Josslyn sits with ease and gets herself situated. Her clean fragrance filters with the salty ocean air, causing me to grip the door to contain myself from ripping her dress off and fucking her under the awning of the hotel.
I lean in, soaking in her intoxicating scent, and then whisper, “I will be right behind you.”
I place a small kiss on her cheek then look deeply into her eyes. She’s about to be sent into the lion’s den with several ravenous beasts ready to rip her apart.
Her breath hitches when I lift her chin and place a small, delicate kiss to her lips. If, for any reason, tonight goes completely astray, I want to know what it’s like to feel those lips pressed to mine … one last time.
She lifts her palm and places it on my cheek, and I fall into her Caribbean blue eyes and see the beauty within. Then she grazes her thumb over my lips, swiping the red from them, and nods her head.
I step back and close the door and watch as the Mercedes pulls around my parked car and eases into traffic.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Josslyn
August 12, 2015 10:27 p.m.
The heated ripple in my system amplifies when we pull away from Nikolai. I look out the window and take in everything about him before I can’t see him again. He is as dashing as ever in his black suit. His dark hair glistens under the light of the hotel awning, but it’s his eyes that rip me to shreds.
He knows what I’m about to do is dangerous, and it could get me killed. This is my test. If I can’t infiltrate Vlad’s lair, then there is no way I will be able to get to the main man. I have no idea who he is yet, but I do know, if this man is so heavily guarded, then the boss must be protected even more.
We don’t even make it a city block before his voice is in my ear.
“Amelia, can you hear this?” My shoulders jump from the sound of his quiet, deep tone.
“Amelia?” I question.
“Until the job is done, you will be addressed as Amelia. It’s crucial you remain in character the entire evening.”
“In character?” I whisper and cautiously glance at the driver. What in the world is he talking about, and why the hell didn’t we discuss this before leaving the hotel?
“Yes, you have to assume the role of your new identity. On the way, think of a back story. Nothing too flashy or tragic, something that is believable and easy for you to remember.”
“What’s yours?” Maybe I can adopt his and play off it a little bit. Then, if I have problems, he can feed me the information in my ear.
“There’s no time for that. Get your mind in the game and start thinking of something. I won’t speak to you until we are closer to the restaurant.”
I look out the window, watching the night life in Nob Hill. The traffic is slow as we get near Chinatown, but the view is breathtaking. For a moment, I want to take some time to explore the area, but I’m not here for a casual visit. I’m here to get information on the man who killed my father.
I clear my head and think of my fake identity. Closing my eyes, I flip through the lives of people who were once close to me. I think of Gabe and how sick with worry he probably is right now. I can see him hunched over his desk, eyes darkened with tired circles and disgust. My own eyes start to glisten when I think of him.
I shake my head and remove that thought. I’m no longer that girl. I’m Amelia Night. And who is Amelia Night?
I go back to my past, back when I was my happiest, and think of my friends. I was really close to my childhood friend, Holly. She and I were inseparable during grade school before she moved to Massachusetts. I remember how jealous I was of all her stuff. Then I start to really think about her life. She was an only child, like me. Her mother was a teacher and her father was a college professor at New York University, teaching ethics or economics—I really don’t remember. But what I do remember is they moved because he got a better job teaching at the University of Massachusetts.
My parents let me stay with her for a week the summer after fifth grade, and I remember how grand her house was. It was newer with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, an eat-in kitchen, and a family room. A typically family home by today’s standards, but to me it was a mansion. She had a huge yard lined with trees, and she was able to ride her bike down the entire street and back. In Brooklyn, that was never an option.
I lived in a small, two bedroom apartment. I rode a bike, but it was in a busy park with many other people. Her parents didn’t need to watch us as we pedaled down the street or played tag with the neighborhood kids.
I just remember how happy I was when I was there. Her mother was very sweet. She took us shopping and to the movies. Her father was funny and not afraid to joke around. He was the opposite of my dad, who was always so serious and stressed. I felt so much love in that house.
After I spent a week with Holly, I was certain, if we moved there, our family could be that happy. In my eleven-year-old mind, I was sure my parents would up and move. I remember pleading with my mom that we could live right next door. Of course, my dad wouldn’t hear of word of it. Brooklyn born and raised, and that’s where he would raise his daughter. Regardless, I felt my mother wanted the small town living for us. She lit up when I told her how much I loved being there.
After my father was murdered and the case was at a standstill, she took us to a quiet, small town that was clear across the country. But I was different by then. I was full of hate and rage, and she was trying to fix me, but all she did was suppress the need to take down criminals. Little did she know that Blythe Harbor would become a cesspool for the criminally competent, and I would be able to feed my need … until the day I met Nikolai Petrov. Then arresting criminals was no longer satisfying.
As I look out the window once more, I realize I’m right where I’m supposed to be. The joyful Josslyn is a distant memory, and Amelia Night is assuming her role.
The overhang of the restaurant is lit up with a muted red light. The block lettering on the sign reads: “Ura.” I wonder what that means.
The driver slows to a stop, and Nikolai is once again in my ear.
“Take a deep breath.”
