Chapter 7
Stash
Eyes capable of cutting through glass.
“Iskusitel’nitsa bez dushi.”
A temptress with no soul. Wasn’t I a walking, talking paraphrase of my past tonight?
As I rose to my full height, I found myself unable to take my eyes off her, the stunning beauty staring back at me with pursed lips.
The card girl.
In the months I’d been coming to the Strike Zone, I’d purposely avoided dealing with any customers or other employees. Rarely did I find the time to talk to the club’s manager. Neither he nor the club meant anything to me except allowing me to exercise my demons.
Not exorcise, as the demonic spirits fueled the anger and need for violence, which I enjoyed. The fights allowed the creatures a feeling of satisfaction, fulfilling a hunger that would otherwise manifest itself inside my professional duties.
That couldn’t happen.
Up to this point, I’d barely noticed the girl with the long, dark hair parading around in skimpy clothes.
Why now? Why out of the blue?
I was not easily distracted by anyone, including the ridiculous patrons allowed by the Irish mob, so my sudden lack of focus after catching the card girl’s shocked gaze almost had the same effect as her witnessing the death of a contestant on stage.
I sensed her shock by her expression that even the garish glittery makeup couldn’t hide. However, she was experiencing another reaction. That’s what kept my attention for longer than it should
Excitement.
Enough that the corner of her luscious mouth twitched as a heated wave of longing swept through her. That was easy to see by the refraction of light in her eyes. I took a step closer, daring her to skitter away like most women would do.
She stood her ground, lifting her chin even higher.
Wearing what could only be described as a red playboy bunny costume, the tight squeeze was a clear indication she’d borrowed the outfit.
While the uptick in business had all but discontinued my activity inside the club over the last few weeks, she was different than the usual dark-haired girl who stood in her place.
Not just in looks, but in the way she was paying attention to every detail. If she was here, she wasn’t a threat, but she also hadn’t been adequately prepared for what she’d just seen.
She was a beauty, her long, dark curly hair framing stunning features and soft lips. Her hourglass figure and very long legs were far too enticing. With the amount of money stuffed into her garters, she’d pleased the audience.
How fascinating that I didn’t like the thought of anyone touching her.
Her eyes fell to the dead man once again and finally, the spell between us was broken.
The bouncer behind her came closer, saying something only the two of them could hear. With that, she walked quickly through the parted crowd toward the back rooms.
But not before offering one last highly salacious look.
I yanked off the tape, the only safety garb I gave a shit about, tossing it aside. The crowd was still chanting. Soon they’d be drunk and released to New York. I pitied whoever they went home to. I didn’t know any of the men allowed in the club. They weren’t my business associates.
If any of them would ever recognize me outside the ring, they wouldn’t be inclined to acknowledge it. These weren’t first timers. They’d been a part of the brutal death fight scene for long enough to realize they could be held as accomplices to a half dozen murders that I’d committed alone.
I didn’t talk about my extracurricular activities.
What I did after hours was nobody’s business but mine.
What had started out as a favor done for our new Irish…
partners had also allowed an in with the Irish mob, able to keep an eye on their activities.
Betrayal was expected, but if they were that stupid, they’d learn a valuable lesson.
Any treachery against the Bratva would never have decent results.
After that, I’d been hooked on the rush of adrenaline followed by a period of calm the fights allowed. Plus, I was damn good at what I did.
As I climbed from the ring, I noticed Sean McCarthy had graced the club with his presence.
Unusual unless the man facing punishment was someone of importance.
Normally I couldn’t care less who was on the receiving end of my controlled brutality, but with my cousin’s earlier concerns, I was curious if the two were connected.
I was handed a towel and a bottle of water almost immediately, which were the only two requirements I’d ever requested. This wasn’t a bar I’d waste either my money or time in. And they didn’t serve the type of liquor I demanded.
Power.
There wasn’t a man or woman alive who didn’t covet supremacy or dominance in at least one aspect of their life. If they told you otherwise, they were lying. I included myself in the same category, which I compartmentalized along with every other aspect of my life.
