There was something about Piper that was refreshing. She seemed so unassuming. Nothing like the clawing socialites he normally dated. Maybe Liam was on to something when he came to lend his talents here.
Sadly, any thoughts of an interlude with Piper would have to wait. He had his trust fund to think about. If he wanted it released in full, he’d have to find Reed. So far, all of Reed’s old childhood haunts led to dead-ends. After college, he disappeared from the upper crust. His mother wouldn’t even speak about him other than to say he was a grand disappointment. She had no idea of his whereabouts.
“Well, I guess I’m off to Vegas,” Trace said.
“Why Vegas? Is Reed there?” Piper asked.
“I have my suspicions. It seems there’s a party going on, and I haven’t been invited.” Trace was about to leave when he realized he was still holding Piper’s hand. He smiled slightly, wondering if he could make her giggle one more time. He watched her as he brought her hand to his lips. When he kissed her soft skin, it produced the desired effect. She giggled, then snatched her hand away when she noticed a ponytailed man had walked into the room.
“Oh, Van, Grandpa has the sketch in his office.” Piper blushed and stepped away from Trace. “He said you could work on it whenever you have time, but don’t rush.”
Van’s eyes were trained on Trace. He finally ripped them away to look at Piper. “When will he be back?”
“In an hour or two.”
“I’ll take the sketch now. Thanks, baby girl.” Van stood for a moment as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave quite yet.
Interesting.
Trace smiled at Piper. “Well, I guess I’m off to catch a plane. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Before he could take more than two steps, Piper grabbed his arm.
“Wait. I’m coming with you.”
“What?” Both Trace and Van asked at the same time.
“I’ve had a bad feeling ever since Morgan left,” she said. “And now you’re here asking questions. I want to come, too.”
“No,” Both Trace and Van said at the same time, then glared at each other.
“Charlene, book me on the next flight to Vegas,” Piper said, and then she turned to Trace. “Morgan has been keeping a secret for way too long, and I think it’s finally caught up to her. We can go together, or I’ll go alone.”
“Baby girl,” Van started, only to be silenced by Piper.
“Stop calling me that. I’m not twelve anymore.” Piper opened the door, calling back to Charlene. “Forward me the ticket information when you get it. I’m going home to pack.”
“Charlene, don’t,” Van snapped.
Piper rounded on him, fire in her denim eyes.
“Piper, I think Papa Bear might know what’s going on. Let’s talk to him before you storm over to Vegas.”
Papa Bear? Trace glanced at Piper for confirmation he wasn’t hearing things wrong. When she hesitantly nodded to Van, he assumed he must have heard correctly.
Van turned to Trace. “You can go.”
“I’m here on Liam’s request.”
Van was about to argue but stopped when Piper flung open the shop door, calling for Papa Bear. A few moments later, a large lumbering man ducked through the door. Now, the name made sense.
“Can we talk privately for a moment?” Van asked Papa Bear, nodding toward an office a few yards away.
Piper stepped in between the men. “We can all talk here.”
Trace watched as Papa Bear looked over Piper’s head to silently question Van. Trace almost felt sorry for Van. He actually looked startled that Piper was calling the shots. From the few minutes Trace had known Piper, he thought her more docile and pliable than what she currently was with her hands on her hips, eyeing the two men as if she was going to sink her teeth in.
“I think Morgan is in trouble, and I’m going to Vegas to find her.” She scowled at the men. “If either of you two has something of value to say, please say it now; otherwise, I’m leaving.”
“I can’t say. I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” Papa Bear muttered, then he glared at Van.
Trace was sure they were having a silent conversation.
“If you don’t say, then I’m going to Vegas,” Piper stated. “And what do you think I’ll find when I get there?”
“A bunch of slot machines. Alcohol, if I’m lucky,” Trace murmured to himself.
Piper heard him and crossed her arms.
“Just tell her,” Van said to Papa Bear. “If Liam followed Morgan to Vegas, he knows what’s going on. You wouldn’t want Piper getting mixed up in that.”
