Page 96 of Russian Roulette
“Of course,” I respond. “But I still need to warn her the Russians are on her trail. Hopefully, I can find her before they do. That’s my first priority because she’s in grave danger and might not realize it.”
“And your second priority?”
“To talk her into working with me.”
“Damn, I was afraid you would say that. Can’t you give it a rest for at least today? To give you time to recuperate?”
“No,” I reply. “My fingers and brain are functioning perfectly, and that’s all I need for working on the computer. My injured leg doesn’t hinder my ability to work.”
“Speaking of work, we need to get going,” Leroy says. “Your rehearsal starts in an hour and it’ll take us that long to drive back to town. Let’s get the move on.”
Seven leans over and kisses my forehead. “Stay out of trouble. I’ll be back soon.”
“I can’t make any promises,” I tell him. “Though with my leg being in the shape it is, I won’t be leaving here today. That’s for certain.”
“We can only hope,” he remarks on his way out the door.
A few minutes later, Vulcan enters, carrying a steaming mug of coffee. He sets it on the table next to me. “I hope you like your coffee black. Kit only has almond milk, no cream.”
“I’m not surprised. Black is fine. It’s how I drink it. Strong and black. Are you working today too?”
“Yes, unfortunately, every day except Sunday this week,” he responds, his eyes tired from lack of sleep. “I was off last night. I need to head out too, if you’re sure you’ll be okay here.”
He leans down, brushes my hair back and kisses me on my neck. “I would give anything if the knife blade had gone into me, instead of you, baby,” he whispers in my ear. “Why did you jump into the fight? We would never hurt you, ever.”
“I had to stop you two from hurting each other,” I tell him. “I couldn’t bear watching it any longer and had to do something.”
He sighs wearily, resting his forehead against mine. “It won’t happen again, I promise you. We’ll figure it out between us, so don’t you worry. Okay? You have enough on you. We’re here to protect you, not the other way around. Please don’t do anything reckless like that again.”
I nod, and he tilts up my chin to kiss me slowly on the lips. Closing my eyes, I breathe him in, trying to memorize his scent. Gently, he breaks away and kisses me one last time on my forehead. “Vulcan, wait,” I say when he moves to step away. A strange, uneasy sensation washes over me, and I suddenly don’t want to let him out of my sight. I grasp his hand and tug him back to me. Threading my hands in his hair, I pull his face toward mine for one more kiss. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and kisses me passionately this time. We cling tightly to each other as if it’s the last time we’ll ever touch.
“Stay safe, baby,” he says, when he finally breaks away. “I’ll be back soon.”
47
JADE
With the guys absent for the day, I experience my first genuine sense of freedom. It still astonishes me they had enough faith in me to leave me unattended. After all my efforts to gain independence, I’m uncertain of my next move.
I’m intrigued by Kit and would love to learn more about him, but I won’t snoop through his house. I’m a firm believer in respecting boundaries. I can’t expect them to respect my space if I’m unwilling to reciprocate. The most sensible course of action today is to stay put and catch up on my work.
Kit is a considerate host who anticipates my every need. Before departing, he provided me with a basket of snacks and a thermos of hot coffee nearby. I stretch out on the sofa with my laptop and review my notes once more.
What vital piece of information about Natasha am I overlooking?
My research has led me to believe she’s involved with a strip club in Vegas. If that’s the case, why couldn’t Leroy locate her? Perhaps I’ve taken the wrong approach by assuming she’s a stripper. She could work at a strip club in another capacity, such as a hostess, bartender, or even an accountant. By jumping to conclusions, I may have veered off course.
Maybe she’s employed at a different type of club. What if it’s a male strip club? An intriguing thought. Do such clubs even exist in Vegas? I imagine they must, given the sheer number of women in town for bachelorette parties.
I quickly search for male strip clubs in Vegas and find only three listings. Two of them are in dilapidated strip malls alongside pawn shops and dry cleaners. Only one club, named Platinum, stands alone in its own building.
I visit their website and browse the media section. The club specializes in bachelorette parties, catering to a female audience. Photos depict a spacious club with an expansive stage for male strippers to perform on. I skim through countless positive reviews, most highlighting the energetic atmosphere, attractive male strippers, and diverse cocktail offerings. It might be tons of fun for those interested in such an experience.
Which I’m not.
As unlikely as it may be to find Natasha in a male strip club, I can’t dismiss the possibility until I’m certain. But how do I verify this? I can’t ask Leroy to discreetly investigate. The mental image of Leroy stuffing cash into a man’s thong brings a smile to my face. He could never convincingly pretend to be gay. Besides, most of Platinum’s clientele are women, not gay men.
No, this is a task I must undertake alone. But how?
