We got girls, the woman drawled.
And theyre actually female under the hood?
The woman grinned, revealing gaps on each side of her yellowed teeth. No impersonators here, handsome. Theyre one block down on the other side of the street. Cmon in. You look like you could use a drink.
How exactly did that look? A shot of whiskey did sound good, though. Maybe several shots. In fast succession. Enough to wipe the whole stupid idea of relaxing out of his gullet for a while.
The music was loud, pounding against his skull when he walked into what turned out to be a pole-dancing club, complete with a raised stage and topless women gyrating without much enthusiasm. Jesus, they looked like children up there on stage. Or maybe he was just getting old.
Asher spotted a table in the corner well away from the stereo speakers and slipped into a seat with his back to the wall. He scanned the room and frowned. Trouble was brewing. Two men were glaring at each other from opposite sides of the catwalk that extended out into the audience. A stripper shook her booty between the two of them, for all the world looking like she was egging them on. Being a tease was what she was paid to do, but jeez. She was provoking the guys like crazy. Drunks and half-naked women never did mix well.
Sure enough, the fight broke out, and he watched impassively as a huge bouncer dived in to break up the fray. But what Asher didnt expect was a good chunk of the audience diving into the fight, too. When knives came out in multiple fists, he rolled his eyes.
Dammit, he didnt want to have to be a hero tonight. He was on vacation. But it wasnt like he could sit here and watch those jackasses carve each other up and possibly injure innocent bystanders. Not to mention that drawing weapons meant the cops would be called, and he really didnt need to spend all damned night giving statements to the police.
He sighed and stood up. Grabbing the collar of the nearest idiot with a knife, he disarmed the guy with a twist of the mans wrist so fast the guy didnt know what had happened.
Asher spun to face another drunk. A hard, quick fist to the chin and the guy went down. He wasnt unconscious, but he was stunned enough not to rejoin the fight right away. Asher stepped over him and disarmed two more men before the remaining drunks figured out a wrecking ball had swung into the fight, and they all staggered back from one another.
His shock-and-awe approach gave the bouncer time to get ahead of the knife wielders on his side of the stage and toss them out of the club, with a kick in the pants for emphasis on the way out the front door.
Shaking his head, Asher returned to his seat to watch the waitresses scurry around righting tables and hauling out broken chairs.
A slender arm appeared over his shoulder, and a glass of neat whiskey plunked down on the table in front of him. Startled, he reflexively grabbed the female wrist and gave its owner a yank. A young woman landed in his lap with a surprised oomph.
Hey! she protested. Eyes so blue they hurt to look at blinked up at him. Other sensations bombarded him all at once. A resilient tush pressing down rather suggestively on his man parts. A spectacular view of cleavage. Not huge breasts, but perfectly shaped. A nice handful. Slender limbs going every which way in his arms. Silky, straight blond hair wisping across a face that would be prettyreally prettywithout all that heavy makeup caked on.
But all of that paled before the bizarre sense of...connection...he felt with this woman as they stared at one another. Like theyd met before. Maybe in a past life. Not that he believed in any of that woo-woo stuff for a second.
Its not wise to sneak up on a guy like that, he muttered. Especially not after hes just disarmed a bunch of dudes with switchblades.
She stared up at him for a moment more and then, inexplicably, relaxed in his arms. Like she trusted him or something. As if she knew instinctively that he was one of the good guys. What the hell?
You handled yourself well in the fight, she murmured.
Are you Russian, too? he asked. Everyone else in this joint so far seemed to be. Hed apparently stumbled into the local Slavic hangout.
Russian by heritage, born and bred in New Orleans, though, she answered in an entirely convincing New Orleans drawl, her sapphire gaze flickering furtively toward the bar. Fear radiated off her.
His arms tightened instinctively around her sweet, now tense, body. A shocking urge came over him to carry her out of here, to take her someplace quiet and alone to...to do what? He didnt take advantage of women. And hed never been fond of hook-up sex. It always left him feeling cheap and more alone than ever. Was he so desperate for a human connection that the first chick to fall into his lap seemed like a gift from God? Hell, maybe Frosty had been right to force this shore leave on him, after all.
