getting nervous. A few of them have heard rumors from their clients about a new service coming to town."
I take the phone from his outstretched hand and scroll through the thread.
A man propositioned one of my escorts, asking for "disturbing things."
"What does this mean?" I ask Emmett, pointing out the text.
He scrolls further to a lengthy response from Maria.
She refused to go into detail, but she was shaken. She's been with me for years, not a girl who easily rattles. According to her, the man threatened we would go out of business if we did not start catering to specific kinks. A new service is advertising men can have access to anything they want.
"Fuck." It's not information we didn't already have, but word is spreading.
"You've got soldiers watching the entire city, Ed," Emmett says. "If the Bratva shows up, we're ready for them."
I nod, the pads of my fingers tracing my lips.
My lack of control disquiets me.
Yet I know the Petrovs will soon come to understand—you don't fuck with Vegas.
oOo
I finger the torn satin from Bella's destroyed corset; my lips quirk at the side with the memory of how her tits sat perfectly held by the deep red fabric. Too bad my impatience had me tearing the garment from her body while I had her on her hands and knees. Seconds later, I was sheathed deep inside her.
"You're going to have to replace that," she teases from the bathroom door. Wrapped in only a plush towel, she pulls her hair to the side and ties it in a long braid.
"That can be arranged." I grin, tossing the corset on top of my discarded suit.
She sighs and disappears into the walk in closet poised across from mine. Hoping to get a glimpse of her naked form as she changes, I slip my boxers up my hips and walk over, perching against the door frame.
But the image that meets me causes an ache in my gut. Bella crouches over the damn duffle bag she's been using to bring clothes back and forth between her apartment and my penthouse. No matter how often I've told her this closet is hers, that she can keep anything she wants here, she won't unpack.
"I've got to go home tomorrow morning," she says, pulling panties and silky sleep shorts from her bag. "I have an early shift at the diner."
"Bella." Groaning, I rake my palm over my face. "We've talked about this."
"I can't quit my jobs, Edward."
"Why?" My question is brash—my frustration showing through.
I can't understand Bella's determination to drive herself into the ground. I've offered her the world. Money for rent, a car—hell, I'm feeding her most of her meals, yet she refuses to accept my generosity. Is my support not good enough for her? Is she waiting for a better man to come and save her from my wretched grasp?
She stands and fidgets, bunching her clothes in her fists. "I just… can't."
Gripping the doorframe hard, I turn my back to her and push away. Rejection courses through my veins as my anger grows. I need to hit something, break a nose, knock out a tooth.
I need to hold her and never let go.
"Edward, please." She's dressed when she appears back in the bedroom, although her sleep set leaves little covered. "I have to stand on my own. I have to know that I can."
Ignoring her, I return to the chaise, lifting and stepping into my slacks. "I have work to do downstairs." My gun waits in my dresser drawer. Bella's eyes divert when I place it in my waistband.
"You're leaving." In my periphery, I see her expression fall. It's not often I leave her to sleep alone, and the decision guts me, but I know I'm too volatile to stay.
"I'll see you tomorrow." Once I button my shirt and slip my jacket over my arms, I lay a short kiss on her temple. Cufflinks in hand, I exit the room without a second glance.
Despite the early hour, I pass by the Keurig in my kitchen. The coffee shop downstairs won't be open for a few hours—I'll be first in line when they do— but I can't fathom staying here for another second. Bella wants space. I'll give it to her.
My series of yawns in the elevator causes me to blink my blurry eyes. Before the door opens, I slap my cheek in an attempt to call myself to attention.
The casino floor is quiet, as I expected. Half the gaming tables are closed for the night. Only our twenty-four-hour pizza cafe remains open for late-night gamblers. A cocktail waitress passes by, holding a rum and coke. She doesn't notice me. The hotel is full of only those with no choice but to take the night shift pay differential, some to feed mouths at home, some to pay off debts from poor decisions. I make a note to raise the Christmas bonuses this year. La Bellissima has the funds to keep employees happy, so why not do so?
My security hallways are empty. The office doors that stay open during the day are closed and securely locked. When I enter my control room, the brows of my men raise, and their shoulders tense. They haven't missed my late night—well, early morning—visits.
"Mr. Cullen," Felix greets me from a spot in the corner. He stands and comes to shake my hand, his concern causing his brow to dip. "Is everything all right, sir?"
"Yes." I clear my throat. "Up early today, just coming in to watch over things."
"Of course." He nods, stepping to the side and letting me pass.
