Chapter 6 #3
Jansen spoke with only a hint of his native Dutch accent creeping through.
A decade growing up in English boarding schools was bound to do that to a child who knew the only way to be accepted was to fit in.
Curly blond hair shaved on the sides fell across his forehead in a tousled style.
He was a tall man, with little bulk, though the scantily clad club woman sitting on his lap and fighting for Jansen’s attention with the young man sitting beside him didn’t seem to mind.
All three had drinks in their hands, the bottles on the table high-end brands that wouldn’t be served on the other levels.
“If this is an apology for your club’s first impression, it needs work,” Jamie said flatly. He made a show of taking in the group in a dismissing manner before turning to look at Katie. “This is a waste of time. That’s my professional assessment.”
“It’s a good thing I’m CEO of the company and not you,” Katie replied with a delicate shrug.
“We sit, or you want us leave?” Alexei asked Jansen with a scowl on his face, playing up his accent a little bit. “Can celebrate business deal downstairs as much here.”
“We’re all about business up here, Mister—?” Jansen prompted.
“Alexei Dvorkin. Ekaterina Ovechkina is boss.”
Jansen smiled at Katie, leered really, and she returned his attention with a completely disinterested one of her own. “Mr. Jansen.”
“Please, call me Niko. Mr. Jansen makes me sound like my father,” Niko said with a lazy wave of his hand. “Take a seat.”
He snapped his fingers once, and half the people on the couches got up to leave. Judging by their attire, they were there more for pleasurable company than anything else, but no one at the table argued against their absence.
Katie made the rest of the introductions as she took a seat on the vacated couch close to the one Niko now sat on alone. “Don’t mind Alexei. He’d rather drink than socialize. Liam is Jamie’s friend, and this is my CFO—”
“Riley,” Sean interrupted with a spot-on Brooklyn accent that made Jamie want to twitch because that wasn’t part of the plan at all. Sean sat down next to Alexei and gave the two men seated across from them a brittle smile. “Tomas. It’s been a while.”
The man in question was dressed more for a pub than a VIP lounge, all cheap synthfabric and a heavy-duty jacket that looked like it’d survived one too many brawls and needed to be put out of its misery.
The shadow of a beard on his face was less five o’clock and more three days gone.
Big hands tipped a tumbler of whiskey from side to side, his hooded eyes locked on Sean.
“Aye, it has,” Tomas said, his Irish accent practically chewing the words out it was so thick with anger. “Dinnae think we’d ever see yuir face again.”
Katie, link me, now, Jamie thought at her.
Katie, a quiet, monitoring presence in the back of all their minds, opened up a telepathic link between Jamie and Sean. Her power bridged their minds beneath the mental shields she had wrapped around everyone.
What the fuck is going on? Jamie demanded.
Not the time, Sean shot back, already speaking. “Didn’t think you’d ever make deals with an Englishman, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“He’s nae English.” Tomas swallowed what was left of the whiskey in his glass before leaning forward to smack it down on the table between them. “He dinnae work for ’em either. An’ t’is nae yuir business. Ye lost our business when ye cut an’ run.”
Sean spread his hands, mouth twisting a little as he looked askance before finally shrugging off Tomas’ accusation. “I went back to the States because shit got too hot in Belfast. Yeah, my people cut our losses, but can you blame us? Especially after what happened with Cillian?”
Tomas’ eyes flashed with anger as he stabbed one thick finger at Sean, voice rising. “Ye dinnae bother ta keep reciprocity. Ye an’ yuirs nae worth ta fuckin’ time we spent on ye.”
“Emmet didn’t keep reciprocity with you either,” Sean shot back. “So don’t fucking blame me for clearing out when it looks like you did the same fucking thing if you’re here making deals when we both know you’re shit at them.”
Tomas lunged across the table, arm swinging forward. “Ye shut yuir fuckin’—”
Alexei grabbed Tomas’ fist before it could meet Sean’s face so fast his partner didn’t have time to intervene. Alexei slammed Tomas down onto the table with lightning-quick reflexes, breaking several alcohol bottles using Tomas’ face.
Tomas yelled around the crunch of his nose breaking, blood spattering over the tabletop.
The ceramic knife Alexei had hidden up his sleeve was now pressed tight against Tomas’ throat at the curve of his jaw, nicking skin.