Whether the hotel business or our weapons trade, both had a separate class in my mind and on paper. Violence did as well, the fights only one aspect of how betrayal was handled. Then there was sex. Handled with an entirely different set of rules and responsibilities.
Which was why I never allowed myself to get involved.
My selfish ways precluded allowing anyone into my life.
My bed was a different story.
As I headed toward where Sean had taken up his usual roost, my thoughts drifted to the raven-haired beauty. Another category formed. Someone who I could fuck without second guessing, which was what I’d done with the only other woman who’d sparked my interest.
How ironic that two women in one day had my balls heavy and anguished.
“Another brilliant fight,” Sean said with his glass lifted as a toast.
“Far too easy. I’d prefer a challenge for a change.”
His laugh reminded me of my birth father’s, who I’d barely gotten to know before his murder. “I’ll talk to Patrick. We’ll see if we can secure some fresh meat more to your liking.”
“Is there a reason you’re in the audience tonight?”
“Always to the point. There is a possible war brewing. Walk with me.”
I did, falling in beside him. Whatever was on his mind troubled him greatly.
Much like I’d seen in my cousin.
“You’re the second person who’s been worried about that very subject.” I wiped my face while scanning the crowd. They were even more agitated than normal.
“Your cousin being the first?”
“So it is true. There’s an issue with the Armenians.”
He nodded while doing the same thing I was doing, searching the guests just before we disappeared into the corridor, his men falling in behind us. Now that we were out of the main room and the fights were over, the impenetrable steel door was closed and locked.
No one was getting through that door.
We headed down the stairs, the location as secure as a bomb shelter.
I didn’t like the Irish patriarch, but he wasn’t a stupid man and his instincts were decent. Plus, as uncle to Kirill’s wife, he was practically family. Right…
“They have been a thorn in our side long before even your uncle stepped foot in New York. However, their skirmishes were weak and without organization up to this point. Easily crushed.”
Dimitri’s father, a man I’d never met, had broken away from his close ties with Vladimir Chertov, my birth father. They’d disagreed on how to handle business and instead of one killing the other, Dimitri was uprooted and had finished his formative years in the Big Apple.
Now we were one big happy family.
With extensions.
“Should I assume they’ve built a stronger presence and are eager to test their new power?”
“An excellent way of putting it. They are an interesting clan, electing their leader instead of following any birthright protocol.”
“I didn’t know they had a new leader.” Now my cousin’s concerns held more merit than before. At this point, I’d act as if I didn’t know. Usually, I could garner more information that way.
His eyes slanted in my direction, locking onto mine.
“They are about to. Vardan Zargarian is young, hungry, and some say unstoppable. He’s also an excellent businessman, already amassing a fortune from his expertise in trading stocks.
Imagine, a stockbroker becoming a mafia leader.
He’s a recent implant from Chicago, some say recruited for his connections and his…
let’s just say proclivities.” He moved to a small office he kept on the premises, moving inside.
There was barely room enough for his desk and chair along with another on the other side.
One thing I did admire about him was his disregard for luxuries.
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning he’s called the Butcher. Or at least he was before coming to the United States in his mid-twenties. Once here, he’s been squeaky clean and has deep pockets and powerful friends from the Midwest up and down the East Coast.”
“An interesting premise. You’re suggesting he’s eager to take a larger portion of the pie.”
“I am and having a businessman as a leader is the wave of the future, my friend,” he countered.
“The old guard once condemned computers, saying they would lead to easier detection by the FBI. Now we rely on them for everything from hacking into our enemies’ systems to keeping our bank records on the up and up.
Let alone internet banking, something else that we once thought ridiculous.
Cash in hand was the only way to go. Credit cards were stretching it. ”
We both chuckled because he was right.
“Then there were legitimate companies being added, money made on the up and up. Pens competed with weapons. The diamond industry instead of cocaine. Whiskey instead of heroin. It’s a mad world, son.
” He moved behind his desk, sitting down.
“I’m not getting any younger. I’ll need to select a successor soon.
Who knows. Maybe my niece’s husband.” He grinned, expecting a response.
Russians and Irish rarely mixed, Kirill and the love of his life notwithstanding. He was also fishing for information just like I was.