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Sixteen years had passed, and she was still messing with his head. And in his line of work, that was deadly. He needed to put an end to it. Just like he’d put an end to Lorenzo Morelli.
Then it hit him. He would banish her. Not just from San Fran, but from the fucking continent. For, so help him God, if he had to breathe in the same air with her any longer, one of them was not going to make it.
“We have a meeting with Sokolov tomorrow,” Kristoff reminded him, pulling his thoughts back to the here and now.
Kristoff’s old mentor, the Pakhan from St. Petersburg, wanted to expand his pipeline to the West Coast. The man was a Russian oligarch during the day and ruled the underworld during the night. He was the last patriarch of his family, and famous for holding on to the old ways.
Dark green eyes scrutinized him. “I need your head in the game.”
“I’ll be there.”
“In control,” Kristoff stipulated.
The man was big on being in control. “I’ll be as cool and collected as a Vor before hitting thirteen bottles of vodka.”
***
Viking returned to his place above Club Flux. He was ready to wash the grime off and call it a day. Baran and Yuri were standing at his door.
He was met with hardwood floors, trendy furniture in black and white, like a picture from a home décor magazine. Kristoff had insisted on the location, claiming the underboss couldn’t keep living in a squat house. No matter how big your street crew, or how notorious your rep, at the end of the day, it was also about keeping up appearances. People liked to look up at someone or something. Even more so if you were a made man.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a half-naked girl in thigh-high stockings jumped into his arms.
“Daddy!”
Judging by her martini breath, it was a wonder she was still standing.
He barely kept in a sigh as he held her in his arms. He had tortured and killed numerous men, he was feared on the streets, but there was one thing he couldn’t figure out—how to keep away coeds with daddy issues looking for a hard fuck.
“What are you doing here?”
She gave him a pout which looked ridiculous on a grown woman with so much collagen in her lips.
“It’s spring break and Mandy missed her daddy.” For some reason, this one spoke of herself in the third person.
She licked his neck, dotting it with kisses, working him up.
Maybe this was what he needed to clear his mind. Just fuck this girl’s brains out and forget about the other one. The hazel-eyed witch who still haunted his dreams and had ruined him.
He grabbed Mandy by the ass and pushed her toward the bedroom.
A growl sounded beneath his feet, and golden paws landed on his legs. Seventy pounds of fluff was demanding attention from his master. Though, sometimes the line between master and pet faded.
“Is he still here?” Mandy sounded petulant.
His dog didn’t like strangers around him. Especially not women.
‘Cause my dog is smarter than most men.
He didn’t answer Mandy, just took her to his bedroom and dropped her onto the bed.
“Strip. Hands and knees.”
Just as she took off her bra, Loki jumped on the bed.
Mandy yelped, suddenly looking sharper. “He looks like he’s going to bite me.”
“He won’t.” Loki only did that on command.