“But I don’t know everything,” Papa Bear stated. “Most of it I pieced together. Morgan never acknowledged if I was right, just swore me to keep silent.”
“She would’ve denied it if it was wrong,” Piper said.
“All I have is a name,” Papa Bear said. “I overheard her talking a couple of years ago. But if the name is correct, it’s not a family you want to mess with.”
“Who?”
Papa Bear sighed. “If I tell you, you have to promise to stay here. Let Liam and Morgan work alone.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Then you’re safer going and not finding her.”
Piper scowled. “I’m getting Greer involved.”
Trace thought that if Piper would shed a few tears she’d be much more effective, but whoever Greer was, just her name seemed to strike fear into both men.
He eyed the door, wondering if they’d notice if he slipped out. He didn’t think Van or Papa Bear would care, but he didn’t want Piper trailing after him. She was cute, and he was definitely going to see if he could make some headway on that score, but she’d only slow him down if she came with him.
“No, don’t,” Papa Bear sighed. “Listen, as far as I know, Morgan goes to Vegas to work for the Ivankovs. Like I said, they aren’t people you want to mess with. If you go skipping off to Vegas, you’ll put Morgan at risk. No one can know.” Papa Bear eyed Trace. “No one.”
“Who are they?” Piper asked. “And why would she work for them if they’re so dangerous?”
Van’s brow creased. “It started a long time ago with your dad. Morgan had no choice but to continue.”
“Why didn’t I know this?” she demanded.
“You were just a young girl,” Van said.
“And we don’t know the whole story,” Papa Bear inserted. “Your dad and Morgan have been very secretive. What we know, we’ve pieced together.”
Trace didn’t need to hear anymore. Thanks to Papa Bear and Van reasoning with Piper, he now had a lead. This wouldn’t be bad at all. Now, he just had to visit his old chum Edik. If there was one thing Edik excelled at, it was knowing who’s who in all the hot spots. He might even know an Ivankov.
He’d have Reed wrapped up in a bow for Liam within twenty-four hours, with plenty of time for dice, cocktails, and a bit of sport; the female variety, of course.
Now, he just had to score a last-minute ticket to Vegas. Easily done when a pretty little flight attendant keeps a jump seat warm for him. He always made sure to thank her properly.
* * *
Liam didn’t notice them at first, the tattoos. It wasn’t until Dmitri helped lift the tank onto the truck that Liam became aware. They were faded, but the message was clear. Dmitri was from the zone.
Did Morgan even realize how far in she was? Dmitri wouldn’t allow them to live, even after helping his brother.
The cathedral tattoo had four domes. Four domes, four prison sentences. Liam warily studied Dmitri. “Vory v zakone?”
Dmitri looked hard at Liam. “Da.”
That simple word of acknowledgement sealed their fate.
“Why did you say that?” Morgan quietly asked Liam when Dmitri moved away. “Dmitri had said it before, but you couldn’t have possibly known. What does it mean?”
“Nothing.” Liam walked over to the driver’s side door. He didn’t want to worry Morgan. “We have everything lo
aded. Should we go?”
Dmitri took the keys out of Liam’s hand and pushed him out of the way. “Get in.”
“But your car —” Morgan started.
Dmitri drew his gun. “Get in.”
As all three crammed into the front bench seat together, Liam wondered if Dmitri knew he could be overpowered in these tight conditions. Most likely he did. But even if they did overpower him, it’d only temporarily solve their problem. The bratva knew where to find Morgan, and they’d come to settle the score.
So, feeling completely useless and powerless, Liam sat still. Well, maybe not completely useless. He knew something about the vory v zakone. Tattoos, especially those given in Russian prisons, meant something. They were not decorations. Status symbols, murders, theft, extortion, prison sentences. It was all there. Every mark on Dmitri’s body served as a warning.
