Page 7 of Double or Nothing
“I’m right behind you,” Natasha says over my shoulder. “That’s Igor. I’ve known that man since I was twelve years old. Eva, call King to help us take him to the basement so I can hurt that motherfucker. I’ve been waiting all my life for this.”
“No! Wait!” Eva yells as I jerk open the office door and we rush out. “Don’t go down there without backup!”
Natasha rushes ahead of me in her black high-heeled boots, and I follow right behind her. I can’t imagine what Igor did to her, but it must have been bad. Whatever she has planned for him in the basement, I’m here for it and hope she allows me to participate, too.
Our timing is terrible, and we reach the crowded floor of Platinum as a new performance starts. The club is filled, and we can barely squeeze our way through the crush of women to cross the huge room.
The atmosphere in Platinum is electric, the air thick with the heavy scent of perfume and alcohol. The strobe lights and pulsating music create a disorienting haze, the dim lighting casting shadows over the faces of the women, their expressions a mixture of elation and anticipation of the show.
As we push our way through the throng of bodies, the heat from the tightly packed crowd is suffocating. The thunderous bass of the music assaults my ears, making it difficult to think.
We weave our way through the maze of tables, the press of bodies making it nearly impossible to hurry. The dancing women, oblivious to the deadly game of cat-and-mouse unfolding around them, continue to laugh and flirt with the dancers. Each step we take is a struggle, the press of bodies a constant challenge.
“Can you spot him?” I ask Natasha. I’m shorter than she is and can’t see well over the tall women in their high heels.
“No, but he won’t get away,” she replies. “His brother, Ivan, must be here too. Look for him. They’re brothers and are always together. Bastards! I will kill them with my hands.”
When we finally reach the table where Igor was sitting, it’s empty. Only the lingering scent of Igor’s strong aftershave remains, a pungent reminder of his recent presence.
“Fuck!” Natasha mutters. “He’s gone. We must find him before he gets away. We can’t let him leave. His blood is mine.”
“Can’t you call one of your men to stop him at the door?” I ask.
“Do you see any men who could stop Igor or Ivan at the door?” she replies. “What would they do? Hit them with their fake firehoses or handcuffs? Dimitri’s men will kill without hesitation. I will not put my friends in danger to protect me. This is my war.”
“It’s our war now,” I correct her. “They’ll kill me too when they realize I’m alive, if they haven’t already figured it out.”
A terrible thought hits me. What if I led them here straight to Natasha? Maybe they’re here because of me, not her. Oh crap! Why didn’t I think of this before?
“Natasha, stop! Maybe you should go somewhere out of sight. What if the Russians somehow tracked me here? They might not realize you’re here, too.”
Natasha whirls around to stare at me. “Do you think they followed you? How?”
I shake my head. “No idea, if they did. I’ve been very careful to cover my tracks and have been in hiding in Vegas since I’ve been here.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “No more looking over my shoulder. It is time to face them, and I will. I’m ready to fight. They’re in Vegas now, my home. Not fucking Russia or Ukraine. I have friends here. We must find him before he escapes.”
I turn to scan the large floor of the club in one direction for Igor, while Natasha scans the other side. How did he disappear so quickly? Where did he go?
Suddenly I’m grabbed from behind and a set of strong, muscular arms wrap tightly around me. The delicious scent of Seven engulfs me.
“Jade! Thank God you’re safe!” Seven’s familiar voice says into my ear. “Where have you been? We’ve been searching all over for you. I can’t believe we found you. My God! I’m relieved to see you.”
Shocked at the tone of his voice, I turn around in his arms and stare up at him. I’ve never seen an expression of pure panic on his face before. The concern etched on his face is clear, the lines of worry adding a new depth to his handsome features. Instead of his normal attire of expensive suits and blazers, he’s wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and Vulcan’s leather jacket.
“I’m fine,” I say, gripping his arms. “What is it? What’s wrong? And why the hell are you wearing Vulcan’s clothes?”
“Everything is wrong, except that you’re okay, and that’s the only thing that matters,” he replies, grabbing me in another tight hug and holding me close. “The fucking Russians are here, so we need to get you out now.”
“I know they’re here,” I say. “We saw one of them sitting at this table a few minutes ago. Now he’s gone. Help us find him.”
“We?” Seven asks. “Who the fuck is we?”
I wave a hand toward Natasha, who has her back turned to us. She’s still scanning the crowd for Igor. “This is Natasha, the woman I’ve been searching for.”
“Why am I not surprised?” he says. “You need to leave with me now. There are things you aren’t aware of.”
“Tell me what’s going on,” I say. “I need to stay and help Natasha find Igor before he gets away. He’s dangerous to both of us.”