He ground Tomas’ face into the broken glass and spilled alcohol, ignoring his shouts of pain.
Alexei stared down at the Irishman, the snarl on his face all teeth, gray eyes like chips of ice.
The click of the safety on Katie’s Beretta .
380 ACP being switched off was enough incentive to keep Tomas’ partner frozen in his seat.
“Not like your attitude,” Alexei growled in a low, dangerous voice. “Not like your face. Maybe I carve off, da?”
“That one is not worth your time, tovarishch,” the beautiful brunette woman at the other end of the table said as she crossed one long leg over the other, the little black dress she wore clinging to every curve.
“And I would hate to see you ruin such a nice suit if you cut his throat. Otpusti evo. On ne budet mishat’. ”
Alexei acted like he didn’t hear her, keeping his knife right where it was.
Jamie looked away from the problem Alexei had well in hand and smirked at the woman. “I swear, he ruins his suits as an excuse just to piss me off and get out of business meetings. That’s enough, Alexei. Let him go.”
Alexei pulled the knife away from the Irishman’s throat, spinning it between his fingers a couple of times before gripping it again.
He pointedly wiped the blade clean of any blood on the Irishman’s jacket before retaking his seat.
If Alexei sat a little closer to Sean than when he’d first claimed a spot, no one mentioned it.
Katie calmly tucked her gun back into her clutch and placed it beside her on the couch.
“I believe we’ll have to continue our business later, Tomas,” Niko said, eyeing the mess on the table as the other man moaned around a literal mouthful of glass.
Tomas’ partner hastily hauled him off the table, speaking to him in a low voice as they stumbled out of the circle of couches and chairs, heading for the exit.
Several club security people followed them down.
Zara appeared immediately with two other women by her side to quickly and quietly clean up the mess Alexei had made.
Once the blood was wiped up and the glasses and bottles replaced, Niko grinned widely at his remaining guests, leaning forward to grab a bottle of vodka and pour out a round of shots and pass them out.
“You keep interesting company, Jamie. Can I call you Jamie?” Niko asked in an ingratiating way.
Jamie waved aside the question in favor of throwing back his shot, careful not to let the glass touch his mouth in any way to keep trace DNA off it.
Fingerprints wouldn’t matter; their identities were fixed.
The vodka up here was crisper and cleaner than the brand they’d had downstairs.
“If people aren’t interesting, they bore me. ”
“What is the phrase you Americans use?” the woman down the table said. “Ah, yes. I will toast to that.”
She raised her shot glass in Jamie’s direction before tipping the vodka down her throat. One of the two men closest to her promptly refilled her glass with more vodka. Jamie caught a glimpse of a familiar tattoo ringing the man’s wrist before his hand was out of sight again.
Yes, they are exactly who you think they are, Katie murmured in his mind.
“Niko here seems to have forgotten his manners where you are concerned. You know my name, but I’m at a loss as to yours,” Jamie said with an easy smile.
“Oksana,” she said after a moment, declining to give a surname. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a man who knows how to do business.”
Jamie wondered if that was her actual name but pushed aside the thought for later. “You’d be surprised what you can accomplish when you find the right people.”
Her gaze traveled slowly over their group, taking their measure. “And what do your people do?”
“Cybersecurity,” Katie answered smoothly. “Jamie kindly agreed to get my company off the ground once we left the Marines.”
“Interesting.” Oksana took a sip of vodka, the gold-and-diamond bracelet wrapped around her wrist glittering in the light. “Niko and I were just discussing the need for security in some of my investments.”
“Perhaps we can set up a meeting to discuss it further. Root Source, Inc. has very flexible security options for the discerning client. I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I believe that would be a beneficial use of my time in the near future.” Oksana’s gaze slid Jamie’s way. “Will you be joining us for that meeting?”
In his mind, he heard Katie swearing, her presence filling his thoughts and pushing every last one of his own out of the way.
Say no. Say no, right now, she ordered in a furious voice that burned through him.
Jamie, never one to ignore his second-in-command when she sounded like that, shook his head. “I trust my people to do their job without me needing to micromanage them. Katie is more than capable of handling the decision-making responsibilities of her company.”
Oksana went still in her seat, her gaze flickering for the briefest second toward where Niko sat before returning to Jamie. “I see.”
He smiled blandly at Oksana, making a point to stroke his hand up Kyle’s leg. “I have other interests at the moment.”