He frowned down at the girl now cowering in his arms. Are you illegal?
Her attention snapped back to him. Their gazes clashed but still managed to meld together as heat flared between them. Talk about instant chemistry.
She sounded a little out of breath as she mumbled, I have to go. Let me up or else the owner will charge you for a lap dance.
He cast about for somethinganythingto keep her in his arms a little longer. Whats your name?
Hank.
He blinked, echoing, Hank? His arms loosened in surprise, and she leaped to her feet.
Short for Hankova. You want another whiskey?
Sure...Hank. Make it a double. Anything to get her to come back to him. To look at him again and thaw some of the ice encasing his heart.
He watched her hustle away from him toward the bar. Her legs were a mile long in black fishnet, and those seams running down the back of each leg, ending in little bows on the backs of her ankles, were the sexiest things hed seen in a long time. He slugged the first whiskey without tasting it, let alone feeling the bite of it going down his throat.
Asher heard a commotion at the front door and tensedno doubt one or both of the drunks from before were trying to get back inbut the bouncer handled it and kept the troublemakers out. He released the tension from his body but wouldnt go so far as to say he actually relaxed.
His phone vibrated, signaling an incoming text, and he fished it out without ever taking his eyes off Hank. She moved around quickly and discreetly among the other patrons like she didnt want to be seen. Not that he blamed her. Roaming hands seemed to be epidemic around this place.
His jaw tightened a little more each time some bastard grabbed her ass and gave it a squeeze. When she made her way back to the bar to place an order and got a seconds respite from the groping, he spared a glance down at his phone.
The text was from Perriman. Dont come back until youve relaxed, Hollywood. Thats an order.
Hollywood. His nickname on the team and a reference to his movie-star good looks. As he recalled, Perriman had been the first of his instructors to start calling him that back when hed been a snot-nosed kid with a chip on his shoulder, hell-bent on showing his father that he was a bigger, badder dude than the old man had ever been.
He silently cursed his boss in all of the many languages he spoke. Idly, Asher noted a patron ducking through a door at the back of the club. The passage was guarded by a beefy guy wearing a dress shirt and tie. The lap dance lounge must have been back there. Although as several more guys strolled into the back over the next few minutes and none returned to the bar, he began to suspect the patrons were going upstairs instead. Which meant this place was a front for a whorehouse.
Was Hank a working girl?
The idea didnt even faze him, as it turned out. He had to find a way to get to know her better. Seduce her. Have a passionate affairpaid or otherwise.
Except, he was on only a couple weeks leave. Just passing through. For all he knew, she was looking for a long-term relationship. Permanence. Commitment. He had no right to pursue her randomly. His gut clenched in frustration at the thought of letting her slip away.
Speak of the devil. She was sauntering back toward him with a bottle of pretty decent whiskey and a shot glass balanced on her tray. She set both down in front of him and gave him a fleeting, secret little smile that only he could see.
What do I owe you?
She smiled again, a little bigger this time. Her whole being lit up when she smiled like that. Jeez, he couldnt remember the last time a woman had knocked him this off balance. She murmured, Its on the house for helping break up the fight.
Wow. Generous. Whos the owner so I can say thanks?
Her eyes went furtive again, and she suddenly glanced toward the door beside the bar.
His senses went on high alert. Are you safe here, Hank? he asked.
A pregnant pause. Her doe-eyed gaze flickered to him and then skittered away again. Yes. Of course.
Not safe. And there went his protective instincts, firing on all cylinders. What time do you get off work tonight? Ill walk you home.
Massive alarm fired off in her big, scared eyes. No! she blurted.
Its nothing like that, he explained quickly. Im just offering to see you home safely. I swear I wont come on to you or anything. But after that fight, those drunks will hang around outside looking for trouble. It was a lie, but he really did want only to protect her from the threat scaring her inside the bar. And she obviously wouldnt let him walk her home without an excuse.
I can take care of myself, she said.
He frowned, studying her face closely. Lord, she was mesmerizing. He greedily memorized every nuance of her face. Then he asked bluntly, Do you ever work upstairs?
