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ChapterOne
Itip the glass back, swallowing the liquid in one gulp, my eyes never leaving the mirror in front of me.
The bar is packed body to body, but with my target standing almost half a foot taller than everyone else, he’s not difficult to see.
“Another?” the bartender asks me, despite the people surrounding me vying for his attention.
“Sure, same again.”
I watch as he makes my drink, my focus mostly on him, but I can still see my target.
Bartender or not, I never trust anyone making my drinks.
He slides it to me as I reach into my pocket for some cash.
“It’s on the house. You doing anything later?”
I take him in, my eyes roving over his young, firm body, his faded blue eyes, dirty blond hair, and offer him a wide-eye, innocent stare.
“You, if you’re up to it.”
A huge grin spreads across his face as his attention is snagged by a man waving his hand at the other end of the bar.
“I get off in an hour.”
“I’ll find you,” I reassure him, shifting my focus to my target, who throws his head back and laughs at something someone says to him.
He nods his head in this direction and heads toward the bar with his entourage in tow.
He’s too far away, and it’s too noisy for me to hear him speak, but it doesn’t matter. I see Honey, our newest recruit, taking his order. I know she’ll do her part.
I’m still adjusting to having Honey on the team. I can’t say I ever thought I’d miss Dulce and her motormouth spewing her particular brand of sunshine. But what can I say? The woman somehow managed to get under my skin. Like an infection or something.
Now she’s shacking up with a collection of men in training. Well, perhaps not Aslanov. That specimen is all man and not someone I’d have put with Dulce. She has—or had—a type: malleable. She liked to be in control. It shocked the shit out of me when she gave up her life here to go live with a man who doesn’t have a submissive bone in his body.
Still, they somehow make it work. The woman must have the patience of a saint, though, having four men in her life. I can barely tolerate one, and it’s usually only long enough for them to get me off. Once they start talking, the attraction tends to wane.
Honey blinks twice at me, letting me know the plan is in motion. I take that as my cue to drink the rest of my drink and head toward the restrooms.
There are two on this floor and two on the next, but Andrew Parks wouldn’t be seen dead using the same facilities as us commoners.
As a special guest of the owners, he has a key to the private bathrooms on the top floor.
Unlucky for him, so do I.
I strut toward the back entrance, feeling eyes on my ass.
I poured myself into these leather pants, knowing they would draw attention. In a place like this, where less is more, anything too conservative would draw more attention than if I walked around naked.
Just before I get to the fire exit, I turn left and head up the stairs to the next floor. Usually, this area would be guarded, but the poor unfortunate soul has a not-so-random case of the shits and is currently on the toilet trying to stop his insides from falling out.
When I get to the top floor, I edge the door open and slip into the empty corridor.
There are no cameras up here. It never ceases to amaze me how utterly stupid rich people can be. If they had nothing to hide, they would have them, right? I guess this is karma at its finest.
The bathroom is located at the far end of the corridor, as far from the owner’s office as possible, which is just as well. I don’t want the man to know I’m about to kill one of his friends.
He might frown upon that and bar me from coming back, which would be a shame since I happen to like this place.
