Page 48 of Taming Mika

“Marco, as soon as you can, I want you to collect Nina and bring her back up here. Put as many men as we can spare on the road up once you get her in the chopper. I want this place locked down better than Fort Knox. You can send Salvatore back down for me with the bird once my sister is settled in.”

“Understood.”

At least then, I’ll have Mika and Nina in the same place and as well fortified as I can.

I can’t get Mika out of my mind for the entire flight back to New York City. I can still smell her arousal on my fingers, and images of her naked and bent over her desk keep flashing through my mind. I need to concentrate on how I’m going to deal with Dominik—if Nikolai still hasn’t surfaced by the time we land. But focus proves elusive when I have a blonde spitfire waiting for me upstate.

Forty-five minutes later, Vincent and I are piling into the armored Escalade with four of my men and a driver. The last I heard from Romeo, Dominik still hasn’t moved from Shaker’s, so that’s where I’m going.

“Still nothing on Nikolai,” Vincent confirms darkly as he hangs up with the men who have been out looking for him since yesterday.

I nod, scowling through the windshield as I wonder how in the hell Nikolai could have vanished so thoroughly. It’s not like I haven’t been keeping a close eye on him—for a long time, not just since this conflict started.

Romeo’s car is still parked where it was before, but as we roll up, stopping next to it, a tingling foreboding races down my spine. No one’s in the driver’s seat, but a slip of paper has been tucked beneath the windshield wiper.

“I’ll get it,” Matteo says, slipping out of the back seat. He casts a glance up and down the street before approaching the vehicle to snag the paper.

We’re all on high alert until he makes it back to the SUV, and I command Sep to pull up around the corner as Matteo passes me the note.

“Merda,” I mutter after quickly reading the chicken scratch. “Dominik’s holding Romeo in the club.”

“What’s it say?” Vincent asks, his eyes flicking down to the paper in my hands.

“It’s time to talk.” I ball the paper in my fist and toss it onto the floor. “Let’s go. Weapons hidden, but be ready.” I glance toward Sep behind the wheel. “Keep the motor running.”

He gives a quick nod of understanding, and I slip out of the passenger seat, my men falling in around me as we head toward the club. It’s nearing sunset, and the entrance looks more popular now that we’re nearing the end of the work day. The bouncers standing at the glass double front doors don’t even try to stop me as my men and I march up the steps. Shaker’s is written in bright neon-pink cursive letters along the back wall of the foyer, large enough to read before we even step inside.

“Where is he?” I demand of the young leather-clad hostess with cat-eye makeup that makes her blue eyes pop.

She can’t be more than eighteen, but she’s fully embracing the club lifestyle, her breasts pushed up as far as her halter top will allow as she shows off her midsection. She tosses her thick, high ponytail of dark hair playfully, eyeing me up and down before she pops her gum. Then she rests her chin on one palm, her elbow propped against her host stand as she lets her long manicured nails tap against her cheek. “Where’s who?” she asks innocently.

“Dominik. He’s expecting me,” I growl.

The girl’s flirty smile drops, and her eyes shift to take in the men behind me with more scrutiny as she stands tall. “Mr. Bonetti?”

I give her a stony glare, waiting for her to realize she’s barking up the wrong tree, and a flicker of anxiety flashes through her blue eyes.

“Right this way.”

The girl steps out from behind her host stand, her leather mini skirt barely long enough to cover her ass before her thigh-high fishnets start. Once, I might have found the girl appealing, but now, she only makes me wonder what it would take to get Mika into an outfit like that. I suspect Mika wouldn’t be caught dead in public wearingsomething that revealing—which only makes the thought of it more enticing, especially because her fit ass and long legs would look incredible. Hell, she makes a dirty pair of jeans look sexy.

The club girl’s clacking steps are muffled by the throbbing beat as we enter the main floor of the club. Businessmen wearing high-end suits have already bellied up to the catwalks where strippers dance, spinning on their poles, their bodies bare except for small triangles of fabric that cover what’s between their legs. The only lighting comes from the neon runway strips and the flashing, colorful strobe lights, casting deep shadows on all the men there to watch.

Our party stays on high alert, ignoring the dancers entirely as my men keep their hands tucked subtly beneath their suit jackets, ready to draw their guns at the smallest provocation. The bar bustles with activity, bartenders shaking cocktails as scantily clad waitresses in stilettos wait to fill their drink trays. At the back of the club, two guards barricade a set of wide double doors—metal, by the looks of it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were bulletproof. The guards eye us suspiciously before our hostess signals for them to step aside. They do wordlessly, their expressions warning me that any funny business will be handled without hesitation—no exceptions.

The double doors lead to a long hallway with soft blue track lighting. Numbered doors line each side, and based on the sounds issuing from behind them, it’s easy to conclude this is where customers come to satisfy their desires—for the right price. Two more guards stand on either side of the unmarked door at the end of the hall, watching us closely.

“Mr. Kapranov is expecting Mr. Bonetti?” our young guide confirms, her long strides making her hips sway provocatively.

One of the men lets his eyes drift down to watch the hypnotizing motion as the other man meets my gaze.

“He’s been waiting,” he confirms.

Based on his tone, I’d say that’s not a good thing—and he thinks I’m to blame for making his boss wait.

“Your men stay here,” he adds, eyeing Vincent up and down.

My guard bristles, ready to refuse, but I hold up a hand to silence him.

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