19. Vlad
19
VLAD
" I 'm surprised to see you here," Enzo mentions, raising an eyebrow at me as he lights up a cigarette.
"Are you?" I ask, taking a seat and making myself comfortable.
Considering our previous enmity, it might seem surprising that I'm visiting Enzo right in his home. But I've recently found some tidbits of information that have changed my perception of him and our situation. The fact that he's not receiving me with a shotgun in my face just confirms what I already know—Enzo Agosti is a crafty son of a bitch.
And I have to begrudgingly admit that my respect for the man has increased.
I'd had my eyes on the Agosti business for a while now, especially since I'd heard some not-so-glamorous rumors through the grapevine. In my desperation, it had been all the impetus I'd needed to put Agosti under the magnifying glass.
And I'd used my former partner, Bianca, to do just that. In a quid pro quo exchange, she'd placed a few bugs in Enzo's office, and for months now, the insight I'd gained had helped me narrow down my options.
"Get to the point, Kuznetsov," Enzo states, looking already bored .
Ah, but when he hears what I have to say, that boredom will for sure be wiped from his face.
"So impatient. And here I was the one with ADHD," I joke, helping myself to his pack of cigarettes uninvited.
He narrows his eyes at me as I light it up, taking a full drag of the cigarette.
"I'm not in the mood for your antics, Vlad." He rolls his eyes at me, clearly hoping to see me gone soon.
"Hmm, and what antics are we talking about?" I feign ignorance.
He raises an eyebrow at me. "Really?" He shakes his head. "Shall I remind you what happened the last time we were in the same room together?" he asks, and I start chuckling.
We've had our differences over the years, and all of them started from his wife, or at least his current wife. After the initial debacle, we hadn't had many opportunities to meet. But one time at a summit, we'd once more come to blows when I'd hired a suite of strippers to make their entrance right in the middle of the meeting. I'd even sent them with the personalized message that they were for his wife, since he's not capable of satisfying her.
Enzo had been thoroughly embarrassed, just as I'd wanted, but his reaction had not been as vehement as I'd anticipated.
Now I know why...
Still, the bad blood runs deep, and I doubt this one conversation will magically fix everything. He has something I want, though, so I will bend a little.
"Come on, Agosti. Where is your sense of humor? They were top class, too. You have no idea how much they charge per hour." I look him up and down, my lips twitching. "You know, if you ever want to retire, that might be one avenue. You're not bad on the eyes. Certainly, the ladies love you..." I trail off when I see the tick in his jaw.
"I wonder if you have a death wish, Kuznetsov. I've always known you to be reckless, but not entirely suicidal."
"Ahh, Enzo, Enzo," I chuckle, "recklessness is but the desire to die without the actual courage. Maybe I just like to court death, but I'm not quite ready to meet my maker," I say, amused.
"Well, here you are," he replies drily, and I decide to get to the point lest he take out his guns on me. I'd rather not have any holes when I meet Sisi tonight.
"I want information," I tell him, my smile completely gone.
He scoffs at me, and I know I need to bring out the big guns.
"Jimenez," I start, and his attention snaps to me. "I know you've been working with him. Which means that you are currently in possession of some of his businesses."
His mask doesn't drop at my mention, but his ears sure perk up.
"What do you want?" he asks tensely. Ah, I knew Enzo was smart. If he realizes I'm aware of his extracurriculars, then he must understand I know far more than that.
"I told you. Information. I'm looking for a certain Miles, affiliated with Project Humanitas."
He turns his icy stare on me, debating for a minute what to answer.
"Come on, Agosti, it doesn't cost you a thing to help a fella out. On the other hand... it could prove very costly to someone living at Sacre Coeur." I stretch in my seat, gleefully watching as my threat sinks in.
He grits his teeth, but he gives me a brisk nod.
"I don't know anything about a Project Humanitas," he says and I'm quick to tsk at him, " but, " he continues, "there is a Miles that is known in the club scene, especially in Jimenez's territory. I don't know the guy personally, but he has multiple brokers buying for him every month."
"Marvelous," I exclaim, a wide smile on my lips, "where can I find this Miles then?"
