Page 38 of The Games of Madmen

“An old friend,” I say calmly, slowly dragging my gaze from her to him.

He’s dressed well and carries an air of authority, but there’s a flash of insecurity shining in his eyes. It makes me want to pull out my pocket knife and dig the insecurity out so I can inspect it closely.

“He’s a friend of Tanner’s,” she corrects, running a pacifying hand down the man’s chest.

Yeah, he’s really fucking insecure.

“She fell and hit her face in the shower,” the insecure little scrotum announces, making Alyona stiffen in his lap. “Legs got too weak after I made her come over and over and over again.”

Anyone who has to proclaim they can get their woman off is most certainly unable to get their woman off. Poor horny Alyona must hate that shit. Again, why did she leave us? And replaced us with this piece of shit?

“Wait, I know you,” a man to their right, who looks similar to the one pawing at Alyona, states as he sits up to inspect me. His gaze lingers on my scar for a beat. “You’re one of the twins who are buying this club.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement.

And he doesn’t fuckingknowme.

“Zahkar Vetrov,” I confirm and offer a hand for him to shake. I know who the important people are just from looking at them and this guy is higher up the food chain than the insecure one.

“Adam. Adam Cunningham.”

“Pleasure.” I smile pleasantly, feeling anything but fucking pleasant. There’s a tension thickening around us. A lion wandering into another lion’s pride.

One Mississippi…

Adam snaps his fingers and a waitress appears like magic. I track her with my eyes as she fumbles with an iPad to take drink orders.

“Send a bottle of champagne over to Mr. Vetrov’s table,” Adam instructs, raking his eyes over my body and then nods his head. “A welcome celebration.”

I already don’t like this asshole or the fact he knew who I was before I introduced myself. That dislike only intensifies when his gaze lingers on Alyona as she bends to retrieve a fresh drink from the table. He stares at her tits for too long with no shame.

“I don’t want the cheap shit,” I growl to the waitress, shoving a hundred-dollar bill down her cleavage. “Thank you, sweetness.” I add on that last part because I don’t want to takeout my aggression on an innocent woman. Not when there are so many more appealing targets I could aim it at.

Alyona glowers at me.

Like her.

I smirk. “I’ll be seeingyouaround, trouble.”

Her face blanches and the man’s possessive grip tightens on her hip.

I turn and make my way back to my table, ignoring the advances of a couple of drunk women, and sit across from my brother. A bottle of our Rainbow Vodka sits on the table beside two glasses. He snags one up and sips it.

“Much better. They should offer this before anything else, not send it as an apology when they fuck up.” He takes another sip and then shoves my glass toward me. “Where were you, anyway?”

I rub at the back of my neck and cut my eyes to him. “She has bruises.”

His jaw clenches. “Who?”

He knows who. She’s the only person here who I’d care enough to bring it up to him.

“Alyona,” I say anyway before chugging the perfect vodka down. “She’s here with someone.”

I don’t need to look at my brother to know he’s sitting ramrod straight in his seat.

“She’s a kinky bitch.” He plays it off but there’s a tone in his voice that gives him away. He’s angry. Violence simmers just below his skin. I wonder if I dragged my finger along his flesh if I would be able to feel the heat of it.

“Handprints on her neck and a black eye. Even the makeup couldn’t fully cover it up.” My hand fists with the urge to punch someone in the fucking face. “She’s notthatkinky, brother.”

He whips his head around the club until he finds their table, his green eyes locked on her like a lion on a gazelle. “She’s notthe type to receive a beating and you know it. Alyona was trained by motherfucking Vas Volkov and us.” He turns my way and his nostrils flare. “You think she’s fighting? Underground?”