I made a split-second decision. Glanced at the bar and the bottle of expensive vodka waiting on a tray...
“Okay, thanks! Bye!” I turned to go, swinging my purse up my arm and over my shoulder. I felt it hit something, but I forced myself not to look…
The bottle shattered on the floor. I squealed and spun around. “Oh my God! Was that me?!”
The bartender was cursing in Russian as he stared down at the mess of broken glass and vodka on the floor behind the bar. “Just go!” he snapped.
I took a few steps towards the door...then, as soon as he knelt down behind the bar to start cleaning up, I veered off and crept down the stairs.
I could hear muffled voices, but it was hard to tell where they were coming from. Heart hammering, I passed the main room with its T-shaped stage and stripper poles, then a series of curtained booths…
There. A door at the end markedPrivate. I snuck over and put my ear to it, but I couldn’t hear anything. I cracked open the door, barely daring to breathe?—
A messy desk and an overflowing filing cabinet. Definitely the office. I grabbed the phone charger from my purse and plugged it into an outlet, temptingly close to the desk. I was just about to leave when I saw a name scrawled on a Post-it note, half-hidden beneath a stackof papers. Daniil. Amvrosy’s brother. Wait, was it possible that...had Amvrosy justscribbled down his brother’s phone number?!Could I just?—
I moved the stack of papers so I could see the whole thing.Yes!There was a phone number. I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture. Sometimes, in this job, you just catch a break.
And sometimes, you don’t. “Who the fuck are you?” asked a voice from behind me. “What the fuck are you doing in my office?”
I spun around. A tall man in a suit had just come out of a side room, and I recognized the balding head and messy beard instantly. Amvrosy Inkin. And he was pulling a big, chromed handgun from under his jacket.
Fuck. My heart jumped into my throat. Why was he here in the middle of the day? What the hell was going on? I searched for an explanation. Should I admit I was FBI? Normally, that would keep me alive, even if it meant blowing the operation. Even the Bratva think twice before executing FBI agents. But Amvrosy was violent and half drunk: I could smell the vodka from here. And if he realized I was after his beloved brother, he might just kill me to protect him. “I want to be a dancer,” I tried, staring at the gun. “I came down here looking for the bathroom!”
“Bullshit!” roared Amvrosy. “I saw you taking a photo!” And he raised his gun to fire.
“Wait!” The voice came from the side room, low and calm and loaded with authority. Amvrosy and I froze.
Gennadiy stepped out into the hallway, scowling and magnificent. “She’s with me.”
11
ALISON
What the fuck?I just stood there, staring like an idiot, as my brain struggled to processhim, here.
“She’s with you?” The barrel of Amvrosy’s gun wavered. “She wasn’t with you when you arrived.”
And suddenly I realized why Amvrosy was here during the day, why he had a bodyguard watching the door upstairs, and why the bartender had been twitchy. The Aristovs must own this place: they must have hung onto it when they left New York. Amvrosy ran it for them, and today the big boss had shown up, probably at short notice. No wonder everyone was on edge.
Gennadiy’s eyes ran over me. “I met her this morning. She works in the coffee shop down the street. I told her she was pretty and that she should audition here.”
I tried to keep my face neutral. Inside, my mind was whirling. Is he...saving me?!
Amvrosy frowned doubtfully...then, to my relief, he lowered his gun. “She’s pretty enough,” he said, as if I wasn’t standing right there, “But she doesn’t have much in the way of tits.”
Gennadiy stormed forward, forcing Amvrosy back against thewall and making him gulp in fear. “Some men like small breasts!” Gennadiy snapped.
An unexpected bomb of warmth went off in my chest. Then Gennadiy looked at me, and I drew in my breath: the anger in his eyes, coupled with the sheer imposing size of him, was terrifying. Suddenly, stealing his money didn’t seem so smart.
Amvrosy extricated himself from between Gennadiy and the wall and turned to me. “You shouldn’t have gone in there,” he told me, pointing at the office. “Why were you taking a picture?”
I looked at my toes. “I was looking for the bathroom. I went in there by mistake, and then I saw the club’s phone number on a bill, and I realized I didn’t have it, so I thought I’d just take a quick photo.” I tried to sound scared, which didn’t take much acting: Amvrosy still had the gun. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong.”
Amvrosy stared at me for a moment, then grunted and finally holstered his gun. “Fine,” he told me. “You want to audition, you can audition.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him, his voice roughening with lust. “You can give me a lap dance.”
What?! Oh crap.He pulled me towards one of the VIP booths, and I stumbled after him, off balance in my ridiculous heels.
A big, tattooed hand smacked into the wall right in front of Amvrosy’s face. Amvrosy froze, looked at the arm that blocked his way, then followed it up to Gennadiy’s face.
