AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I nod slowly, silently thanking him for his loyalty. He tucks the address in his jacket pocket and leaves.
And, finally, it is time.
I am alone.
* * *
The drive to the inn takes almost an hour, but it feels like mere minutes.
I park in the back of the lot, shift the black mask over my face, and get out of the car.
I’m in a dark gray suit with a black button-down underneath. It is well-tailored and marks me as a man of taste without being too outlandish. I don’t want to stand out.
There are other men in the parking lot, all of them wearing masks. From what I can tell, the inn has been rented out for the weekend. There are no ordinary guests milling around, which makes sense. The Cartel wouldn’t want bystanders to their illicit activities.
I vaguely recognize a few of the men as prominent businessmen. They are wearing masks to hide their identities, but everything else about their appearance remains unchanged. They wear the same suits and carry the same weapons as they do in their day-to-day lives.
One man I can place instantly. His name is Peter Struthers and he is the president of a large bank. He is a hefty man with a round middle, which is difficult to hide, but he makes his identity even more obvious by wearing a pocket square with the bank’s logo embroidered on it.
I seem to be the only attendee of the event attempting to fly under the radar. Rick said that the masks are there to keep men from recognizing one another and rehashing old feuds, but clearly the other guests are uncomfortable going unrecognized. They flaunt their wealth and their power in their clothes and the way they carry themselves. Which is fine with me. It will make it all the easier to ascertain who they are and how I can outsmart and outbid them.
If there is one thing my father taught me, it is how to read people.
As leader of the Bratva, I have to know who is a threat to me, and the easiest way to do that is to watch people. To study them, to be proficient in body language, verbal tics, all the little signs and tells that mark a person as himself. Knowing who a man is can help you predict what he will do next. And that could be the difference between life and death—not just for me, but for my wife and daughter, too.
Also, those skills make me even more aware of my own behavioral cues. If I want to go unnoticed, I can’t let my own tics give me away.
I walk to the entrance with my head held high, but casually so. I let my arms swing at my sides, and I even smirk, something I usually reserve only for Eve.
As soon as I get to the door, it opens, and I realize the level of security this event has.
There are armed guards standing just inside the door. They wear headsets and their suits are bulky enough that I suspect they have on armor.
“Sir,” the bald guard who opened the door says. His words are respectful, but his eyes narrow as he takes me in. “I’m afraid there will be no electronics or weapons beyond this point.”
He tips his head to the other guard who is holding a basket.
“Really?” I ask, raising my eyebrow before remembering I have a mask on. “Feels a little juvenile, no?”
One of the guests behind me laughs at my joke, and the guard snaps his attention to him. The laughter cuts off mid chortle.
“It is for your protection as well as that of the merchandise,” the guard says. “Tempers can flare and it is easier to control fists than guns.”
I can’t argue with his logic, and even though everything inside of me wars against it, I drop my gun and my cell phone into the basket. I know it isn’t a big deal. I have plenty of experience fighting hand-to-hand should I need to, and even the guards, while muscled, look like they are more bark than bite. In a pinch, I could incapacitate one of them and steal a weapon.
The guard slaps a label on the side of the basket and shoves it into a safe before grabbing another empty box and holding it out to the man behind me.
Beyond the security checkpoint, no one asks me for a password or a ticket or any kind of identification to prove that I am supposed to be at the event. Apparently, Rick was right. The mask is all you need.
I walk further into the entryway and take note of the staircase that wraps around the edge of the circular room, leading to a large landing area on the second floor with a balcony. The room is all dark wood and crisp white walls, clearly updated recently to cater to modern sensibilities.
Under the balcony is a large doorway that opens into a general congregating area, though there is no one inside.
Then, suddenly, a man appears to my right.
“Sir,” he says, bowing low, one arm pressed to his stomach, the other at his back. “Would you come with me?”
Before I can respond, he turns and moves through a door to the right. I follow. The door opens into a long hallway, and he walks halfway down it before stopping in front of a door, unlocking it, and holding it open for me to go inside.
