“Start talking,” Fuentes huffs and stares at me.
“Someone was hacking into the Bratva’s system, and I traced it back here. Someone was trying to hack into our system, and it was here at the club. Is it you,” I snarl, curling my lip.
“No! It’s impossible. I don’t have a reason to do that. I don’t know much about hacking or IT, but don’t these hackers use lots of ways to avoid detection? Don’t they cover up their tracks using different locations and networks? Someone must be trying to set me up,” Fuentes says, raising his brow.
“Da, Da. It appears that someone is setting you up, but I’m going to look into it and pray that you’re not fucking setting a trap,” I hiss, pointing my Glock.
Fuentes shakes his head, and he looks straight into my eyes. He’s not sweating, ignores my Glock, and not fucking backing down. He has some fucking big balls.
“I’m working straight with you, Anatoly. I won’t do something that would jeopardize our fragile alliance,” Fuentes hisses.
“What the fuck? Alliance,” I growl, shaking my head.
“Si, an alliance to work together to protect our interests. Why would I save your life if I didn’t have good faith,” Fuentes says in a low voice.
Fuck!
He has a point, so I’m going to take the leap of faith, but if he’s fucking setting a trap, I’m coming after him.
“I’m going to take your word because you’ve given me no reason to doubt you, but I’ll come after you if I learn otherwise,” I hum, putting my Glock back into my holster.
“Si, you do that. Why don’t you go into the club and have a drink,” Fuentes says, nodding.
“Okay, I’ll have a drink,” I say.
“Fantastic. Let me take you to my VIP booth. We can have a drink and relax,” Fuentes says, waving his hand.
“Da, give me a minute,” I hum, nodding, and slide my Glock into my holster.
I slide my fingers on the screen of my cell to text my Soldiers, Pakhan and Brat.
“Okay, let’s get the drink,” I huff, sliding my cell into my suit jacket pocket.
“Si, follow me. You’re going to like Fuego Club. It’s a hot place; the grand opening was a couple of months ago. It’s a popular club with young adults, yeah, those crazy college kids,” Fuentes says, tilting his head and walking out of the office.
I don’t respond, and I look around as we walk down the hall, taking in everything. We walk out of the back office area, which is separate from the main club area. We enter another hallway that looks busy. The guards are stationed at the entrance of the hallway that leads to the restrooms and monitor the club from the back.
I look around, and it looks like any typical club, with a dark interior, red lights, chrome, glass, and black velvet sitting areas, tables, and chairs. The bar is packed with eager young college kids, and we walk up the stairs to the closed-off VIP level. Fuentes walks over to a big sitting area in the corner, sort of secluded, more private, and takes a seat.
The petite Mexican Barista walks over immediately to take our orders. She has long dark hair and huge dark eyes, and she smiles at us.
“Señor Fuentes,” Barista hums, holding a tablet.
“Carmen, bring us the Grand Patron Platinum and top-shelf Vodka. Bring us salsa, chips, and mix fajitas,” Fuentes says, leaning back into the booth and resting his arm across the back.
“Si, I’ll bring you the drinks, and the food will be a few minutes,” Carmen says, smiling.
She looks at Fuentes with sparkling eyes and tosses her long hair over her shoulder. She turns and walks away. Of course, Fuentes stares at her ass.
“Kravtsov, let’s get this alliance cemented in good faith with clear intentions from here on out. My Boss Oro is a crazy son of bitch, a bastard. I want to make our association run smoothly, no fucking games. I don’t want any issues with Bratva.”
“Da, I get it, but everything that’s happened around you, your club doesn’t give great unicorn vibes,” I say, raising my brow.
“Si, it’s unfortunate that some cabron is fucking with us, and that means they want us to have issues,” Fuentes hums, rubbing his scuff and narrowing his eyes, looking at the dance floor deep in thought.
“Here you go,” Carmen says, holding a tray.
She places the bottles, glasses, salsa, and chips on the table.
