Chapter 43 Kane
Kane
Chiara holds Luka’s hand as Angelo steps into the reception of Remington’s exclusive club. The hostess smiles and sashays over, ready to check our credentials.
“Welcome, Mr. Smith.” The woman’s wearing a slinky silk dress that highlights her slim frame to perfection, and her hair and makeup are on point. In another lifetime, I’d have hit her up. She’s stunning.
The hostess flashes a fake smile before shoving a tablet at Angelo.
“I need to see your QR code, sir.”
He shows her his phone, and she nods in affirmation after scanning it.
We have Milo to thank for the information we needed to access tonight’s event. It’s invitation only, with a substantial cover fee for attendees. We have the invitation snagged from Lorenzo’s office, thanks to Chiara, but it didn’t mention money.
Milo called as I was moving Vivian into a guest room in the basement.
At some point, we need to deal with her, but not until we’ve found Fina.
Milo had put several of the missing pieces together after I informed him of Tim’s link with Oswald Barrington, and also Lorenzo’s meddling in the business.
We’re still not sure who’s responsible for the accounts anomalies, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.
Once Milo had more information, he dug deeper and found a site on the dark web, where patrons pay in Bitcoin to attend auctions at the club. Since the next event was tonight, we had to act fast.
Angelo coughed up the required cover fee, and here we are, with a QR code as our entry ticket.
Mr. Smith is a tech billionaire who made his fortune coding an app to keep kids safe online. Why Milo thought that was a suitable cover story for an event like this is beyond me, but the fucker is weird, so I didn’t question it.
Once we’re inside, we’ll split up and search the place.
I’ve posted men at various points outside, ready to handle any problems that arise.
We’re also assisted by Kyril Orliov and his wife, who happened to be in town for a social engagement.
Once Thea Oriliov heard what was going on, she insisted on being a part of this.
Angelo wasn’t happy at the implied suggestion that he was incapable of rescuing his own sister, but he grudgingly accepted the offer of help.
And naturally, Chiara wasn’t about to be left at home.
I finger the plain black mask covering half of my face. We all have masks, although Chiara’s is by far the most decorative.
“Please wear masks at all times to maintain privacy. I hope you and your guests have an enjoyable evening, Mr. Smith,” the hostess says with a polite smile before pressing a button to open a set of heavy metal doors.
We step into a large elevator lined with mirrors. Above our heads, a camera winks, but I’m not concerned. Milo is busy hacking into the security system, so he’ll delete all traces of us.
The elevator glides down a level. The minute it stops and the doors crack open, the heavy thump of bass hits me hard.
Some parts of Remington’s club are accessible to the lower-tier members. These include a bar area with a dance floor, and private booths where VIPs can entertain guests.
The rooms located through a second door, up a black glass staircase, are where the real fun happens.
I first visited the club with Angelo a few years back when it opened. We had a good time, but since I don’t have exhibitionist or voyeurism kinks, I’ve spent little time here since. But watching live sex shows or taking part in orgies isn’t why we’re here tonight.
The bar is one long slab of glittering marble in front of a blue-lit glass wall. It’s ostentatious as hell, but they serve my preferred brand of tequila, so I don’t much care.
A huge beast of a man stands at the bar with his back to us, one arm loosely hooked over a petite but curvy brunette’s shoulder. Other patrons are giving him a wide berth, which is understandable.
Kyril Orliov’s reputation precedes him, but even though he’s unrecognizable to everyone in this fucked-up club thanks to the obligatory mask, the menacing aura he exudes is enough to keep most people away.
The brunette turns when she hears us approach, her red lips curved up in a smile when she locks eyes with Chiara. She’s wearing a red fox mask decorated with tiny orange sequins while the Russian wears a plain black skeleton mask.
“Ah, the runaway bride,” she laughs. Angelo tenses but wisely refrains from saying anything potentially offensive.
To my surprise, Chiara grins. A white lace mask obscures her upper face, but her eyes sparkle. “That’s me! Ohmigod, I’m so happy to meet you!”
“Likewise,” Thea replies with a grin. “Anyone who can evade those two for a year gets my vote.” She cocks her head at me and Angelo with a smirk before her mouth flattens. “I’m not a fan of forced marriages.”
I know a little of her backstory, so that makes sense. Her father tried to force her into a marriage with a Romanian mobster, but she escaped. Even though he’s long dead, it’s fucking obvious she still carries scars from the experience.
“No, they suck,” Chiara agrees. “But we’ve all moved on.” She leans into Luka, making it clear where her affections lie, which makes Angelo scowl harder. But to my surprise - and Thea’s - Chiara then grabs Angelo’s hand and smiles.
“I’m over it now, so no need to stab the asshole on my behalf.”
Kyril is watching this exchange. It’s hard to read him, but the fact he’s here and willing to help us says he’s not our enemy.
“Fiiine, I won’t stab him.” Thea winks before casting a quick glance around the busy bar. “But the rest of them are fair game.”
I have no clue where she’s hiding her weapons, as her dress is skin-tight and made from some sort of shiny latex material, but from what I know of her, she’s deadly even without a gun or blade.
I fully expected us to be patted down before we entered the club, but no doubt that will happen before we can access the lower levels, where the auction takes place.
“Behave, kotenok,” Kyril growls, wrapping his meaty fist around her throat in a highly possessive way. “We need to check this place out.” He drains his glass and slams it down on the bar, making a nearby guy in a suit jump. “You have my number,” he tells Angelo. “Message me if you find anything.”
“I’ll try to leave you a few bad guys to kill,” Thea whispers under her breath in Angelo’s direction.
“Please don’t go on a murder spree,” he hisses back. “The cleanup would cost me a fortune. We find my sister and get the fuck out.”
Thea turns to Chiara. “Is he always this boring?”
She nods. “Pretty much, yeah.”
I choke on a laugh while Luka snorts.
“Good job I have a sense of humor,” Chiara comments. “God knows I need it when dealing with his father. Feel free to off him if you bump into the old bastard.”
“Noted.” Kyril snatches his wife’s hand and tugs her away, heading around the dance floor toward the VIP section. We watch as they ascend the glass stairs and disappear.
Angelo turns back to the three of us. “Luka, stay with Kane. I don’t want to have to rescue you as well.” Luka’s blank expression doesn’t give much away, but Chiara reaches for his hand and squeezes.
“If any bitches touch you, let Kane stab them, yeah?”
I love how possessive she is, and from the way Luka gives her a soft smile before nodding, he does too.
“I’ll be fine,” he reassures her. She slants a look at me.
“If anything bad happens to him, I’ll blame you,” she warns. I pull her into my arms, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair.
“You can trust me, kitten. I won’t let anything happen to your sweet pup.”
“Good,” she mutters against my chest.
“Meet back here in an hour unless you find something,” Angelo snaps, unamused at my blatant show of affection for his wife. “And if you spot Remington, disable him so I can ask him some questions.”