Dark Chase (The Gunrunner Series) Read Free

large-bill tips spilling from the hourglass shaped, large crystal jars in front of the stages, but the luxurious clothes of the patrons.
    There were some couples—men in suits with beautiful young women decked in furs and sparkling jewels. There were also a couple of large groups of girls, like the group sitting at the table right next to her. But most of the patrons were men.
    Men of all stripes. Men in suits. Men in long bisht robes. Men in kaftans.
    She flicked her eyes up and noticed a second floor with balconies that overlooked the first floor. Darkened booths loomed in the distance, which her imagination filled with writhing couples. Small tables lined the open space, where men sat, ignoring the display of flesh, deep in conversation.
    Bingo.
    Those men. Those conversations were where they traded power, knowledge, and bargained dark deals over drinks. That’s where she needed to be.
    But how?
    She took another sip of her gimlet and snuck a glance around her. Several men were staring at her, not the strippers, with hungry eyes. She looked away, avoiding any eye contact. That was not the type of attention she wanted.
    She drained her drink.
    The noise, the lights, and the sexual charge in the air were getting to her. She flagged down the waitress who quickly answered her question and pointed out the restrooms to her.
    She moved on quick feet, winding her way through the crowd with her eyes cast down.
    The restroom had a heavy, mirrored door. She pushed it open and was welcomed with an unexpected stillness.
    It was all darkness, very different from the light outside. Deep red couches lined the room she had stepped into, along with a line of lit mirrors and stools for touching up make-up. Black tiles led into another area with individual stalls with frosted glass doors.
    The heavy door and thick couches muted the music of the club into a faint pounding. It was a welcome break from the intrusions of light and noise.
    She plopped down in front of one of the mirrors and tugged a small comb through her hair. Now that she was here, she had no idea what to do.
    Her solitude was interrupted with a heavy swing of the door. A tall, slim woman strode into the room. Her platinum blond hair tumbled down to her waist, her striking hazel eyes darting around the room. She was dressed to kill in a black leather, second-skin dress and tall, fuck-me black stilettos. Gold, gothic jewelry hung from her neck and ears and flashed on her slim fingers with long, bright-red nails.
    Her eyes settled on Sophia, and a hint of a mocking smile appeared on her face. Sophia moved her eyes back to the mirror, ignoring the woman, hoping she would go away.
    It didn’t work. She sank into the chair next to Sophia and pulled out a small, square leather purse covered with gold studs. “Not good place for nice tourist,” she said in English, her accent thick and lustrous.
    Sophia tucked her comb back into her purse. “I’m not a tourist,” she answered in Russian. “And I’m not always nice.”
    The girl’s eyes widened, and she laughed. “Very good Russian. Not native, but good enough.” She looked strangely pleased.
    Sophia smiled and then pulled out her burgundy lipstick.
    “American?” the girl asked. She had produced a cigarette case and lighter from her BDSM purse.
    “Maybe,” Sophia answered.
    “Relax. I not trying to bother you, okay?” said the woman in broken English. After she lit her cigarette, she extended her hand. “Tatiana. You?”
    Sophia shook it. “Sophia.”
    Tatiana smiled. It was mischievous, but genuine. Her eyes lit up. “What are you doing in a place like this without a man?” She was back to speaking in Russian now. Her smile slipped a bit and she became more serious. “This is not a good place for a young woman to be alone.” She turned her head to blow the smoke away from Sophia. “I saw you sitting alone, looking nervous. I came in to warn you.”
    Sophia carefully applied her lipstick. It gave her a few