Everywhere Gedeon looked, from the tall vases in various places on the floor to the paintings on the walls, the room held tremendous artwork. He could have spent weeks there, just in that one room, and never be able to see all of the priceless art.
“Mr. Volkov.” The voice was smooth. A hint of arrogance. Of amusement. The man knew the impression that room would make on anyone. He found Gedeon’s reaction particularly amusing and let him see.
Gedeon turned his gaze from one of the paintings depicting two dragons falling from the skies, talons locked together as they spun toward the ground, wings out. The artist had been so good Gedeon could almost feel the combat, the way the two males were fighting for supremacy, both refusing to give in even when death was so close. He turned cold eyes on the men who had orchestrated the murders of his family members.
He had been certain, when he had asked to see them, they would have him investigated. He knew they wouldn’t ever find a connection to his family, long dead now. No one ever thought or remembered that the pakhan had kept his mother and the youngest boy alive. There had been no one left alive to remember.
He had the kind of reputation that would intrigue these men. He had never failed to get a job done—unless he had made his client disappear. One didn’t ever double-cross him. He could track and find anyone, given enough time. He negotiated deals between lairs that despised one another and made them stick. He had become legendary. He knew he would be facing all five of the board members, not just two. That suited his plans. It also meant he had to be much more careful.
“Please take a seat, Mr. Volkov, and let us know how we can be of service to you,” said Bolin Wang, the appointed spokesman. From everything Rene could dig up on them, Bolin Wang was often the front man. He was soft-spoken and very slow to rile. “I’m Bolin Wang. These are my colleagues, Longwei Lis.” He indicated the shorter man with gray hair worn pulled back in a ponytail. Lis wore traditional robes almost as ornate as the dragon chair he sat in. His son, Kang, sat behind him looking annoyed, bored and petulant. He wore a suit, as did the three Russian bratya. Each of those men was introduced, and Gedeon marked them for death. Makar Turgenev. Ilari Morozov. Klim Zima. These were men from the same region Gedeon’s family had originated from. One of these men had gone to the others out of jealousy and conceived his plan of ridding the world of anyone who might be smarter, or faster, or better at anything than they were.
Gedeon had been a toddler, but he had a good memory. Once an event took place in his presence, it was imprinted on his brain. What’s more, it was there in Slayer’s memories as well. He called up his leopard. They simply needed a trigger. One small word or gesture, the way the man turned his head or gestured with his hands, would bring the memory to the forefront.
Gedeon seated himself in the ornate high-backed, gold-edged dragon chair facing the five men. He was well versed in appearing confident because he was. He had already assessed the situation. Each of these men had bodyguards, but they were arrogant and had ordered their guards to stay to the other side of the room. The room was enormous. Not one of the bodyguards, even though they were shifters, could get to their primary target before Gedeon could kill them.
He knew he could kill at least three of them before the others could react. Meiling would take out the other two and possibly Kang. Then it would be a fight to make it out of the palace without the soldiers getting to them before they could escape the country. Without their leaders, the lairs would collapse into chaos for a time. Gedeon doubted new leaders would want to seek revenge, but if they were that reckless, he would cope with the fallout when he had to.
He studied the faces watching him so intently as he explained that he had taken the job of finding an unknown woman for Lubin and Miguel Diaz. He understood these men wanted the woman delivered to them. Since they wanted her, perhaps they had more information on her that would aid him in his work. Lubin and Miguel had no information whatsoever on her. It had been Frankie who had kidnapped her cousin, Libby, and ultimately killed her. Gedeon sounded bored, as if he were repeating facts, data he’d acquired.
“This is the hotshot investigator, coming to us for information because he can’t do his job,” Kang sneered.
Gedeon didn’t deign to look at Lis’s son. “If you can’t—or won’t—help me, no worries, I can run her down, but I thought it would be faster if you had more data on her. It seemed as if you were in a hurry to find her. I can leave,” he offered.