Page 26 of The Games of Madmen

“Exactly. Remind me why we’re here again…”

Dumdumdumdumdum.

Turning my head, I look at my pouting brother. I can still smell the vodka on his breath from the plane. Makes me thirsty. Licking my lips, I lean forward to reach his ear. “I’ll entertain you later.”

Thoughts of later have my heartbeat slowing to a more familiar rhythm. One I’m comfortable with. It distracts me to the point I don’t feel like my chest is going to explode.

He chuckles and pats my thigh, leaving his palm there. His touch always calms me. “So help me if we get there and you try to drag my ass to a honky tonk bar, Iwillkill you. Don’t test me, brother.”

An image of sleek, filthy, wicked Rodion in a pair of tight jeans and shit kickers is almost too much. Add in a cowboy hat, and I’m biting back a grin. Perhaps we should find one of these country bars and look the part.

“Me?” I ask in faux annoyance. “You’re the one trying to buy up every shithole in every damn country.”

“I like money,” he offers with a shrug.

And money, we have plenty of it.

We don’t need it, though.

It’s the power and the influence we love. Having our fingers dipping in pots all over the globe delights us both to no end. So many nights, we lie in bed—long after our newest conquest between us has fallen asleep—tangled in our sheets with sweat still slick on our skin and plot.

We’ve been plotting since we were ten years old.

“You are right, the numbers don’t lie,” I tell him, nudging him with my shoulder. “Their website is pretty badass too. We may be in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, but it’s a cash cow. You just have to be a good little cowboy and milk it.”

His green eyes narrow as he inspects me, his lips quirked on one side in amusement. “You want me to milk what now?”

My brow lifts and I nod at my dick that’s now stiff in my slacks. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

He lets out a chuckle, slapping my thigh, but refuses to give in. “Should we hit some bars or clubs tonight?”

“I’m not feeling it. I’m jet lagged.”

Dumdumdumdumdum.

And something else.

“You don’t look so hot,” he says, his brows furrowing in concern.

I shrug and turn my attention to the window. We pass by several hotels before arriving at the nicest one in this town. It’s a stately and historic hotel situated in the middle of the state’s biggest city.

We don’t plan on staying in a hotel for long. After finding a house for sale online, I’ve already arranged for the purchase of the property with a real estate agent. The location is perfect. It’s close enough to the new club that the commute won’t be tedious, and it’s nice enough that Rodion and I can call it home while we get things up and running here.

Dumdumdumdumdum.

I rub at my chest and take a deep breath. Rodion shoots me another confused look. Thankfully, the car stops before he can probe, and I bolt from the backseat. The air is hot and sticky outside, completely opposite from the crisp, icy air of Moscow.

Instantly, I hate this place.

I’m getting a hunch.

I learned when I was a boy to trust my gut. Then, later withher, I should have gone with the feeling too. Each time, I blindly ignored the stirring in the pit of my stomach.

Each time, my heart fucking broke.

One Mississippi…two Mississippi…

“Wait,” I rasp out as Rodion starts forward. I clasp my hand around his wrist, keeping him from moving toward the entrance of the hotel.