Dmitri was no ordinary thug. Being a vory v zakone meant he had to follow an extensive list of codes. The most major was shunning all authority. Killing police, businessmen, or politicians; he wouldn’t think twice. And, he had to reject all family.
So, what of his brother Marik? If Dmitri was following the code to the letter, he wouldn’t aid Marik. Unless Marik was vory v zakone as well.
Morgan scooted closer to Liam, allowing her extra space between Dmitri. Her legs pressed against his, her shoulder rested against his. His response was automatic. He didn’t even have time to think better of it when his arm circled around her shoulders, hugging her to him. She pulled away slightly, turning her head to silently question him.
“Relax,” Liam whispered.
She was hesitant at first, but finally she eased back and was soft against him, even allowing her head to rest against his shoulder. The Morgan he had met a couple of days ago would have filled his ears with protests. He might still hear them later. This Morgan was too stressed and worried to fight. He could say the same thing about himself. Not even Trace could provoke him right now.
Chapter 13
Morgan helped carry the equipment into the shed and began setting it up. It gave her mind something else to think about besides . . . well, besides everything. She didn’t know what vory v zakone meant, but Dmitri was not happy when Liam had said it. She’d have to ask Liam about it again. But not now. Dmitri was watching her closely.
“Show me,” Dmitri said.
“Grab the spool of wire,” Morgan said. “You’ll place it here.” She pointed to the welder.
Dmitri lifted the heavy coil with ease and placed it onto the welder. Morgan looked up to study the ceiling and walls.
“You don’t have ventilation in here,” she said. “You’ll need to keep the doors open while you work. The fumes are toxic.”
Dmitri glanced at the shed doors and then at Liam. Pulling a length of rope from a hook, he stepped toward Liam.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Liam said, retreating from Dmitri.
Dmitri didn’t bother responding. Liam was backed into a corner within a few steps. Morgan didn’t interfere. Being tied up was a lot better than being dead. As long as her hands were free, she could aid Liam later. Liam must have had the same thought because he held his arms forward, a curse escaping his lips when Dmitri secured the rope.
When Liam had put his arm around her in the truck, her initial reaction was to move away. But that would have set her closer to Dmitri. When Liam then whispered “relax.” she suddenly gave up her fight against him. He was not the bad guy. He was actually very nice. Thoughtful. Protective. Smart. Handsome. He was all those things and more. Had they met under different circumstances she might have formed a different first impression. Now, as she spent more time with him, her impression kept shifting. It was uncomfortable knowing she’d judged him too soon and too harshly. She wouldn’t blame herself too much. He did provoke her at that first introduction.
Liam now sat on a stool in the corner, his hands tied but not his feet. He could still run, if needed.
Morgan tossed a face shield to Dmitri. “Put it on. We’ll practice.” She snuck one last peek at Liam before she slid her own shield on, keeping it propped up so she could speak to Dmitri. “These are auto adjusting. They will darken as soon as the first spark is detected. It takes a little bit of time to adjust to it.”
Morgan held the welding gun to show Dmitri. “When you press the trigger, the wire will come out. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up with a pile of wire on the bench or floor.”
She set two scrap metal pieces together, slipped on work gloves, and flipped the shield in place. “Liam, close your eyes.” With a press of the trigger, she welded the pieces together, sparks spitting fire onto the workbench, her hands, and arms. She could feel the snapping heat through her clothing. After welding for so many years, the sensation was like a phantom. She knew it was there, but it was never quite present either.
She was about to hand the welder over to Dmitri to practice, but then noticed he was wearing a T-shirt. “You’ll need to wear long sleeves.”
Dmitri didn’t acknowledge her words, but took the gun instead. He put the nose to the scrap metal and pressed the trigger. He wasn’t fazed at all. The crackling sparks rained down on his tattooed arms and he didn’t pull back or stop. It wasn’t a safe thing to do. Welding was like playing with the sun. Without proper safety precautions it could ruin eyes and skin.
Dmitri said something in Russian and tossed down the gun. She was pretty sure it was a curse. He tended to use that word a lot when she was around.