I do as he commands and suck in the cool air then expel it.
“You can do this, Amelia. I will provide you information as needed. First things first, I want you to find a quiet place to sit at the bar. I will do my best to get eyes on the inside, but you will need to provide me details without looking obvious.”
“What if I need you? How will you know?” My voice is squeaky with traces of panic.
“If you need me for any reason, I will know. Remember, I’m listening.”
“Will you come in?”
“Not until you get Vlad alone. They know what I look like, and they are on the lookout for me. You are on your own until then.” He releases a breath of air, and I wonder if he feels as nervous as me. You can’t tell by his voice—it’s cool and calm.
The driver opens the door, and the rush of night air falls in. I take ahold of his hand and step from the car then smile to him and pull a twenty out of my clutch. Before I left, I made sure the only thing in my handbag was money, lipstick, a small leather holder for my identification, and a condom. Random, yes, but I felt it was essential to have one. I asked the stylists if they had any and one surprisingly did. I thought it would be a good touch if my clutch was searched. And according to Nikolai, it will be.
When I walk to the door, a man wearing a black blazer opens it. His wrist is decorated with a fine watch and his fingers are tattooed similar to Nikolai’s, but I refuse to take the time to study them. I know what they represent, and I’m aware of whom he serves.
When I step through the door, I’m in awe of the restaurant. It has a cavernous feel to it with a taupe sandstone finish to the walls, arched doorways, and muted yellow lighting. To the right is the dining room where rows of red leather booths are filled with diners. Each table is donned with white linens covering the wood, a small candle, rolled silverware, and wine glasses. It is very elegant,
dim, and warm. Nothing is on the walls. It’s very womb-like and very beautiful.
I tell the host I would like a seat at the bar and she leads me to the left. We walk through the arched doorway and head into another cave-like room, similar to a wine cellar. The bar curves along the back wall where a bartender is mixing a drink. As he turns, he pulls a bottle of vodka from the shelves tucked into the recesses above him. The vodka is accompanied by hundreds of other brands of liquor, all lined up perfectly and all sitting on a lighted shelf.
I walk to the far end and find a seat away from the other patrons. I set my clutch on the counter and wait for the bartender to take my order, looking around for a moment and seeing a man dressed all in black standing in the corner opposite me. He has an earpiece in his ear and a bulge under his jacket.
“What can I get you, ma’am?”
My shoulders jump as a chill passes over my skin. The air is frigid in this damn place.
“Sorry, you startled me,” I apologize with a quiet, coy voice. “I will have …” My mind goes blank. What the hell would a rich, classy woman drink that I can?
I shuffle through a variety of drinks, but my mind can’t land on one.
I’m on the verge of panicking when Nikolai barks in my ear, “Martini.”
“Martini,” I say with wavering confidence.
“Very well, ma’am. Wet or dry?” The bartender’s face is charming and sweet, fingers tattoo free.
“Excuse me?” I ask, not understanding. Aren’t all drinks wet?
“Wet or dry?”
“Dry!” Nikolai quietly shouts in my ear. I can picture his jaw grinding from my inept ability to order a drink.
“I will have it dry, thank you,” I calmly say and flash the bartender a pleasant smile.
As he scoots away to make my drink, I resume looking around the room for the security men. So far, the only ones I have seen are the man outside, opening the door for patrons, and the man standing in the corner. I don’t know about the other side of the room. Should I scope it out? Would it be obvious that I’m checking out the place?
The bartender walks back, placing my drink in front of me, and I pass him a fifty, telling him to keep the change.
“I can see you have no problem spending my money,” Nikolai says in my ear, and I can’t keep the smile on my face.
I look around to make sure no one is watching me then say back, “I’m glad you stuffed it in my purse before we left.”
“Look around for security cameras. Do you see any?”
My eyes scan the bar above me, and I find two small, black globes mounted to the ceiling. I give a brief “mmhmm” sound, quiet enough for Nikolai to hear.
“Good. Are there guards similar to the one at the door?”
Again I answer with a quiet hum.
“Quietly chime your fingernail on your glass for how many you’ve seen.”
I twist the stem of my martini glass then tap my nail against the bell of it once.
“One. Good.”
I’m about to excuse myself to the bathroom so I can have an actual conversation with him when a man approaches me from nowhere. He is tall with a stocky build and a weathered face. His eyes are a bright blue that shines as much as his totally shaven head.
I sit up straighter and smile at the man.
He looks down at me and asks, “Are you waiting for someone, miss?” His voice is heavy with a Russian accent.
I look over his shoulder then back at him. “Do you have the time?”
“Of course.” He lifts his wrist and holds his gold watch up. “It’s nearing eleven.”
“Well, then the answer to your question is no; I’m not waiting for someone. Not anymore.” I try to give off the best pouty look I can without appearing weak.
“That’s his loss, then, isn’t it? Because I haven’t seen a more beautiful woman grace the presence of this establishment in a very long time.”
I can hear Nikolai huff in my ear. Again, I picture his agitation. The sight makes me smile, making the man next to me think I’m smiling at him.