"Like I told you, he doesn't show himself. But you can find his brokers," he continues, taking out his computer and punching some keys.
"These are the clubs I know for sure they frequent." He pushes the screen toward me and I lean in to read the list of clubs and their addresses.
"I wasn't aware Papillion was Jimenez's club." I narrow my eyes. The rest I am familiar with as I'd been to all of them in the past in my search for answers. But they are all out of state. Papillion, though, is in NYC, and widely known to be under Agosti.
"No one was," Enzo explains, "but since he wasn't welcomed in New York, he disguised the club. It was the first term I agreed to when I partnered up with him. I'd open a club in my name, and he'd have free rein over it."
"I see," I drawl, "I'm going to need access to the club."
Enzo pauses for a moment.
"I trust your discretion with..."
"You have my word."
He nods, taking out his phone and making a few calls.
"You're going as a VIP. Try not to stand out too much. I may have my name on this, but it's out of my control," he says.
"Don't you worry, Agosti. I'll be a fly on the wall." I give him a dazzling smile, and he closes his eyes, his hands going to his temples.
"That's what I'm worried about," he groans. "I'm serious, Vlad. The people who frequent those places are not people you want as enemies. It's best if you draw as little attention as possible."
"Come on, how bad can it be?" I would think it should be the other way around, since my moods are fickle at best.
He doesn't take my bait. Instead, he withdraws a USB, plugging it into his computer and programming a few things on it.
"This will give you access to the feed. You know the drill. The club is a front, the auctions are in the basement. Papillion is mostly known for immigrants," he comments, handing me the USB.
Ah, he wants to get rid of me as quickly as he can. I can only oblige as I stand up, pocketing the USB.
On my way out, however, I feel compelled to add, "A favor for a favor, Agosti. Your secret is safe with me."
I don't look back as I leave his house, realizing I need to plan my next move.
W ith a last glance at the bags of clothes I'd bought, I can only hope Sisi will like them. Since our misadventure jumping out the window had not worked so well, we'd improvised and developed a system for her to get out undetected through the staff door in the back of the house .
I've already parked my car off the main road and now I'm just waiting for her to come.
After leaving Enzo's house, I'd spent the entire day watching the feed from Papillion, making a blueprint of the place and coming up with back-up plans in case our visit might draw unwanted attention.
I'd decided to let Sisi accompany me for three reasons. One... Well, I don't want to miss a day with her. Two, she will help me blend in, and three, she will ensure I stay focused, since Vanya won't be a problem if she's there.
Why, there's just no reason not to bring her with me, especially since I trust myself to keep her safe.
"You're smiling again," Vanya points out, and I give her the eye.
"I'm not," I huff.
"Yes, you are." She crosses her hands over her chest, raising an eyebrow at me. "It's the girl, isn't it?" she asks knowingly.
"Of course not," I answer a little too fast, and she just smirks at me.
"It is the girl," she repeats, and I sigh.
"Okay, maybe it is the girl. I'm not saying it is though. I'm saying there is a possibility. " I skirt around the issue, hoping she would drop the subject.
It's not the first time Vanya's brought this up. In her own words, she's trying to make me realize my feelings for Sisi and that I should wife her up as soon as possible. I mean, technically, what she's saying isn't a bad idea.
If I were to wife her up, then she'd belong solely to me. The feelings part is a little murky since I don't think I have those—factory defect, unfortunately—but I can certainly pretend.
"I knew it!" she exclaims. "You always get that dreamy, star-struck look on your face," she adds and my mouth drops open.
"I do not!" I state vehemently, but she only tsks at me.
"You doth protest too much." She smirks at me before her form disappears into thin air. Raising my gaze, I spot Sisi running toward the car in the distance.
For a moment, I think back to Vanya's observations. I agree that maybe I am a schoolboy with a crush. But who wouldn't be? Sisi's not only incredibly attractive, but she's also witty and funny, keeping up with my fucked up sense of humor. She even approves of my less than usual morbid inclinations. If that's not a keeper, then I don't know what is.
Maybe I should wife her up.
The idea isn't so bad. Marcello might try to kill me, but at least we wouldn't be sneaking around all the time. I'd even be able to see her in daylight, a fact which has proven mightily difficult so far. You'd think us vampires with our nocturnal schedules.
