“Am celebrating, not working,” Alexei grumbled.
“You can multitask. Let’s go. Jamie?”
Katie perched on the edge of her seat, looking at him with an expectant expression on her face, perfectly playing the businesswoman not wanting to waste an opportunity for networking. But she wasn’t going to do anything without his say-so, revealing to their audience where the real power lay within their group. Jamie made a show of turning to look at Kyle, who was sprawled out beside him, one foot propped up on the table, fiddling with the face of the Rolex on Jamie’s right wrist.
“Apparently Katie wants me to work,” he said.
“I’d let you work me, but I don’t think that’d make Katie happy,” Kyle drawled.
Jamie didn’t have to fake the desire that filled his gaze at that statement. “Later.”
“Promise?”
“If you’re good.”
Kyle smiled, slow and wicked, letting his bent leg tip to the side, putting himself on display. “Oh, I can be good.”
“Christ, mate,” Liam said, loud enough for Jamie to hear. “You can shag your man later. Save us from Katie’s murder eyes first.”
Jamie wrenched his gaze away from Kyle, expression smoothing out as he looked at Katie. “Fine. We’ll meet the owner of this place if it will make you happy.”
“Immensely,” Katie replied dryly as she stood, sparkly clutch in hand. “Thank you.”
Jamie got to his feet before holding his hand out to Kyle, who took it without hesitation. Jamie hauled him up, keeping a firm grip as they made their way out of the alcove. As they approached where Zara stood, Jamie let go of Kyle’s hand to slide his own over Kyle’s ass in a proprietary manner.
“My associate says meeting your boss won’t be a waste of her time,” Jamie said in a bored voice. “Let’s see if that’s true.”
Anger snapped in Zara’s dark eyes, but she knew better than to argue with him. “I can assure you, Mr. Callahan, that Mr. Jansen will be worth your time.”
Jamie smiled coolly. “Very little is worth my time.”
Zara’s gaze flicked briefly to where Kyle was tucked against his side, a bored expression on his face. Whatever assumption she made about them would be exactly what they wanted her to think. Turning on her heels, she led the way through a crowd of people pretending not to watch their every move.
The third level of Vesuvius was practically empty compared to the other two. A plas-glass wall embedded with sound dampeners enclosed the sleek space, the music and noise from the dance floor and second level barely discernible as they crested the stairs. The level stretched along one side of the building rather than wrapping completely around like the level below did. The limited amount of space gave the appearance of importance to those who lounged around its intimate setting.
Zara led them to a cluster of couches and chairs close to the middle of the level and overlooking the club. Trevor and Madison broke away to join a group of people in clothes that screamed bodyguard at a different table close by. Jamie took in the men and women gathered at the main table, memorizing faces in a single quick glance. One of the men threw back his head and laughed at something someone said before he turned and smiled in Jamie’s direction, hazel eyes more brown than green in the low lighting.
“Jamie Callahan,” Nikolaas Jansen said. “It is quite a pleasure to make the acquaintance of a man of your status.”
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 awhile.”
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 press
ed 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.”
For his part, Kyle said nothing, merely looked at Jamie with such a blatant, sexually charged expression on his face that everyone around the table knew exactly what he’d rather be doing right then, and it definitely wasn’t continuing an impromptu business meeting.
Oksana set her shot glass down on the table with a quiet clink. “You are a very interesting man, Mr. Callahan. I’ll let Niko give you my information. He’ll be in touch within the week. Da svidanya.”
Oksana stood up. The two men with her, very obviously her bodyguards and not anything else, rose to escort her away from their area and toward the stairs. Jamie didn’t watch her leave. The only people left around the table were those who’d come with him and Niko, who seemed far less friendly and more focused than when they’d first been introduced.
“Interesting is one way of putting it,” Niko finally said, forcing a smile as he slipped his tablet out of his inner suit jacket pocket. “Let me know how to reach you. I’ll handle communications between you and Oksana if she contacts me.”
Katie moved to swipe her wrist over the screen, letting his system read the manufactured identity the MDF had authorized and uploaded into her RealIdent chip.
“We’re leaving,” Jamie said, getting to his feet.
Niko never took his eyes off Jamie. “So soon? Really, you should stay. I’m sure Vesuvius can accommodate the discerning tastes of a man such as yourself.”
Katie’s quiet fury never left his mind as Kyle stood up and slipped his hand into Jamie’s, rising on the balls of his feet. He pressed his mouth to Jamie’s and kissed Jamie so thoroughly, with such promise in his lips, it nearly left him breathless. Kyle finally broke the kiss and smirked lazily over his shoulder at Niko as Jamie slid a hand down his back to grope his ass.
“I don’t share,” Jamie said before taking Kyle by the hand and leading him away.
Trevor and Madison immediately joined them, escorting the group all back down to the ground level and out the front door of the club. The cool winter air hit like a smack to the face and Jamie breathed it in sharply, letting it clear his head. Donovan and Annabelle had the SUVs already at the curb, engines running hot. They split up, with Jamie gladly slamming the door shut on the prying cameras of the paparazzi.
“Drive,” he ordered as they all buckled up.
“What happened?” Donovan asked as he pulled into the street and drove off at a speed slightly above legal.
“I’m not sure. It was a mess in the beginning, but I think we hooked their interest,” Jamie said.
“That did not go remotely how I thought it would,” Liam said from up front. “Didn’t think you lot had any interest in the Reborn IRA.”
“We don’t. Seems like Sean did in his old position. ”
“Would’ve been helpful to know that before the mission started,” Kyle said.
“Can you get your superiors to send me a file on the Reborn IRA tonight?” Jamie asked Liam.
Liam nodded. “C
an do.”
“Debriefing sounds like it’s going to be a headache,” Donovan replied as he sped up a little to catch the green light ahead.
“I hope there’s still coffee left,” Kyle said.
“We should probably let Annabelle at it first. You know she’s still pissed about—brace!”
The warning, barked out with battlefield loudness, barely came in time. The car speeding through the intersection at the cross street rammed into the side of the SUV with a crunch of metal and glass. The force of the impact sent the SUV skidding through the intersection in a sharp spin and into the path of other cars that swerved desperately out of the way.
Jamie felt it in his stomach when the SUV started to tilt, the top-heavy design incapable of fighting against gravity. The horizon through the front windshield did a sickening 180 as they rolled, the world turning upside down. Sparks streaked through the air as the SUV scraped over the asphalt to a body-jerking halt that had less to do with hitting something else than it did from something grabbing hold of the entire vehicle.
As sudden as the hit was, the impact did less damage than if they’d been in a civilian vehicle. The SUVs the UMG had loaned them for this mission were military-grade and built to withstand hits like the one they’d just survived. The doors on the impact side were warped and punched inward, the shatter-resistant plas-glass holding together through a spider-web of cracks.
“Status!” Jamie barked out as he ripped his seat belt off the wall and seat, bracing himself against the roof below him with his other hand to control his fall onto it.
“Clear!” Liam responded immediately.
“Clear!” Kyle said, already cutting himself out of his seat belt with a ceramic knife that looked like Alexei’s twin.
“Fucking—” Donovan coughed harshly. “How many airbags does one of these goddamn vehicles need? Clear, goddamn it!”
Donovan was covered in fine white dust that stood out starkly against his dark skin. Two air bags had deployed upon impact: one in the steering wheel and another in the door frame itself. Jamie would’ve responded, except the thunderous sound of fully-automatic rifles going off had almost everyone reflexively ducking. Donovan was still stuck behind the steering wheel and swearing up a storm.
In the Ruins (Metahuman Files Book 2) Page 13
