“We’ll get one to celebrate after I take Mancini out.”
Quain laughed, his whole face lighting up. “Good luck with that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go nag a barber about his garbage overflowing.” He winked. “Bye, Ardan. Call me the next time you’re in town.”
Quain waved before he disappeared toward the back of the alleyway. Ardan watched him go, smiling. People like them ran busy lives and it was hard to make friends who understood the way they thought and acted, so it was good to catch up every once in a while. That’s the kind of relationship Ardan and Mancini had too, until Mancini turned into a rat.
The thought of the hitman made his fingers tingle and his gut clench, and he growled. It’d started when he woke up and the feeling left him insecure and annoyed. Sure, the sex was great, but Ardan wasn’t going to give up the task of killing Mancini just because he knew how to hit every one of Ardan’s pleasure points. No way. George hadn’t trained him to be weak.
He headed back to the Audi and put in the directions to the Courtesan. Sloan had mentioned the hotel once or twice, and the last time he’d visited New Gothenburg, it was to fix the mistake one of their men made. Sloan had only mentioned it briefly. Ardan was used when violence was needed to send a message, and apparently that hadn’t been one of those situations.
The Courtesan Hotel was located on a street filled with older buildings that appeared restored, with curved balconies, arched windows, and stone pillars. The hotel sat closer to the middle, nestled between a café and what looked to be a house. The outer walls were brick and the architecture was obviously Italian. As much as Ardan wasn’t a fan of many of the people he’d met, the Italians were handy with their craftmanship.
Outside the Courtesan were two doormen, although they looked more like guards. Dressed in black, they had the width of wide receivers in a football team. The moment Ardan pulled the car into the driveway, another man strode out the glass doors and greeted him with a wide, full toothed grin.
“Good afternoon, sir. An evening stay?” He didn’t have the size of the other men, so Ardan assumed he was a valet. A shiny gold badge sat pinned to his breast pocket, the nameJamesflashing in black lettering.
“I’m not sure yet.” Ardan passed him the keys anyway, along with some cash he tugged out of the inside of his suit jacket. It was helpful to always have some handy.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll take good care of her until you’re ready for her to be returned. Name?”
“Ardan Murphy. With anain Ardan.”
“Of course. Do you need any luggage carried in?”
“It’s in the trunk.”
“I’ll bring that into you immediately, sir.”
Ardan nodded and moved toward the glass doors. He didn’t miss the way the guards eyed him carefully, studying him even as he entered the hotel into the foyer. The inside was as nice as outside, with more stone pillars, high ceilings, and marble tiles with gold swirls. The reception desk was to the left, but to the right seemed to be some kind of entertainment room with what looked to be a bar and a stage for a live band.
Ardan didn’t get the chance to investigate because a tall man with a grin too big for his face, and too fake for Ardan’s liking, came rushing over. While he appeared to merely be a receptionist, his suit said otherwise. Ardan didn’t need to touch it tofeelits worth. Definitely Italian made and priced a pretty penny. Everything had to remind him of Mancini.
“Good afternoon. I’m Darcy Winters, the manager of the Courtesan Hotel. Do you have a booking, sir?” Darcy’s smile made Ardan uncomfortable. It didn’t suit his handsome face and there was hostility behind it.
“I’m here to see your madam.”
Darcy’s grin faltered slightly before he fixed it. “I am not sure who you’re talking about. As I said, I am the manager—”
“Madam Natalia Winters.” Ardan turned fully to him and took in his blond hair and high cheekbones. Handsome, but with a cold attitude. It wasn’t hard to read men like him. He hated every single person who walked through the front doors. “I know what this establishment is, Mr. Winters. I work for Sloan Killough.”
His smile didn’t fade but it changed into something else. Now it had an authenticity about it that made it feel more real, like he was grateful to hear that name. “Forgive me, I didn’t realize we were expecting one of Mr. Killough’s men. He did express to us that he was sending help, but I wasn’t sure what help he was referring to.”
“Not me,” Ardan said with a shake of his head. “I’m here on personal business.”
“A companion?” Darcy kept his voice low, bowing his head to another man in a suit who left through the front doors.
“No. Though I am looking for someone. His name is Gabriel Mancini. Have you heard of him?”
The smile fully dropped from his face and he puffed out a breath that sounded an awfully lot like irritation, which confirmed he’d heard of Mancini. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands together in front of him. “May I ask what your intentions are with Mr. Mancini? This is a safe place, sir.”
“I am aware of that. I only want to talk.”
“The Courtesan Hotel is a well sought-after establishment. We’re not somewhere for men to meet andchat.”
Ardan smiled and opened his suit, reaching for his wallet. He tugged out a wad of hundred dollar bills and passed them to Darcy, who grabbed at them without a second glance at him. He was a man used to lots of money.
“Is Mr. Mancini still here, Mr. Winters?” Ardan asked politely, but his tone held warning. He was tired of playing games.
Darcy nodded. “Yes, he is. He’s currently in his room with one of our men.”