But the more time I spend with her, the more I crave her. It's not nearly enough that I get her near, listening to her laughter, tasting her very essence.
"God," I groan out loud, reaching down to adjust my cock. It's a common occurrence now. I only have to think about her and I'm instantly hard. It's that simple.
Hell, the other night at the beach I'd been so crazy for her I'd come in my pants. Awkward, but I'd been able to brush it off by suggesting another dip in the water. Her smell, taste, just the feel of her pussy on my tongue had been an experience unlike any other.
And as someone who'd previously scoffed at the idea of getting that up and close to another human being, I find that now I can't get close enough.
For that, I need to do my best not to screw things up. I know I don't have too many things going for me, and that she could do a whole lot better—and more normal—but I have to show her that even with my flaws I'm the best choice.
Good thing I have strong protections on my computer, because it would be embarrassing to look through my browsing history.
What type of trained killer searches tips on how to romance a woman?
Even worse, what type of assassin spends his time on women's forums cataloguing date ideas? I'd be an embarrassment to the entire assassin community, if there even is such a thing.
Would my victims even fear me anymore if they knew I spend hours picking out women's clothes? Or that I now know there are different shades of blue? I must have memorized the entire color palette in my search for something Sisi would love.
Fucking hell !
I'm really losing it this time.
"You're here." She opens the passenger door, climbing up. She's out of breath from running toward the car, but her smile is wide on her face.
"You're here," I repeat numbly, sounding like a broken record.
Sisi doesn't waste any time and leans forward, giving me a quick kiss.
"So, what's on for tonight?" she asks excitedly, and I find myself leaving behind all my apprehensions, seeking instead to soak in her presence.
"Tonight, we go hunting," I tell her, quickly detailing my plan.
Papillion works a bit differently than the Block, another of Jimenez's most famous clubs.
As I'd combed through the footage, I'd marked a pattern. The club opens up at twelve, operating as a normal strip club until two. Then, insiders are invited to the basement to watch the entertainment of the night and bid on their favorites. Enzo hadn't been kidding when he'd said immigrants were the main attraction.
The club receives requests for different types of people from around the globe, but instead of fulfilling them in a one-time deal, they prefer to make buyers fight for the merchandise, and as such raise their profits. It's all quite ingenious, from a business standpoint, since apparently Papillion's ability to outsource any type of human is unparalleled.
I can definitely see why Miles would be a regular in such a place. Now, though, I'm curious to know what personalized requests he puts in.
Luckily, from what I'd been able to glean, the host calls out the specifications, thus putting the potential buyer on the spot and ensuring potential competition gets wind of it to drive the prices up.
The entire scheme is brilliant, and I can only imagine the type of money Papillion brings in.
Our plan is pretty straightforward. Sisi and I would go inside, hang around until called for the auction and then be on the lookout for Miles' people.
The outfits I'd gotten us should help us blend in. I'd gone specifically for a style completely unlike my usual one. That way, even if someone might know me, they would be thrown off by two things — Sisi's presence and my clothes.
"Are you serious?" Sisi arches an eyebrow at me as she finishes donning the clothes I'd gotten her.
"Damn," I whistle, admiring the view.
Okay, maybe I should have gone for more conservative.
She's wearing a pair of leather pants that accentuate her legs, the bold contour of her ass making men want to weep. Certainly, my dick approves. My head, though, not so much, since everyone else will be seeing the same thing.
For her top I'd gone for a simple black shirt, this time making sure there's no cleavage showing, since her tits are a one-way ticket to hell for anyone whose eyes stray even a little bit.
"Come on, you can't be serious," she repeats, holding out the leather cut that says Property of Berserker.
"It's cute!" I reply, turning my back and pointing to the Berserker written on mine, "We match, see?"
She shakes her head at me, but eventually relents and puts it on.
Frankly, I'd had to improvise fast and find a good disguise, especially for that type of club. So I'd gone the easy route—pretend I'm part of some made-up MC chapter named White Trash , casually strolling up into Papillion with my biker babe to buy some new humans.
