by james
barstool. Methodically, he glanced over the occupants below.
And there she was, leaning against the wall, taking another sip of the drink, but
the amount of pink confection stayed the same.
Nice front, love, but you need to actually drink a bit.
Her eyes rose to the windows and again, their light stare caught him off guard.
“I can’t believe I’m asking you this,” Viktor said for the third time
Dimitri sighed, kept his hands loosely at his sides. “Who? It’s a name, Viktor, just
a name.”Viktor’s dark blasphemy made him turn from his study of the mysterious woman
below and study his boss. Viktor was pale, dark circles under his eyes, eyes normally as
cold and unfeeling as the devil’s heart. But now, they were worried, creased. The man sat
on the couch and leaned up on his knees. Dimitri merely waited, knowing there was no
rushing his boss.
Viktor’s shoulders rose and fell as he clasped and unclasped his hands. In a low
voice, he said, “Elianya. I need.…”
Dimitri’s eyes slid closed. Taking a deep breath, he said quietly, “I understand.”
Viktor’s head whipped up, sharp and predatory, his slanted eyes as threatening as
a wolf’s. “No, you don’t. She’s….. She’s not.… I thought as she grew older.” Viktor
thumped his fist on this thigh and stood. “Damn it all. What I do is one thing. Business is
business, but Elianya...” He shook his head and raked a hand over his queued hair.
“Children, now, Dimitri. The stupid bitch will be the death of me. She’s pimping out
children and God only knows what else.”
For a moment, Dimitri could only stare at the man who, if he was ordered, he’d
have to kill. Viktor Hellinski wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination a nice man, but
even the crime boss, apparently had his limits.
“I heard she was opening up negotiations behind my back to the American bosses
as well.”
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“The deal you nixed last December?” Dimitri asked.
Viktor nodded and paced. Dimitri waited.
“Stupid. So damn stupid. I knew something was wrong with her. Even the doctors
she saw as a child warned me she was dangerous, but I never wanted to.…” Viktor looked
at him, his face stamped with pain “I thought I could help her.”
The woman had been raised in a world where vice and crime were a normal
means, brutal as it was and she learned she liked the nice things that benefited her from
others’ pain. Of course other crime bosses were married, had sisters or daughters and
Dimitri had never met anyone as wicked and depraved as Elianya. No matter her
upbringing, something was twisted within her.
Dimitri shrugged and decided to be honest. “I’ve never cared for your sister.”
Viktor glared at him. “You liked her enough to fuck her.”
He didn’t deny it. “Some things one learns one can live without. No man needs a
blowjob that badly.”
“You think I don’t know that? She asked me to have you castrated when you
turned her down and told her to leave your apartments.”
Dimitri almost crossed his legs. “Thank you for not following through on that
request.”Viktor shook his head. “Children, Dimitri. Interpol will be all the fuck over us.
You take care of this. Clean it up. Her photographer called me. Leos. He is a good man. I
don’t want him hurt.” Those slanted, amber eyes pierced him again. “I mean it. The man
is decent and talented and I can use him.”
Dimitri shuffled through his memory of Elianya’s entourage and clicked on the
neatly trimmed man with the pony tail. Quiet, but temperamental, always behind a camera
or computer. New age porn producer….
“They are to meet tomorrow night for a session. I will find out where, and tell you.
I want her.…” He fisted his hands. “Just clean it up. I can’t… I won’t.” Viktor raked his
hands over his head, and a long blond strand fell to his shoulder. “I know some of the
girls here are young, but damn it. I’m not a child molester for Christ’s sake.”
That might be debatable, but Dimitri didn’t think Viktor wanted his opinion on
the semantics of law and minors.
“Give me your word, Dimitri. Give it to me in blood that you’ll handle this
matter.”
Shit.
Dimitri straightened from his perch against the desk, grabbed the wicked sharp
letter opener off of Viktor’s desk and pricked his finger. “I swear to you, Viktor, I will
take care of the matter.” He wiped the knife off on his pants leg, tossed it on the desk,
then smeared his blood on Viktor’s palm. “Contact me with a location.”
“I should just let you take her out tonight, but I can’t find her. “
“Do you want her found tonight?” Dimitri asked.
Christ, kids. Why was it, just when he thought he was deep enough in the filth of
society he realized he could still sink deeper?
Viktor stood at the windows and waved him away. “I don’t care what you do. Or
when. I just want it done. And.…” His shoulders rose on an inhale. “Make it fast, clean.”
Viktor’s back was to him and Dimitri didn’t know if he should pity the man or
DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 29
admire him. No way could he sanction the death of one of his siblings, but then his
brothers were more white bread and butter than seedy underworld negotiators.