I settle into my usual spot, where I have a clear view of all the monitors in the room and the windows overlooking the floor.
I'm less engrossed in keeping watch than I am lost in thought. As if my men sense my melancholy mood, they keep their distance. It's hours before they address me again, and that's only when the night shift crew begins to pack up to go home and switch with the men who take their places.
"Trouble in paradise?" A large cup of Americano appears on the table before me as my brother sits. "I heard you were in here."
I grunt but don't answer, lifting the cup to my mouth and taking a grateful sip. It's still hot, burning the tip of my tongue.
"Chocolate and flowers always work with Rose," Emmett suggests. I snort—as if Bella were that simple.
As I rub my forehead in frustration, my eyes focus on a monitor showing the breakfast line forming at the buffet. "I gave Bella a car. Did I tell you that?"
Emmett whistles. "Impressive gift."
"It's been sitting in my garage for weeks. She's refusing to give up the piece of crap she drives."
"Hmm." He pauses to lick whipped cream from his lips. "She's not the kind of girl you can buy, Ed."
"Then how do I keep her, Emmett? Money, gifts, that's what I have to offer." I blow on my coffee before I take another sip.
He replaces the lid on his, the cream with caramel drizzle gone. "What makes you think she's going anywhere?"
I scoff and check over my shoulder to ensure the rest of the room isn't listening. "Bella's too smart to stay. Someday, she'll realize who I am. What I am. A woman like Bella deserves a good, decent man, Emmett. I'm not good. I'm not decent."
"No, but you are depressing." He rolls his eyes. "I think you're jumping the gun. Give her time."
I don't reply—my vision locks on the security change near the high roller entrance.
Without warning, Emmett begins to choke. Hacking coughs wrack his body, and I turn in alarm, patting his back. He's shaking his head, trying to talk, but his voice catches in his throat.
"Ed," he finally croaks, "look!"
I follow where his finger points to an overhead monitor. It shows a back alley fenced in with concrete walls and filled with dumpsters.
Standing, I scan the screen, searching for what has caused Emmett's violent reaction.
"There." He joins me, his finger tapping the screen. I squint, focusing on the corner of a large dumpster.
My heart twists and thuds, blood rushing to my head as my pulse pounds in my ears. Sticking out behind the metal bin is a pair of sky-high heels attached to overly thin female legs.
"Fuck!"
Calling orders, I'm out the door and collecting my top men from their offices in the hallway. Stefan is up and out of his seat before I have time to explain. Emmett has Ben by the shoulder, dragging him with us. Two more soldiers trail behind. I have no idea what's waiting for us, and the last thing I want is an ambush.
"How did this happen?" I growl, slamming through double doors before racing past the restaurant kitchens.
Stefan cocks his gun while Ben mutters, "What's going on."
"There's a body," Emmett answers simply.
I can't elaborate. I don't understand. I was in that security room most of the night. No one noticed a thing. We have every inch of the property covered. How could a body wind up in our alley without our knowledge?
We're outside in minutes, the putrid air smelling of hot garbage, forcing us to breathe through our mouths.
"She was over here," Emmett turns right, the rest of us following cautiously, guns drawn.
We take cover behind a tall dumpster, lining up, ready to fight. Emmett goes first, followed by Stefan, then me.
Eyes fixed on the sights of my Smith and Wesson, I sweep my arms across the open space where no enemy waits to attack.
"Oh, shit." It's Ben's curse that has my weapon falling to my side and my focus turning to the frail body stretched across the filthy floor.
She's far too young for the tight dress and glitter-covered heels she wears. Thick makeup cakes her bruised face. It doesn't hide the dark patch of pooled blood under the skin of her jaw or the split above her eyebrow that drips crimson onto the concrete.
"Her arm's broken," Stefan says, crouched over her form.
Never has violence made me sick, but this child, beaten and abused, has my stomach rolling. "Is she dead?" I replace my gun and hover over the body.
"Her pulse is weak, but she's alive," Emmett says, holding her uninjured arm and pressing two fingers against her wrist.
My jaw ticks, and my fury grows before I bark orders. "Get her upstairs into a suite, now. Block the hallways and use the staff elevators. No one can see her."
Carefully, Emmett and Stefan lift the girl until Emmett cradles her against his chest. "Hold on, sweetheart," he says. "We're gonna get you fixed up."
I instruct Ben to contact Jasper and get our on-call physician to the hotel immediately. In moments, his cell phone is to his ear while my other associates enter the building, ready to clear away nosy employees.
