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“No, that’s okay.” I back up, wanting to be closer to Ana. “I’ve got it.”
“I’ll buy you both a drink.” There’s a gleam in his eyes. “Two such beautiful women shouldn’t pay for their own night out.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure we’re okay.”
“I insist.” He reaches out to lay his credit card on the bar, and the sleeve of his jacket rides up just above his wrist, revealing the edge of a tattoo. I can’t quite see what it is, but it looks like the beginning of an eagle’s head.
Ana glances over at him, and I can see that she’s annoyed. “We don’t need—”
The words die on her lips as she catches a glimpse of his wrist.
Her face goes very pale. “Come on, Sofia,” she says, grabbing my hand.
Before I can say anything, she’s pulling me into the teeming mass of people on the dance floor, moving through them towards the bar on the far side of the club. I glance back once, catching a glimpse of the man’s white-blond hair through the crowd, but I lose sight of him almost immediately as they close around us.
“What’s wrong?” I gasp as we finally make it to the other side of the dance floor. “I thought you liked guys like that. Dominant, kind of pushy—”
“Sure.” Ana’s voice is shaking a little. She turns towards the bar. “Gin and tonic, please, and a double shot of vodka. Top-shelf.”
“Ana, what is it?”
“Stay away from him,” she says, her voice very low. “If you see him again, go the other way. And anyone else that you see with that tattoo.”
I blink at her, confused and scared all at once. “Why?”
“He’s Bratva.” Ana scans the crowd. “Russian mafia.” Her gaze flicks back towards me, and I can see that she’s really, truly frightened. “You don’t want to be noticed by them.”
My stomach flips over. “Shouldn’t we just leave, then?”
“No. He noticed you, for some reason. If we leave, they might follow us. Just act normally, and hopefully they’ll look for some other prey.” Ana smiles brightly, handing me my drink as she tosses back her double shot. “Another, please,” she tells the bartender.
She pulls me back out onto the dance floor, moving in time with the beat as she takes the second shot and drops the glass onto a passing tray. I clutch my own drink in one hand, trying not to spill it on anyone as I attempt to carve out my own space amidst the teeming, sweaty bodies. One man in a Matrix-style trench coat and a spiked collar starts moving in my direction, hips gyrating, and I automatically glance towards his wrists. They’re both bare, but that doesn’t mean I want to let him touch me.
It’s impossiblenotto be touched by someone out here, though. The club is packed to the max, and I look around, trying to keep an eye out for the tall blond man. But all I can see are dancing bodies, couples pressed up against walls and pillars making out and grinding against one another, and a few professional dancers gyrating against x-shaped crosses leaning against one wall. There’s a black winding stairwell leading up to a second floor, and just off of it, suspended above us, a cage with two barely-dressed female dancers writhing within it. I’m not entirely sure that there’s not more than just dancing going on in there.
I can feel the anxious pit in my stomach growing. If we can’t leave yet, I at least need to get out of the crowd for a minute. “I’m going to the bathroom!” I yell above the music, leaning close to Ana’s ear.
She frowns. “I’ll come with you,” she says, scanning the crowd for an easy path towards the staircase that leads up to the second floor, and the women’s restrooms.
“That’s okay! I’ll just be a minute—”
“We shouldn’t split up.” Ana grabs my hand. “Come on.”
I can smell the perfume and sweat from the dancers in the cage as we hurry up the staircase, heels clicking against the black lacquered floor as we walk quickly towards the bathrooms. The moment we step inside, I feel my heart rate slow a little. The music is muted in here, the air cool, and I sink down onto one of the black velvet benches, breathing in the scent of clove hand soap and cleaner air.
“You don’t actually have to pee, do you?” Ana asks, chewing on her lower lip. “I know it’s overwhelming. I’m sorry, I thought it would be fun.”
“I know.” I lean my head back against the wall. “It’s okay.”
“Well, I really do have to pee. Just wait here, okay?” She slips into one of the stalls, and I close my eyes briefly. Maybe Ana will come back out, and agree to go home. She can be insistent when she wants to do something, but she’s a good friend, and she knows I’m uncomfortable. Maybe enough time has passed since we saw the blond man that—
A heavy pressure descends over my mouth, and the scent of cologne and a man’s skin fill my nose.
My eyes fly open. The tall blond man is standing over me, his hand pressed against my lips, and as I try to open it to scream, he smiles coldly and wags his finger in my face. “Don’t make a sound,” he says in a hushed voice, and now I can hear his accent plainly.
Russian.Bratva,I hear Ana’s voice say in my head, and a chill runs down my spine.Mafia.
“You’re going to come with me,” he continues, leaning down so that his mouth is very close to my ear. “Quickly. Because if you don’t, and your friend steps out of that stall and sees me, I won’t have any choice but to shoot her.”
