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A blonde woman glances up at me as I step into the lobby of the Russian bathhouse on 78th.
“dobryy den’. Imya uchetnoy zapisi?”
“Good afternoon,” I answer, tapping into the extremely limited Russian I have. “No, I don’t have an account.”
She smiles. “You are here to see someone then, sir?” she replies in heavily accented English. “We are members only, I am afraid.”
“Yes, I’m here as a guest of Pascha Andreev. I don’t believe he’s here yet, though.”
Or will ever be again.
She taps something on her computer, and then smiles at me. “Ahh, of course, sir. If you’d like to wait for him in the lounge—”
“I’d love to unwind for a bit and just meet him in the steam room, if I could?”
This place is ground fucking zero for Russian Bratva business. It was a gamble whether or not Pascha had a membership here. But luckily, apparently he does. Or, did. Or…whatever.
The woman at the desk smiles. “Not a problem, sir. If you’d like to follow the hallway past these doors, your second right will be the locker room, which will lead to the rest of the facilities.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
“You’ve got biggerballs than I would have guessed, Drakos.”
I take a seat on one of the tile benches in the giant steam room. Across from me, half-obscured by clouds of fog with a towel wrapped around his waist the same as me, a shirtless, tattooed Gavan gives me a pointed look.
I shrug. “If that’s your way of asking me to take the towel off…”
He smirks, but his eyes stay lethally riveted on me.
“I wasn’t aware you were a member.”
“I’ve been thinking about joining, so I asked for a tour. So far I’m impressed.”
He inhales deeply, rubbing his hand over his jaw.
“I own this place, in case you didn’t know.”
“Fantastic. Seems like that might take care of the sponsorship require—”
“What the fuck do youwant,” Gavan growls. “Because I come here not to be pestered by anyone, and for the silence.” He glares at me. “Idolove my silence, Hades.”
I spread my arms. “Fine. Cards on the table. What do you want with Serj Mirzoyan?”
Gavan smirks. “I think it’s obvious we want the same thing from Serj. But I also don’t think we’rereallytalking about the Albanians right now, are we?”
My mouth thins. “Who the fuckisshe to you?”
He smirks. “Elsa?”
I want to knock his fucking teeth in for even saying her name. But I restrain myself.
“Yes,” I hiss.
Gavan shakes his head. “As much as I’d enjoy fucking with you on this, she’s no one to me. She’s a lawyer who happens to work for the firm that I use for most of my legal needs.”
“Then what the fuck do you want with her?”