We rush through the hallways, Stefan ordering the tech guys upstairs to scrub any video of our trek from the security cameras. Jasper texts to say he's already reviewing last night's footage to figure out what the hell happened.
We enter the first suite on the twenty-fourth floor. Bypassing the living room, Emmett deposits the girl on the plush bed, careful not to jostle her injuries. In better lighting, I notice finger marks on her biceps and rope burns around her ankles.
"What the actual fuck!" Emmett spits, dragging a hand over his cropped hair.
"Boss," Stefan says from the foot of the bed. "Should I get her cleaned up?"
I inventory her injuries and the alley dirt that covers her dress. "Take her shoes off and wipe away the blood caked on her forehead. Otherwise, let's wait for the physician."
He and Ben get to work as I stalk to the window, surveying the city view as if somewhere in the streets of Vegas, I will find an answer to this fucked up situation.
"What are you thinking, Ed?" Emmett joins me, leaning a shoulder against the wall.
I release a breath. "That we've got a fucking Bratva problem."
My phone rings, and I pull it from my pocket. My father.
"Edward?" He asks as soon as I have the receiver to my ear.
"Have you talked to Jasper?" I'm sure my father is already well-versed about the shit show that is my morning.
He laughs, but it's cold and sinister. "Yeah. Have you?"
"What?" As he says this, my call waiting goes off. Jasper. "He's calling now. Let me loop him in." I join the two calls, my senses tingling with trepidation.
"Edward," Jasper starts. "The Petrovs are back in town."
"No shit." I snap as my father begins talking over us.
"Edward, we found a girl at Isle Esme." My father's South American jungle-themed hotel has previously been out of bounds for the Petrovs. "She's awake and talking."
"Shit. What happened?" I sink into the upholstered chair in the corner, my elbow resting on my knee as I drop my head into my hand.
He takes a deep breath as I hear Jasper mutter a curse on his side of the line. "Housekeeping went into a room about thirty minutes ago. They found a sobbing teenage girl in the bathroom with blood running down her legs. She had been brutally raped. All we've gotten from her so far is a first name and a country of origin."
"Which is?" I ask impatiently.
"Take a guess," Jasper says.
"Fuck me," I curse before answering his rhetorical question. "Russia."
My father continues—his words clipped, laced with fury. "She said the Bratva took her. She had no idea the date; she thought she'd been gone for years, but apparently, it's been six months."
"Where were they keeping her?" I pinch the bridge of my nose, disgusted with the image my father paints.
"We haven't gotten that far. I've got guys talking to her, but she's shying away. She's terrified of my men."
My eyes slide across the room to where Ben is gently wiping blood from the temple of our unconscious girl. "I've got a guy I'm going to send to you. He's good with women. He might be able to get through to her."
My father lets out a noncommittal grunt as Jasper tells us to hold on a second. He's got a call coming in.
"Ben," I drop the phone from my ear momentarily to address the young security associate.
He stands to attention, eyes wide with surprise. "I have a job for you. There's another girl at my father's hotel. But she's awake, and we need information. I want you to go talk to her."
Ben's vision flicks quickly to Emmett, who nods his head in encouragement. "Absolutely. Yes sir. I'll go now. Should I just…" He holds up the washcloth stained with blood. Stefan pats his shoulder and takes the cloth, replacing Ben at our unconscious girl's side.
Lifting my phone, I watch Ben hurry from the room, a new sense of purpose behind his urgent steps. "Dad, Ben's on his way."
"Carlisle, Edward," Jasper comes back on the line. "Garrett's been hit, too."
"Shit," my father curses, while I let out an exasperated, "How?"
"They must have hacked our security footage," Jasper says. "It's the only option that makes sense. How else would all three casinos be unaware of the events taking place."
"Is Garrett's girl okay?" I ask through gritted teeth.
Jasper grunts, "She's better than your girl, worse than Carlisles. She's awake, but they think she was drugged. Her nose is broken, and they found her with her hands bound in leather straps. She was left in a stolen car in the valet lot."
"They're sending us a message," my father spits out.
"We need to find these fuckers. Now." My blood boils with the want to maim the men responsible in the same way they maimed their victims.
"Mr. Cullen," one of my associates calls from the living room. "The physician is here."
I cut my call short, promising my father and Japer they would hear from me shortly and welcome the portly Italian man into the suite. He swallows hard when he sees the battered girl.
Despite God's lack of influence in my usual decisions, I pray for her salvation.
I'm willing to get help anywhere I can.
A/N: It's time to take the Bratva down. But they're not going to make it easy...
Until next time!