“Thank you. It appears he’s always doing this to me, though.” I touch his arm and continue, “Some men don’t know how to treat a lady.”
“I couldn’t agree more, kukla.”
“Kukla? That’s beautiful. What does it mean?” I ask, batting my eyelashes slightly.
“It’s Russian for doll.” His voice oozes sex. I feel a little intrigued by him. “And you are the prettiest looking doll in this place.”
I want to gag from the horrible pick-up line, but I swallow it down and keep a smile plastered on my face.
The bartender walks over to us, and then the men immediately begin speaking Russian to each other. I take the time to sip my drink, which tastes horrible, and observe the man sitting next to me. He, too, has tattoos on his hands. The biggest one is a skull similar to Nikolai’s. I look up at him and notice he does not have the ear piece in his ear, but the bulge under his coat shows he’s carrying. I look off in the distance while the men continue on. The curious stranger has a baritone, authoritative voice that barely elevates.
“It’s hard to understand what they’re saying. Lean in closer to him.”
Knowing the microphone is located on the clasp of my necklace, I rotate on the bar stool and pretend to be engrossed with something in my purse. Then I lean back slightly so Nikolai can hear more clearly.
I keep my body still as I pull out my lipstick. The quiet hum of Nikolai’s car reverberates through my ear, and I can tell he’s moving. I don’t know where he is, but I do know he’s somewhere nearby. Well, I hope so, anyway.
“Josslyn, listen to me very carefully, but do not make a sound.” My heart lurches into my throat. His tone is very low, very calm yet very cautious. “The man sitting next to you, does he have a skull tattoo similar to mine on his left hand?”
Using our way of communication, I reach for my drink and take a sip then discreetly tap on the glass.
“The man you’re sitting by is Vlad. I wasn’t sure at first, but after I heard him speak in Russian, I have no doubt.”
The floor feels like it slips from beneath me. I knew I would be in contact with him tonight, but I guess I was never really prepared for it. The heat of all the anger and hatred I have for this man explodes from my veins and surges through my bloodstream.
My hands start to tremble. The tube of lipstick shakes as I hold it tightly in my hand. My lungs have ceased to work. The air is trapped inside my chest. I don’t have a weapon, but I do have the element of surprise. I could easily swing back and punch him in his larynx.
Slowly, I lower my tube of lipstick and place it back in my clutch. I fasten it shut then turn back toward the man. I look over at him again, really studying his face. I never saw him when he was violating me and my mother, but I did hear him.
As I think about that night, Vlad laughs, and my heart stops. The big bellow catapults me back to that night and the sound he made when he finally climbed on top of me.
It is him. I’m looking into the eyes of my rapist.
The anger wants to be released. I want to destroy him. I want revenge for what he did. Nothing would please me more in this very second.
I turn completely in my chair, my body facing his in a seated position. When he rests his hand on my thigh, I do nothing. He has no idea who I’m or what he has done to me. He simply sits here with a smug look on his face, thinking he’s going to nail me in the near future. The thought of his future excites me, and I smile.
He’ll be dead soon, and it will be by my hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Nikolai
August 12, 2015 10:57 p.m.
I can’t see a single thing, but I can sense the agony rising up in Josslyn’s chest. When I overheard his conversation with the bartender, I had no doubt it was Vlad. He wasn’t speaking any Thieves business, simply restaurant. Nevertheless, the sound of his voice was all I needed, and my fear for Josslyn’s safety skyrocketed.
&n
bsp; Then she confirmed it. We got those skulls together on a drunken bender. They are nearly identical, and as far as I know, we are the only people in the organization who have that particular design.
Her breaths resume once she spins around, but they are deep breaths one would take to fend off surging adrenaline. She’s going to do something stupid. I know it.
Whispering in her ear, I say, “Excuse yourself to the restroom. We need to talk.”
She wastes no time. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”
“Of course. I have a private bathroom if you’d like to use that one.”
Of course you do, you piece of shit.
“Oh, that would be great, but why do you have your own bathroom?” Her voice is sultry yet cold. I can picture Vlad foaming at the mouth to get her alone with him.
“You see, my little kukla, I own this restaurant, and I have a private dining area I use for my special guests.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Show me the way, Mr. …”
“Ivankov and you?”
“Amelia Night, Mr. Ivankov.”
I have to say, I’m impressed by her sudden adaptation of Amelia Night. I was worried she would fall flat, exposing herself for sure.
The sound of shuffling occurs, and I listen hard to the sound of her heels clicking on the tile floor. It takes a moment before the sound becomes minimal then apparent once again. The hollow thuds of each heel and his footsteps make it apparent they are moving upstairs exactly as I thought they would be.
“Wow,” Josslyn says through the microphone. “This is very beautiful.”
“As are you, Miss Night. But first, I need to have my guards search you. One of my stature can’t be too careful.”
I hold my breath as I drive my car to the hidden spot I found earlier.
“Of course,” she coos back to him.
I exit the car and stuff the keys in my pants pocket. I can feel my pistol secured in my holster inside my jacket and the clips on the other side.
Away with You (The Revenge Series Book 2) Page 19
