Fit for a Sheikh. Kristi Gold
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trash bin to feel along his ribs where Shakir had kicked him. Nothing broken, only bruised, he suspected. No punctured lung, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to breathe at all.
Damn the woman who’d run into him. He should’ve killed her. He would have, had it not been for that bastard, Shakir. The recollection of his knife slicing through the man’s skin gave him added strength and a good deal of purpose as he continued on at a sprint. He didn’t have to guess how Shakir had found him. The idiot Larry Sutter. The blood-sucking attorney had no doubt ratted him out, setting him up with a promise of money, enough money to purchase passage out of the country. He should have known not to trust him. Should have known that Sutter had lied when he’d said he was leaving the hospital, the meeting tonight a ruse to protect Sutter’s ass.
Damn Shakir and Sutter. If Shakir wasn’t dead, and he hoped he was, he would find a way to take him out. He would take them both out, beginning with Sutter. But how? He couldn’t get close to the hospital; they would recognize him.
Tommy Stokes. The ex-con had escaped from Texas but no doubt he would be back in Vegas by now, frequenting his favorite haunts, keeping company with less-than-upstanding citizens. Places where anyone could get anything, if the price was right. Business was good for a man with a thirst for blood and the absence of a soul.
He didn’t have money to pay Stokes, but one thing was working in his favor—the thug hated lawyers. Stokes would agree to off Sutter for the sheer pleasure of watching him suffer as payback for the attorney who hadn’t saved him from a five-year prison term. Now he would just have to find the ex-con, and he would. Tonight.
As it had been all of Roman Birkenfeld’s life, people had tried to thwart his goals. They hadn’t succeeded until now. His medical career was a bust, all the years of hard work and struggle gone down the tubes because of some determined East Coast loan sharks and a woman who’d enlisted a group of Texas vigilantes determined to destroy him. It always came back to a woman, in this case, Natalie Perez.
Natalie was out of reach this time, but Shakir wasn’t. Someone would have to pay. It might as well be him.
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