Page 44 of Deadly Protector
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
As he sat at the curved, cushioned table in the dimly lit bar area, Dimitri glanced around the strip club. As far as clubs went, this one wasn’t a dive, but it still had that skeevy feel to it. At least they had security for the workers, though from his easy entrance a few minutes ago, not good enough.
He’d strapped a knife to his calf and had a small pistol sheathed against his ankle. He was surprised he hadn’t been frisked, but that told him Ryba had simply chosen this place because it would be easy to talk here. Not because Ryba had connections here.
Though he could be wrong, and he wasn’t going to underestimate Ryba.
He had a feeling Ryba was going to underestimate him though. The fact that he’d called Dimitri and made threats this morning told him that he already had. He was also clearly desperate, which made him dangerous.
As he scanned the place, he let his gaze roll right over Isa and Graysen, a married couple he worked with at Red Stone Security. Isa was his boss when working jobs and she was very good at getting into computer systems undetected. He’d seen her work and it was magic. She would have been a great thief.
A steady thump sounded over the speakers, a newish song he vaguely recognized as a man said, “Give it up for Candy, everyone!”
Dimitri tuned out the rest of the intro as his waitress walked up, set his drink on the table. It was way too early to be drinking, but he needed to blend in until Ryba got here. Little bastard.
“You want to start a tab or look at the menu?” The woman, whose nametag simply said Red, wore a French maid’s costume that left nothing to the imagination and looked bored as hell.
He set a twenty on the table and slid it over. “Keep it. I’ll let you know if I decide to order food.”
Her eyes widened slightly but she pocketed the bill. “If you do, the burger is the only good thing on the menu,” she murmured, then winked.
He gave her a half smile that quickly died as Ryba swaggered over. He had on jeans, a T-shirt with no sleeves and a stupid trucker hat. It was as if he was trying to look like a douchebag.
Dimitri might not care for Ryba’s aunt, but the woman at least had style and sense.
He did a quick scan of the other man, was pretty sure he had a weapon tucked under his T-shirt. The bulge was too visible. Looked like a knife. Dimitri had also seen two men walk in with him and veer off to another booth, so Ryba wasn’t alone.
“I’ll have what he’s having and make it quick,” he called out to the waitress, who stopped to glare at Ryba.
“Take your time,” Dimitri said to her. Then, as Ryba sat, he shook his head. “You think it’s smart to be rude to the people who have control over your food or drinks?”
“She knows I’m just joking.” He sat on the opposite side of the booth and spread his arms out on either side of the back.
Okay so he was playing “big man” right now. When in reality he was a tiny piece of shit.
Dimitri kept his expression neutral. “Talk.”
“Since your woman lost what she owes me, you’re going to help me pull off a job. It’ll be quick. In and out. And your payment will be that your girl walks away free.”
Dimitri watched him long enough that Ryba started to squirm in his seat. “What’s the job?” he finally asked. He couldn’t appear too eager, but he needed more details.
“No way. I’ll tell you at the last minute. That way you can’t screw me over.”
“I don’t need your job or the money. If I’m involved in this—and I’m not saying I will be—I need to know what to expect. What kind of tools I’ll need.”
He shrugged. “Standard ones.”
God, this guy really was stupid. Dimitri took a deep breath, prayed for patience. The waitress appeared then, slammed the drink down so that it sloshed a little, then tossed napkins at Ryba.
“Ah, come on, Red, don’t be like that,” he whined.
In response, she turned away from them, her little skirt flaring, revealing her thong and mostly bare ass. Ryba stared at her, practically drooling like a dog.
“Focus,” Dimitri snapped out. “There are no standard tools. And if this is how you do business, I’m not working with you. And I’m certainly not working for free.”
“It’s not free if you and your girl get to live.”
“You really are fucking stupid,” he murmured.
