Page 45 of Lethal Torture
“Zin’s hired some muscle,” Charlie answers, also without looking at me. “She’s obviously shook about whoever’s trying to knock her off.”
So much for keeping a low profile.On the upside, I’m gaining more respect for Zinaida’s team by the minute.
“If he’s one of Mak’s boys, he’ll be hard up our arses on security,” she adds.
“Hmm.” Enzo folds his arms and regards me with one sloping eye beneath an arched, no doubt perfectly waxed, eyebrow. “Despite the terrible fucking haircut, I might actually enjoy that.”
“I never put out on the first date.” I nod at the computer in front of him. “Mind if I get started?” I move past him without waiting for permission and type in my master code.
Enzo stares at me consideringly for a long moment. Then he drops his arms and grins, flashing teeth so white they’re blinding. “Oh, darling. This is going to be fun. I’d say slip in behind me, but I take it a fuck is out of the question. What?” he says to Charlie, screwing up his face as she shakes her head.
“I thought you might at least play alittlehard to get,” she moans, glaring at him. “You’re such a whore, Enzo.”
“Darling, I’m the best whore in the business.” He says it with the arrogant certainty of someone who has the receipts to back up his claim. “I certainly get more cock than you do. But since you march around dressed like a lesbian who got lost in the eighties, that’s hardly surprising, now is it?”
“Oh, fuck you.” Charlie heads for the stairs. “I need coffee.” She points a finger at me. “And I don’t give a fuck who you are—stay out of my way until I’ve drunk it.”
“Done.” I’m already inside the computer. “I can work in the security room upstairs until you’re ready to go. I’ll just set up my local access, then I’ll be out of your way.”
“Oh, and a man who doesn’t fuck around, either.” Enzo puts a hand over his chest. “I think I’m in love. But make it quick. I’d happily look at that hard ass of yours all day, but not behind my desk when we’re coming up to peak hour. Sorry, sweetheart, but I just don’t need that kind of competition. Besides,” he says, giving me a dirty smile, “the ladies take one look at you, and they’ll start expecting you to be included in their membership. And I’m warning you, not even that fine-looking bulge of yours could service the collective needs of this establishment. We already have over a hundred top male escorts on payroll, and believe me, they’re all exhausted.”
I can’t help it; I burst out laughing. “Oh, I believe you.”
“Mollie will show you to the security room. Mollie!” he barks, and another perfectly coiffed young girl appears, eyeing him nervously. “Take Mr.—” He raises a questioning eyebrow.
“Luke,” I supply, still grinning.
“Oh God.” He rolls his eyes theatrically. “Ofcourseyou have a cowboy name. Well, Mollie, takeLukeup to the security room and give him whatever raw egg and steak concoction keeps him looking his fine self. I’ll add you to everything you need in the system,” he says, pushing me out of the way and tapping the keyboard at the speed of light. “But no member files.” He gives me a fierce look. “You can look at the list of names, but no details. Members are all vetted by a cyber team. We quite literally know every detail of their lives, and I don’t believe in sharing.”
“Understood.” I’m just being polite. If I want details, I’ll get them. But there’s nothing to be gained by pissing off Enzo. I’d far rather gain his trust.
And despite the light-hearted banter among Zin’s staff, I’m under no illusions about how difficult that task is going to be.
For a split second I see Zinaida on the bed, mouth open in a silent scream as she hits orgasm.
Fuck.
Zin’s staff might be a challenge, but they’re a walk in the fucking park compared to the woman herself.
And if I’m perfectly honest, I know the most difficult task ahead has nothing to do with business, and everything to do with keeping my own savage desire under control.
11
ZINAIDA
By the timeI reach the private dining floor, my heart rate has actually reached something approaching normality for the first time since Luke jammed his pistol into my naked butt.
Luckily, going by the stiff-backed figure standing at the window.
“Good morning, Madam Home Secretary.” I close the door behind me.
“I don’t like it when my department makes the front page ofanynewspaper, Miss Melikov.” Dame Agatha Chalmondeley turns from the window to glare at me as I cross the room. “Let alone a dishrag like theDaily Truth. I like it even less when a journalist implies that one of my agencies has ties to, and I quote, ‘criminal elements.’”
She sits down, and I politely follow suit. Agatha is in her sixties, with perfectly blow-dried silver hair, austere features, and a steely-eyed gaze that has been known toreduce even seasoned members of the Opposition to stuttering incompetence.
“Your clubs walk a fine line,” she continues crisply, “but a well-trodden one. And going by how many members of Parliament hold memberships to them, I imagine themurkier activities which take place behind your doors are safe enough, at least for now.”
She says the wordsmurkier activitieswith visible distaste.