“Yes sir.” Dimitri turned and walked out of the office, his nose tingling with
regular cigarette smoked laced with the sweet tang of hash.
Grow up in a world of drugs, prostitution, and kills and what the hell did Hellinski
expect?
Time to contact Johnno. And he still had find out who the hell the woman was
downstairs.
Kids. Nausea twisted his stomach.
DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 30
CHAPTER FOUR
11:16 p.m.
Raven watched the man leave the club. Carefully, she walked out behind him,
weaving through the dancing people. One girl in a sequined top, slammed into her and
Raven tried not to throw the clearly drunk girl away. Instead, keeping her eyes on Dimitri,
she turned the girl around and gave her a small push towards the dance floor.
Her eyes stung from the smoke and she had the impression her pulse matched the
beat of the music pumping through the air. Dead good time everyone seemed to be having
though.
At the doorway, Ivan asked, “Leaving so soon, babe?”
She only flashed him a smile and pointed to her mark. Dressed in dark clothing, a
long black overcoat, he looked the part of a crime boss’s hitman.
“Do you know him?”
Ivan’s eyes widened as he watched Dimitri Petrolov stop by his car. Without
warning he said loudly, “Mr. Petrolov! This fine lady here wants to know who you are.”
The man paused and pierced her with eyes, a wicked blue, dark from here, but
maybe cobalt? She wasn’t certain. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he studied her and
those eyes narrowed. Squinting slightly at the edges. His hair was a bit on the long side
and his features appeared even more unforgiving than they had in the photograph she had
of him. Her heart did a slow flip. He put his arm up on top of the car and continued to
study her, one long languid gaze down her b
ody and then back up to her eyes. One dark
eyebrow cocked.
She notched her chin up and stepped closer.
His smile could coax angels to sin. “Does she?” As could his voice, gruff and
deep as if he smoked. He opened his door and gave her wink. “It seems you just informed
her, Ivan.”
With that, the man climbed into his sporty BMW and sat for a few moments
before the engine purred to life.
She stood there and watched the car. To go back to the hotel or….
She turned to Ivan. “Where does Mr. Petrolov live?”
Ivan’s eyes widened. Then his face creased in that same gap-toothed crooked
smile he’d given her earlier. “You do not want to go to that man’s place.” He nodded.
“Trust me.”
She only raised a brow.
“Really, he’s not a nice man. You don’t cross him. No one cross him.”
“His place?”
Ivan’s eyes narrowed on her. Then he shrugged. “First off, I don’t know. I don’t
even know if the boss knows.” He shook his head. “But even if I did, I’d never tell
anyone. I value my life way too the hell much to spread that sort of information. Even to a
pretty little thing like you, yes.” His gaze ran over her. “Now, you staying out here or
DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 31
going back in? I must know, people want in, lady.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Let ‘em in, Ivan. I believe I’ll go back to my
hotel.”
Ivan’s smile was one that would probably give children nightmares. “Where’s
your place?” He nodded to the black car that pulled away from the curb when the traffic
let up. “Mr. Petrolov might call back and ask for it. “
She gave him her own chilling smile and hailed a cab. Turning she said, “Nice try,
Ivan, but I’m not that big an idiot.” She hurried to the cab and climbed in.
“Can you follow that black BMW in front of us? But discreetly. Stay at least three
cars behind.” She flashed several extra koruna at him.
The cabbie stared at her for a moment, then nodded as he jerked away from the
curb and cut off an oncoming car.
One thing was certain. Mr. Dimitri Petrolov was a…. A…. Bloody hell. He was
dangerous. So was she taking him out? Or not?
That was the question. She kept thinking of him putting his arm on top of the car.
What about… Something had been in his hand.… What?
Bugger it.
The data bases had yielded nothing on one Dimitri Petrolov, which she knew was
just impossible. No one just appeared on the scene a grown man. She wondered if he’d
ever been finger printed. A facial scan? She’d have wait on that.
Chewing on her thumb nail she wondered…
The car tuned left and her driver did as well. As they waited on traffic, she looked
down the street and saw Dimitri’s car was also waiting in the jam.
What was she doing? She’d probably turn the job down, so why was she
following him? Well, if she took the job, or needed to know more information on the
man, then she had it.
They made several more turns and she realized they were heading into a quieter
part of town. Bloody great, he’d probably make them. The traffic would thin and then
what?
She watched as he turned down another street, and told the driver to keep going
straight. She glanced down the street he’d taken. His taillights came on as he braked.
There was a building at the end of the street. She’d come back later. As the driver went
passed, she gave him the address to her hotel and watched the Prague nightlife blur by
outside.
* * * *
Dimitri drove through the streets without thought. He quickly dialed John.