Chapter 2
Hank stared down at the big, intimidating man seated before her and answered forcefully, No! She ought to be offended by his far too personal question, but she got the distinct impression he wasnt asking because he wanted to buy an hours use of her body.
Not that she would necessarily say no to him if he offered. He was handsome with a capital H. Fashion magazine hot. He had that whole chiseled features thing going. Dark hair. Dark tan. And Lord, his light eyes looked right through her. She couldnt tell in this light if they were gray or blue. A hint of pain clung to him, masked by his deep reserve. She never could resist a man with a dark past.
Not just his big, athletic body, but his entire being, was perfectly still as he watched everything that went on around him. She got the feeling that his all-encompassing stare could turn predatory in a second. But so far, whenever hed turned it on her, his eyes had lit up with something reminiscent of a volcanic eruptionhot and molten.
If only she could tell him the truth. That her brother was lost somewhere inside the criminal organization that ran this place. That she was trying to infiltrate the Russian mob far enough to find him and save him from whatever hed gotten mixed up in. Or at least to find out what had happened to him. That he was her big brother, and hed practically raised her after the car accident.
She turned her attention back to the man lurking in the shadows. She was a total sucker for brooding, dangerous men, and he was both in spades. She couldnt get over how well his dark hair was set off by those light gunmetal eyes of his. And the way hed handled himself in the bar fight left no doubt how deadly he really was. Hed waded through seasoned brawlers and armed mob muscle like they were school children.
She spoke earnestly under her breath. You seem like a decent guy. This isnt the kind of place you should hang out in. Go have a nice life and dont worry about me. Find yourself a supermodel and have insanely great sex...
He poured himself a healthy shot of whiskey from the open bottle shed put in front of him. Not how I roll. How then, did he roll? God, shed love to find out firsthand. Of course, any idiot could see he was severely out of her league. Men like him just didnt want anything to do with cheap waitresses in sleazy joints like this.
Im not everyone...Hank. Hankova is a feminine patronymic. Whats your actual first name?
She frowned. He knew how patronymics worked? Practically no American had ever heard of the universal Slavic custom of taking the fathers first name, adding an ending, and making it the childs middle name. Its Evgeniya. My first name, that is.
He winced sympathetically, for which she might just have loved him a little, and then smiled ruefully. I see now why you prefer Hank. Its going to take a little getting used to, though.
He planned to stick around long enough to adjust to her weird name? Whoa. Cue the stunned happy dance. She smiled shyly. My mother called me Eve.
Eve. Thats nice.
Nice? Well, crap. There went any chance of him ever seeing her as a sexy femme fatale. The kind of woman he would consider having a torrid affair with. I always thought it made me sound like an old lady.
Well, then, Hank it is. But youre still nice.
Frantic to dispel the nice image that went hand-in-hand with girl next door and my best friends off-limits little sister, she took a step closer to the table. Then she leaned down, planted her palm on the table beside the whiskey bottle and gave him a generous look down her shirt.
Reaching for her toughest, most threatening tone of voice, the one she used to back off drunks who simply would not take no for an answer, she purred, Im a lot of things, mister, but nice isnt one of them.
Lifting a brow, he leaned back in his seat and pinned her with an intent look. Well, that wasnt exactly the response shed been hoping for at all! Shed wanted heat. Interest. Acknowledgment that she was torrid-affair material. Instead, it felt like he was stripping her bare with that laser stare of his, analyzing her psyche with computer-like precision.
She had to fight not to squirm under his probing gaze as the layers of her deception fell away. Drat and double drat. Hed seen right through her ruse.
At long last, analysis apparently complete, a wry smile curled up one corner of his mouth and he looked away from her, his gaze casually scanning the club. She sagged in relief and released the breath she hadnt realized she was holding. Intense guy.
He murmured mildly, Put your claws away, kitten. Im no threat to you.
Hah. He had no idea. She did not need any distractions. Nor did she need some high-profile guy coming in and making waves around herthe kind of waves that would attract undue attention in her direction. Her whole plan revolved around being invisible. Innocuous. Quietly sliding so deep inside the Russian mob outfit running this place that she could unearth the truth and maybe get some closure. Figure out whether Max was alive or dead