Page 2 of Her Russian Master
“Manager says he’s not in yet but she’s expecting him later,” Freddo said.
“Bullshit,” he rasped, his Russian accent always growing thicker when he got tough.
“Right.So we grabbing the girl?”Tommy asked.
“Not yet.”He spoke too quickly.Willing his body to hang loose and easy, he surveyed the club.“We wait.If he doesn’t show by closing time, the girl comes with us.I told her to call him.”
“And you think he’ll come running down to get his ass kicked?”Freddo snorted.
“No.But we can’t grab the DJ in the middle of a set.They’ll call the cops in a heartbeat.”
“No one here wants the cops involved,” Tommy countered.
He was right.The club may be high end and filled with hordes of beautiful people, but it also was a mecca for drug sales of all kinds.Which was how Jake had got himself fucked.
“They will if you drag the girl out in front of three hundred witnesses.Sit.We wait.”
Yuri wasn’t their leader.He was just a fucking soldier.Freddo was his capo, but his experience in the Russianmafiyahad encompassed a lifetime’s worth of street cred, so they’d learned to respect his opinions.He just hoped he could keep leading this show until Lucy was out of the don’s crosshairs.
Tommy strong-armed his way into a table and chairs and they waved down a cocktail waitress, who came running, having learned months ago that if she gave them special service, they tipped in c-notes.
He slid his chair around where he could keep an eye on his beautiful DJ, which wasn’t anything new.He always positioned himself where he could see her.Watching her revel in pumping up a crowd was the only glimmer of light in his fucking mess of an unlived life.Three years he’d been working undercover for the FBI as Don Diego’s enforcer, and he still hadn’t managed to nail the guy.His life was a series of drug drops and beatings.He had yet to be ordered to kill, which was either a good thing or bad.If the order came through Freddo, he’d be in a bad place—forced to choose to kill or blow his cover without nailing Don Diego.The part that gave him night sweats was wondering which he’d choose.He had so much blood on his hands already.A little more in the name of justice wouldn’t change much.
Or would it?
Wasn’t his soul supposed to be saved now that he’d gone straight?
On the other hand, if he managed to get a recording of Don Diego making the order to kill, he’d have succeeded, making his mentor, boss and possibly only friend, Leo, proud.
The Russian was staringat her.That wasn’t new.Every time he came into the club he found a chair with a view of the dance floor and watched—not the dance floor, but her.As if there was anything interesting about a DJ.She’d been tempted to flash her tits or something just to see what he’d do.
But tonight was different.Jake hadn’t told her exactly what happened, but from what she’d pieced together, some money or drugs had been stolen from him and now he owed the mob.He’d told her they’d given him a deadline and he was trying to scrape the money together.He’d also promised he’d have it figured out in time, but based on the way Yuri the Fury had busted in her DJ booth door, Jake’s time was up.
Her gut twisted with dread.She’d known, the first time she saw the mobsters in the Blue Turtle, her brother was in over his head.But of course he wouldn’t listen to her.She was six years his junior, which meant he still thought of her as a baby.
It probably didn’t help that she’d done nothing with her college communications degree except backpack across Europe, rock his dance floor, and sign up for a yoga teacher training course.He was the one tellingherto fix her life.But he’d been partying too much since he opened the nightclub.
She got it.It was an exciting, glamorous world, and by the simple nature of being the club owner, he was a rockstar.He’d started snorting coke recreationally and occasionally dropping E.Then he’d started dealing—just a little to his best customers, he’d told her.And his dealers?Yeah.They were members of the Italian mafia.Who also happened to employ one intense and sexy Russian with an apparent crush on her.
She’d asked Jake to be careful, but he always exuded confidence.He’d told her he had it handled.Nothing bad would ever happen.
Famous last words.
Oh God, no.She couldn’t think that.Jake would show up with the money any minute now.And hopefully he would never do business with these men again.
Somehow she made it through her set, but with the Russian and his Italian heavies staring her down, she’d lost her mojo completely.Not that anyone on the dance floor noticed.
The DJ who gave her an hour’s break between sets came into the booth and she pulled off the headphones and put her records back into her plastic crate, taking it with her, since she didn’t trust other DJs not to steal them.She went straight from the booth through the door that led behind the bar, annoying all the bartenders as she lifted her crate high to get past them.Though she didn’t look, she sensed the Russian trailing her along the other side of the bar.She kept moving, into the storeroom, where she shoved her records into a locking cupboard and grabbed her purse.From there, she went out the far door and around the corner to the women’s restroom, just as the Russian pushed through the crowd to catch up with her.Inside, she leaned against the wall and attempted to slow her heart rate.
She checked her phone.No response from Jake.
Damn him.
She needed to get out of the club.
A scantily-dressed, leggy brunette stood at the mirror, primping.Lucy fished a twenty dollar bill out of her purse.“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you kiss the sexy Russian standing outside this door.”
The woman grinned, snatching up the money before Lucy had even finished talking.“What’s he look like?”