“What?” John asked without preamble.
“Got a computer?”
“Does Britain still have a queen?”
“I’m sending you a photo.” He blared his horn as he swerved around a car parked
in the middle of the damn road.
“Of?”
“If I knew that I wouldn’t be sending it to you. A woman I saw tonight in Nero’s
and then she followed me out. I want an ID.”
“I’m on it.”
DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 32
Silence stretched between them.
“Fuck it,” he muttered. “Call me back in twenty. We need to discuss something.”
With that he hung up. Taking a deep breath and maneuvering through the late
night traffic he wondered how he’d gotten caught up in all this shit. He came from a
world of privilege, and though he knew his family knew of heartache and suffering …
they had no idea how twisted things could truly become. How depraved some were.
He wished he didn’t know.
He was tired. He hadn’t been this tired since Green Hell. Twenty days with little
sleep, long treks in the jungle, pouring rain, rationed food and evasion tactics. And for
whatever reason, since then, everything since, he’d always reminded himself he could
have been back in that jungle with the boys wishing for the end of the damn training. It
wasn’t so much the training itself as the unknown. The mind games.
But here he was a world away and he’d almost trade places with one of those new
Ranger recruits to be able to get out of this hell. God, how long had it been? He was too
tired to think. He hadn’t lasted too long with the Rangers. After a couple of missions
brought him to the attention of a certain man, he retired and went to work for a different
division of the government. And here he was. Still on missions, still evading. One jungle
for another.
He shook off the thoughts and paid attention to the world around him.
October in Prague was quiet, the festival was already over, though the atmosphere
of celebration still hung in the air as surely as the independence banners and posters
reminding all of freedom.
Freedom. Was one ever truly free? He sure as hell wasn’t. Half the people he dealt
with weren’t. He wondered vaguely when he’d become so cynical, so jaded? At the
warehouse, he checked the mirrors again to ascertain he wasn’t being tagged. He watched
a cab continue on straight and felt a prickle along his neck. There had been two cabs that
had followed him for a while, then again, maybe they weren’t following him at all.
Paranoia was not always healthy, even if it did keep him alive.
He pushed the button and a door moved aside. He drove his car inside.
Automatically reaching for his gun as he saw the man leaning against his other car.
John.
Well, hell.
He cut the engine and climbed out.
“Who’s your target?” John asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his ankles
crossed as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Dimitri knew better. John could sit for hours seemingly carefree and at ease and
all the while devising ways to eliminate a target, carryout a mission or simply coming up
with an idea for a new lure. John Brasher was a man of many talents.
“We need to talk,” he said, walking past John and pulling his pack of cigarettes
out.
“Fuck.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
Once inside, he locked the door and ran a quick bug check. Switching on a
portable jammer, he looked at his friend, and said, “I’m so sick of this game,
Johnno.”
John’s brown eyes narrowed. “We all are.”
DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 33
Dimitri shook off the thoughts and took a deep drag.
“Those will eventually kill you.”
“If I die of lung cancer later in life, I’ll count my blessings that it wasn’t a bullet in
some God forsaken jungle, desert, prison, or brothel.”
“You left out back street alley.”
“That too.”
“Quit buggering around, and just say it straight, Ian.” John walked to the window
and looked out.
Ian--Dimitri--who the hell was he anymore? He watched his friend and couldn’t
imagine the hell John had gone through. Actually, he could. He’d seen it. Had picked
John up and beat the shit out of him when he’d threatened suicide. But then, Ian couldn’t
really blame the man either.
Watching the man he loved as much as his brothers, he said, “Elianya Hellinski.”
John, dressed in jeans and a dark blue sweater, barely nodded. Neither spoke for a
long while. Dimitri finished his cigarette and stabbed the butt out in the ashtray. He sat in
his chair, his temple on his fist as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair.
John’s shoulders were tight, the muscle in his jaw jumping and the pulse in his
temple pounding. Sighing, Dimitri said, “I won’t take this from you.”
Slowly, John turned to him, his dark eyes black with memories. “No, you won’t.”
He remembered three years ago when he and John had worked together for
Hellinski. They’d worked together before and their bosses apparently liked the way things
went between them They managed to keep things smooth without causing too much undo
problems between their governments over petty issues of agents not working together
when they were effectively on the same team. It wasn’t a surprise to either of them when
they learned they were assigned this operation. John had been higher up in the ranks, Ian
coming in later from a stint in arm trafficking in Canada. John, straight as they came, also
rejected Elianya, but she’d turned on him. When John returned to London on business--
which was technically a leave so he could see his family--Elianya had somehow followed.
They never knew since she’d been in Prague the whole time and no passports had her
