“Dance With Me,” The Mafia Boss Ordered—The Shy Waitress Whispered, “I’m Still Working”

Chloe felt her knees buckle. She grabbed the edge of the kitchen island to keep from collapsing.

“He’s gone?” she whispered, tears immediately blurring her vision. “Volkov got him?”

“We do not know that for certain,” Dominic said, setting his glass down and walking slowly toward her. “My men found signs of a struggle, but no body. Tommy is a rat, Chloe. And rats are exceptionally good at surviving when cornered. He may have moved to a secondary location.”

“He was bleeding out, Dominic!” Chloe yelled, her fear finally boiling over into anger. “He’s not Jason Bourne, he’s a gambling addict who made a stupid mistake! If Volkov has him, he’s going to die!”

“Then you better pray he brings the drives to Victor before they finish interrogating him,” Dominic replied coldly.

Before Chloe could slap the arrogant look off his face, the heavy steel door of the penthouse unlocked with a loud, electronic chime.

Three men walked in. They were dressed in sharp suits, but they moved with the lethal, heavy grace of seasoned killers. The man in the center was older, with silver hair and a brutally scarred face.

“Silas,” Dominic greeted the older man with a nod. “Status report.”

Silas looked at Chloe, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of confusion and open contempt. “The club is secured, Boss. We pushed the Russians back to their territory in the North End. No casualties on our side, but they shot up the front windows pretty bad.”

“The glass can be replaced,” Dominic dismissed.

“With all due respect, Dominic,” a younger, aggressive-looking lieutenant stepped forward. “We just started a shooting war with the Russian syndicate over a waitress. The capos are asking questions. Why are we risking the entire operation for a girl who pours drinks?”

Dominic’s posture changed instantly. He didn't yell. He didn't threaten. He simply turned his dark, dead eyes onto the young lieutenant. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

“You are questioning my orders, Marcus?” Dominic asked, his voice a lethal whisper.

Marcus swallowed hard, taking a subtle step back. “No, Boss. Just... conveying the concerns of the men. Volkov is crazy. He’s going to retaliate hard.”

“Let him retaliate,” Dominic stated, turning his back on them to look out the window. “Victor Volkov thinks he can walk into my city, into my club, and take what he wants. He is mistaken. We are going to find Tommy Adams, we are going to take the ledger, and we are going to bury the Russians so deep they won't see sunlight for a decade.”