Mob Boss’ Curvy Hostage by Lisa Lovell

Chapter Six

Ronnie

“This is not what I want to fucking do today,” I mutter. When I woke up, I was still wrapped in the bliss and excitement of what happened last night. That never happens with one-night stands. It’s quite out of character for me, but I want to see Sophie again. Maybe I’ll give her a call later today.

I can keep the whole Ryan Madison thing a secret for a long time. Over the course of my life, I’ve jumped from alias to alias. On the rare occasion I’m found out, the person who made the discovery is taken care of one way or another.

Yeah, the media knows who I am. They think they know what I do, but they can’t prove anything and they never will. No one believes anything the media says anymore, anyway.

Playing along with their stories only worked in my favor. It makes me damn near impossible to blackmail.

“I thought Sienna was going to handle this,” my cousin, Monty, says as we walk into a grimy alley.

“I gave her another assignment,” I say. “Besides, Sergei is a real slimeball. He wouldn’t think twice about hitting her.”

“That would be the mistake of his lifetime,” Monty laughs.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t know that until after he roughs her up.”

The handle of the single unmarked door is covered in soot and other city residues. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to make a house call like this. I’m not pleased about it.

The door leads to a narrow, dimly lit hallway with red wallpaper and eggplant carpet. It’s tacky and grand, just like Sergei. The hallway wraps around the perimeter of a nightclub that will open in a few hours.

Sergei’s door is propped open. He’s on the phone with someone but I don’t give a shit. He made me come all the way down here. I’m not waiting to talk to him.

Monty and I step into his office without warning. As soon as Sergei sees us, his eyes widen. He weighs his options, but he doesn’t have any. If he tries to run, he won’t be able to get past us. If he reaches for the vintage revolver he keeps in his desk, he won’t get a chance to fire it. Monty is always armed.

I prefer not to use weapons when I go about my business. With modern medicine and forensics, weapons tell a story now. I can’t be attached to that. If my father still ran things, there would be a blood trail leading right to us. As the world changes, I’ve had to make adjustments.

“I’ll call you back.” Sergei slams the phone down and puts on a genteel smile. “My boys! What brings you here?”

“You know why I’m here, Sergei.” I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “You’ve missed payments. I have a steep interest rate.”

“How is that possible?” He pantomimes confusion while trying to put as much distance between himself and Monty as possible. “I always pay. You know this!”

“You’re last three payments didn’t go through,” I shrug.

“I cannot explain why that would have happened. You have to believe me! Why would I ever want to make an enemy out of you? My club is a success because of you!”

“I’m well aware of that,” I say. “And I think I might be able to shed some light on what happened. You paid with fake fucking checks, Sergei. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Your vendors probably can’t tell the difference but I fucking can.”

For a split second, the truth appears plain on Sergei’s face but he’s quick to cover it up. “I made a simple mistake, that is all! I swear to you.”

“If it happened once, I might believe it was a mistake. It happened three times. I want my payment now.”

“Look,” he sinks back into his chair, defeated. “I’ll be honest with you. We’ve had a shitty couple of months. I just need time.”

“You have three days.”

“Ronnie, please! That’s not enough time. I need at least another month,” he pleads.

I consider giving in but charging him an interest rate of fifty percent. He needs to be punished, but I’m not an unreasonable man. Unreasonable men don’t live long in this line of work.

I spy a safe in the corner of the room, disguised to look like an end table. It even has an old doily and a flower arrangement.

“What’s in the safe?” I ask Sergei.

“Safe? What safe?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows he made a mistake.

“Lying again? That’s not very smart. Monty?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Please assist our friend in getting the safe open.”

With a curt nod, Monty pulls out a sleek little handgun. All of the color drains from Sergei’s face.

“There’s nothing important in the safe,” he stammers. “Just photographs and other things of sentimental value.”

“I’d like to see for myself,” I smile. Monty steps closer to Sergei, who scurries to the safe. With shaking hands, he opens the safe. Inside are stacks of cash. “What’s this, Sergei?”

“Fake bills!” He blurts.

“Monty, check the bills, please.”

Monty shoves Sergei aside and grabs a stack of money. “They’re real, boss.”

“How about that,” I smirk. “I’ll just take my payment now, Sergei. Unless you object?”

“I-” Sergei knows there’s nothing he can say that won’t get him into even more trouble. “You’re a rat bastard, Ronnie. Your whole family is rotten.”

“That’s not very hospitable,” I snarl. “We’re guests in your establishment.”

“Just get the fuck out!”

That classic Sergei rage emerges. I tighten my hand into a fist, ready to let him feel the rage of my own.

Monty pockets the missing payments and probably a little extra for himself. Not that I care. Sergei created his own mess.

Monty and I slam his office door when we leave.

“Is that all we’re going to do?” Monty asks.

“Hell no,” I snap. “We’re going to send some of the boys in after this place closes. They’re going to have a private party and leave a big mess for Sergei to clean up in the morning. Set it up for me, will you?”

“Sure thing.”

I reach for my wallet, but I don’t find it in its usual pocket. I check every other pocket but I don’t have it. I don’t remember seeing it in the car. I don’t remember seeing it since…

Shit.

Last night. When everything fell.

My wallet better be under the seat or something. If it’s with Sophie…I pray she doesn’t open it.