She nodded. “I was planning to call as soon as things settled down.”

“Zoe called me back just before I got here. Ivan Dmitri Petrov’s his full name. Russian parents. Petrov owns a fancy supper club in Vegas called the Four Winds, which is where he generally hangs out. But he also owns strip clubs in Vegas, Reno, all over Nevada.”

He pulled out his cell and brought up the photo of Petrov that Zoe had texted. Six feet tall, thick-shouldered and barrel-chested, slicked-back black hair and hard features.

“He lives in a house worth somewhere close to fifteen million dollars. Italian style. Calls it Villa Milano.”

Skye took a sip of her beer. “Guy definitely lives the high life. Did Zoe find any connection between him and Carl Wisen or Oscar Andreyev?”

“She’s on it. She’s got other stuff to do, so it may take a few days.”

“You know, there’s always the chance Henson served Petrov up to the DEA in order to save his own rotten skin.”

“Yeah, I thought of that. Daniel’s afraid of Petrov, but working with the feds is probably his best chance of getting a lesser sentence.”

“I’ve been expecting to hear from Cross,” Skye said. “Sooner or later, he’s going to want a statement from Lila.”

“He knows where to find her.”

She nodded. “Meanwhile, we’re off to Vegas. What’s our objective?”

“For now, we just sniff around, get the lay of the land. Maybe check out Wisen and Andreyev, see how they fit into the scheme of things.”

“Sounds good. Are we driving or flying?” Skye asked.

“Too far to drive, and getting our weapons through the airlines is too much trouble. Better to fly private. I’ve already made the arrangements for a charter to leave in the morning, if that works for you.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“We don’t know what we’ll be facing so prepare for anything.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll need accommodations. I was thinking the Bellagio.” Hot blue eyes ran over her, scorching in their intensity.

“Nice place,” she said.

He nodded, took another drink of beer. “So the only question is . . . one room or two?”

Silence fell. Skye looked up at him, her insides churning. Surely, he could read in her face what she wanted. With his black hair, blue eyes, and perfect features, he was so handsome it made her breath catch. To say nothing of his sculpted, amazing body. She knew he was going to leave. It was only a matter of time.

Still . . .

His phone rang before she could answer.

Edge took the call and walked a few paces away to speak. He looked different when he returned. Harder. Darker. She knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

“That was Grease. Bradley Markham’s discharge came through. He’s moving to San Diego.”

Her insides tightened. “San Diego? Why San Diego?”