Morgan glanced at his work. “You used too much wire.” She could sense his glare from behind the shield. “You just need practice,” she said. “Keep making lines. Take it slow and steady.”
He tried again, this time welding too slowly and burning through the metal. “You said slow,” he barked. “Now there’s hole.”
“Weld somewhere in between,” she said.
He cursed again, but then touched the wire to the metal and produced a decent line.
“Not bad,” she said.
Dmitri pulled off the shield to get a better look. He seemed pleased with himself, even smiling.
When his phone rang, he set down the gun to answer it. He spoke in Russian, flicking his gaze to Morgan every once in a while. Suspecting he was talking about her, she glanced at Liam to see if he understood. He seemed to know a little Russian and knew Dmitri was a vory v something or other, which made her wonder how he knew. Did he take a class in Russian? Maybe in his other line of work he had to know such information.
She wished she would have asked him what he did for a living instead of shutting down the conversation. At least she might have insight into what he would know.
Liam was listening intently, a puzzled expression on his face. Whether or not he understood Russian, he must have at least comprehended a word or two. Sensing that Morgan was watching him, he looked at her and mouthed the words, “Don’t worry.”
If only she could have believed those words.
* * *
Trace felt like he had come home. The dimmed lights, the flowing drinks, the sensually dressed women, and the high-stakes cards all called to him. He hadn’t been in Vegas for at least a year, if not longer. Not since Liam took over his funds and put a stop to his spending. Now, he was lucky if he could afford clothing.
Trace adjusted the sleeves on his newly acquired tuxedo and looked around the swanky high-stakes room. Luckily, Liam’s clothes fit him perfectly. And, no matter how frugal Liam could be, he always had nice clothes. It was the only thing they agreed on.
Trace noticed his current threads were already making an impression. He spotted a woman about ten years his senior eyeing him from across the room. She was sitting in a cluster of chairs, filled with elegantly dressed patrons. She obviously had some money, or knew someone who did. His thoughts were confirmed when a man in his fifties took her hand to kiss it.
Trace winked at the woman, who was still looking at him, ignoring her benefactor. He then flagged down a cocktail server
. The drinks in here were free, thank God. Normally a person would have to put down serious blunt to enter this part of the casino, but thankfully, his name got him in. And this was where he hoped to find Edik. If Edik was anything, he was predictable.
Once Trace placed his drink order, he walked among the few tables, glancing at the stacks of chips piled in front of players. They each had twenty times the amount Liam grudgingly forked over to Trace for his monthly “allowance.”
“You are looking for someone,” a woman’s voice floated over him. Clearly a Russian accent, though light and soft, smoothing the normally butchered letters back into their American sound.
He glanced over his shoulder, pleasantly surprised to find the woman he had been eyeing before. She had shaken off the man who lined her pockets, or currently, her red silk dress that clung nicely along her curves.
She was pretty with dark hair and eyes. She had all of the bountiful attributes he normally sought out in a woman, plus she was older. A bonus for him, who enjoyed a more-experienced woman. Her hand gently touched his upper arm, stroking it slowly, softly.
If she was Russian, then he was definitely in the right casino. While Edik was American born and raised, he was tight within the Russian community. So tight, he’d moved here permanently. That’s when Trace lost track of him.
“Will you not answer?” she asked.
He smiled, remembering her previous question. He clasped his hand over hers. “What if I’m looking for you?”
She returned the smile. “Then I should be flattered, but I think you are looking for someone else.”
He was tempted to flirt with her, see how far she was willing to go while her bank account was still in the room, casually speaking with acquaintances and glancing at them every so often. But, he was afraid any more smiles or touches and the man would interfere and Trace’s access to the beauty would be cut short.
“Would you happen to know Reed Taylor?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, is he supposed to be here? I don’t see anyone except the regulars. And you.” A practiced sultry smile slipped easily onto her lips.
Melting Point Page 10
