Guns. Sex. Blood.
Two enemy secret agents try outsmarting each other on their dangerous global adventures... but when sparks fly, both their missions could go up in flames.
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A spoiled, rich B...
the largest nightclub in central Europe is found in Prague; the city's nightlife is vibrant and teeming with colourfully-themed bars and clubs
JAKE
May 7th, 21:32 (GMT +2) 8 days until it happens
BEING THE ONLY sober bloke in the middle of a boozy, raving hoard is no bloody fun at all.
After the fucking atrocious day I've just had, what I need more than anything is a stiff, proper drink, but that will have to wait til tonight's job is done and dusted.
Thumping music splits off the sweaty walls and bounces through gyrating bodies, packed and glistening and twitching like sardines. Purple and pink ribbons of neon light strobe across the sweltering room, and it smells smoky and bitter, like liquor and sex.
I weave a steady path along the edge of the crowd, trying to avoid getting sucked into the mayhem. Three beautiful women have already asked me to dance, and I was so bloody tempted to say yes, just for five minutes, just for one throbbing, incandescent song.
But dancing is not a part of the plan, and lord fucking knows we've had enough unscheduled surprises for one day.
This club is owned by Anton Nikitin, who oversees the mob's human trafficking circuits. Revolting and despicable, but it's real – hundreds of girls are bought and traded and sold every year. Cassidy Dalton is an attractive young woman, and it's entirely plausible that Anton's crew has their hands on her. The hard-drives from Sidorov's desk held nothing more than spreadsheet after spreadsheet of the mob's accounts in Poland, Austria, and the Czech Republic. Guns, alcohol, tobacco, street drugs, and women. It's how the mafia make their living.
Right now, my mission is a simple one. I need to analyze security tapes from the past few days for any hint of Cassidy Dalton's whereabouts.
And I need to do it before a certain someone beats me to it.
It's a quick, fussless job. Two security guards in the control room, two tranq-darts, two sagging chins lolling off swivel chairs. In minutes, I've downloaded the footage onto a small disc, storing it in the pocket of my jeans to comb through safely later.
Unobtrusively, I cut back towards the dance floor. Low, shuddering music booms along the sticky tiles. The warmth of two hundred jolting bodies beneath loud sprays of coloured light is thick and humid, and the nape of my hair beads with sweat.
I sense her presence before I see her. Something charges through the air, a spark of keen awareness flitting along the back of my head, like the intensity of a ravishing gaze clawing at me.
My eyes wade through a blur of twirling strangers before finding her.
I should turn away. I should keep moving. But instead I just stand, and stare.
A tiny black top, sheer lace, plunging low and clinging tight to every lush bend and swell. Scant red leather skirt, as deep and dark as a fresh wound, cropped high, hugging the twisting curves of her hips. Her hair is black, her smooth body is carved into shadows, she's wild and loose, swaying to her own pulsing rhythm, sleek, lithe in skyscraping stilettos, bronze and shining, bare arms, bare stomach, bare thighs, skin and skin and skin, more skin than clothes.
Heat flashes down my neck. I am so fucking angry at her that my fingers twinge.
She smiles. A glinting, devilish smile so naughty it glows.
I watch as she lifts her hands playfully above her head, swinging her hips slowly from side to side. She bends her slim arms behind her and winds them around the tall, willowy shoulders of another woman. The woman grips the golden strip of Rayna's trim waist, and they grind their bodies snugly together, sensual and lingering. Red lips slip down the delicate arc of Rayna's throat, and Rayna throws her head back, gasping, and my mouth spills open.
Rayna's fingers and the woman's twine together, trickling like honey up the valley of Rayna's ribs, squeezing over her round breasts. Her taut nipples poke through the translucent mesh into their cupped palms. I trace the path of the woman's fingertips, a spear of arousal wrenching through my insides.
Rayna swirls around in her grasp and presses her body close, close, closer, til there's not a sliver of air between their naked bellies. Teasing hands wander and skim and glide.
The woman buries her fingers into the tumbling mess of Rayna's hair. My heavy gaze follows the trail of her searching mouth as she presses luscious, open kisses down tan streams of Rayna's skin, over her delicate collarbone, between the surge of her heaving tits, down her soft stomach. The woman is on her knees, now.
In that moment, with her dance partner bowing on the ground at her feet, Rayna's eyes find mine, slicing into me over ten metres of gaping, electric distance. She curls a single beckoning finger at me, daring me to say yes, daring me to fucking refuse her, before popping the tip of it past her glossy lips, nudging it coyly with her tongue.
Challenge accepted, sweetheart.
I turn on my heel, my heart banging loud against my sternum, and walk the fuck away.
***
Author's Note [Oct. 28th, 2022]:
NOOOOOOOO you lil bitch!
xoxo Ami
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