Page 60 of Sinful Lies

I climb out of the hummer, smoothing my hands over my jacket as I glance at the entrance to the club.

The place is all locked up with no lights on. Looks empty, though I know better.

Massimo’s likely got a dozen men guarding the property, all armed and ready at the slightest hint of trouble. I can understand Feliks’s hesitation at letting me enter the lion’s den alone, but I want to send the right message.

If I go storming in there with all two hundred and fifty pounds of tatted up muscle, Massimo will think I’m looking to pick a fight.

Plus, I’m enough of a threat on my own.

I glance at my watch to check the time. It’s one minute to the hour.

Right on schedule, A bolt slides before the door opens, and one of Massimo’s men appears. He looks rough as hell with a deep gash down his cheek as well as a black eye.

“Inside.” The guy steps aside to let me pass.

“This is all rather sketchy, don’t you think?” I chuckle as he bolts the door behind me.

A few lights are turned on, casting the place in an eerie glow. I’ve never made a visit to this particular club before, and I hope I never have to again.

Massimo’sLackeystays quiet as he storms past me.

Adrenaline starts to build as I follow him through the empty club, cracking my knuckles as we pass empty booths.

Is this all some hoax? The place seems to be completely empty.

“Where’s Massimo?” My hand reaches inside my jacket for my gun.

“Back here.” The guy nods toward a red velvet curtain that’s at the back of the club. He pulls it back to reveal a separate VIP area with smoking chairs and a private bar.

Massimo leans against the bar, his back to me.

It would be so easy to pull out my gun and take him down with one shot, but Alexei would never forgive me. I’ve already screwed his plan up once. The least I can do is try to rectify my mistake.

“Massimo.” I’m not easily intimidated, but Massimo Conti is the exception—not that I’d ever let it show.

He’s a big guy, not far from Feliks's size, with a shaved head and a nasty scar running from his jaw up to his temple. For being in his late fifties, he’s still packing a hell of a lot of muscle beneath his navy three piece. Tattoos cover almost every inch of skin, and I don’t fail to notice that the one trailing the side of his neck readsLucia.

“Koslov.” Massimo turns to face me.

He looks pissed as hell, his heavily-ringed fingers tapping against the bar top as he glares at me.

I flash him a grin as I undo the button of my jacket.

“Got any vodka? I’m parched.”

Massimo narrows his blue eyes as I sink myself down into the closest chair and cross an ankle over the other.

I glance around, clocking the two men behind the bar, the one by the door, plus another to my left. TheLackeywith the black eye has disappeared, no doubt on door duty.

I’m severely outnumbered.

This should be fun.

“You fuck up my deal, and now you want to drink my booze?”

I shrug.

“It’s polite to offer your guests a drink.”

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