Page 50 of Sinful Betrayal

“I’m well aware.” I chuckle. “But I think even you will be impressed by my skills.”

“I already am, Koslov.”

I pickMikhail up from his townhouse just after nine.

Lucia is already in bed, asleep, after having a few bad nights with Vivi, but Mikhail assures me that she would love for me to visit soon.

“Maybe you should bring Nina over too.”

I pull away from the curb.

“If you’re going to spend the whole night giving me shit about Nina, I’m throwing you out of the damn car.”

Mikhail only laughs as he slaps me on the shoulder.

“And you used to callmethe grumpy one.”

We decide to head to one of Igor’s more seedier clubs near Chinatown in the hopes that the men he’ll have working there will be more willing to talk. Or if it comes down to it, more willing to be bribed.

The place is fairly busy, and it reeks of stale booze and sweat.

Mikhail and I force our way to the bar where we order a couple of drinks that have no doubt been watered down to increase the profit margin.

The bartender barely looks old enough to be serving alcohol, and Mikhail discreetly nudges me.

Here goes nothing.

“Do you know who owns this place?”

The bartender shakes his head, his mop of dirty blond hair falling into his eyes. “No.”

“Do you know someone who does?”

“Why?”

Mikhail leans against the bar. “We’re looking to invest in some clubs in the area.”

“Hang on.” The bartender disappears into the back, and I feel a spark of hope.

Perhaps this won’t be a waste of a trip after all.

A few minutes later, the bartender reappears with an older guy, perhaps in his late fifties, who looks like he hasn’t seen daylight in decades.

“These guys want to talk to the owner.” The bartender jerks his thumb toward Mikhail and me.

“What’s this about? You cops? Because ain’t no dodgy business goin’ on here.”

“We’re potential investors. We just want to speak to someone about the place, that’s all.”

“Owner’s not here.”

“Could we talk to you?”

“I’m busy.” He reaches for the half-empty bottle of gin currently sitting on the counter and disappears into the back.

“This is going well.” Mikhail picks his drink up off the sticky bar top. “Come on, let’s find somewhere to sit.”

Many heads turn in our direction as we wade through the crowded seating area to find an empty table.

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