Considering my entire body is full of ink, it doesn't seem entirely too farfetched that I'd be part of some nefarious gang. But most of all, it is so polar opposite from how I usually present myself that I should go unnoticed.
To match Sisi's outfit, I'm also wearing a pair of leather pants, a white tank-top and the leather cut with the club's name. If anyone will catch onto the irony of the name remains to be seen, although based on previous experiences, the jab should fall on deaf ears.
I'd also gone to great lengths to temporarily modify my Bratva tattoo, lest someone recognize that one.
"I can't believe I agreed to this," Sisi mutters under her breath.
"We need to go in undetected. Just think of it as a new adventure. When will you ever have the chance to be a biker babe again? "
"I'm not sure this is my definition of an adventure." She rolls her eyes at me, "But I'll help you."
"Great!" I say, loudly smacking her ass.
"Ouch! Why did you do that?" Her hands go to her ass as she's trying to diffuse the pain.
"Getting into character." I wink at her.
And to top it off, I'd also gotten an old Yamaha that's been gathering dust in my garage. This time when Sisi sees the motorcycle, she doesn't scoff at it. Instead, she's quite enthusiastic at the prospect of riding it.
"Wow," she breathes out as I hand her the helmet. "This is amazing."
"Are you that happy riding bitch?" I joke, and her eyes widen before I get a jab in my ribs. "Joking, joking." I hold my hands up in surrender.
She pouts and I turn to her, taking her mouth in a rough kiss, my teeth catching her lower lip as I bite it.
"Hang on tight," I say against her lips, taking her arms and wrapping them around my waist.
We reach the club just as it opens, and after I show the bouncer that I have Enzo's approval, we're invited inside and told to wait for a staff member to show us to our VIP lounge.
As we step inside the club, I note that it's nothing special. At least compared with some other places I'd seen, this is rather tame.
There are mini stages throughout, all hosting pole dancers and strippers surrounded by horny men. There are a few couches and tables in the back, all busy with men and women in different stages of fucking. From afar, it looks like a banquet worthy of Caligula himself.
"Is that?" Sisi whispers when she sees the show, and for one second I regret bringing her here. I do not want her seeing some stranger's dick.
Shielding her eyes with my hand, I divert her attention by steering her to the bar.
"Wow," she continues to say, looking around in awe. "That looks so much fun." She points toward the girls dancing on the poles. "But also hard." She frowns when she sees them do a rather complicated move.
"You need strong muscles to do that." I'm barely looking at the pole, my entire attention held by her . Her expressions are so vivid, so mesmerizing, that they have the power to make me forget myself.
"I want to try it," she replies animatedly.
"You what?"
"I want to try that. It looks so interesting," she repeats, releasing a dreamy sigh as she continues to admire the girls' moves.
Shaking my head at her, since clearly that's out of the question, I turn to the bartender and ask for two shots of vodka.
"Here." I hand her one, a little peeved that her attention is wholly on the stage. She doesn't even look at me as she takes the glass out of my hand and downs it, quickly sputtering. Her hand goes to her face as she fans herself, turning toward me with wide eyes as she's asking for help.
"Breathe," I lean in to whisper.
"It's so strong..." She barely gets the words out.
So far, I'd only offered her softer drinks like wine or champagne, wanting to ease her into the exploration of alcohol.
"Whose fault is it that you shot it down like a pro?" I tsk at her, amused. "Let me show you how it's done," I tell her, my eyes intently on her.
I take my shot glass, downing it in one go. Then, before she can react, my hand shoots out, grabbing her by the jaw, my thumb prying her lips open as I tease her with my mouth. Opening wide, I share the drink with her, licking her lips clean when I'm done.
She's quiet as her eyes rove over me, her arousal clear in the way her pupils dilate. She bites her lips slowly, a come-hither gesture that's instantly making me hard.
So focused am I on her and her seductive little games that I don't realize when another woman plops herself in front of us.
Sisi is the first to move her head, studying the woman with narrowed eyes.
"A lap dance?" the woman asks, placing her hand on my shoulder. "She can watch," she nods toward Sisi. The woman's clad only in a pair of bikini bottoms, all the goods in sight as she's no doubt trying to find clients for the evening.