Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) (30 page)

I walk out on the stage and am thankful for the bright lights, otherwise I would be too busy watching Agent Green and the girls that I wouldn’t even dance. I allow the music to take over and I do what I do best. I dance. I pretend that Kirill is out in the audience and I dance for my man, my badman.

When I’m finished, I hear Haleigh and Emiliya’s shouts as they’re the only female ones in the room, and I can’t help but smile at their obvious enjoyment.

By the time I make it backstage, they’re there, enveloping me in a hug with shrieks and giggles abound. I back away quickly, realizing that I’m topless; but they’re so excited, I don’t think that they even notice.

“Will you teach me, Tatyana? I want to learn how to get on a pole,” Emiliya cries out. It surprises me. All the times I’ve seen her, she’s been serious and quiet. Tonight, it’s like she’s on a high.

“Sure,” I shrug. “It’s a great workout,” I chuckle.

“Oh, do you think that Maxim will let us set up poles in the studio?” Emiliya asks, turning to Haleigh.

“Studio?” I ask in confusion.

“Maxim had a small dance studio built in the backyard. He wanted a place where I could privately tutor Kiska,” she shrugs as if it is no big deal.

“That’s amazing. Let me pay for part of it, or at least for the lessons, Haleigh,” I suggest.

“Never. It’s a place for me to go when I need a few minutes to myself as well. Maxim knows how much I have missed dancing, and in reality, it was more for me than anything. So, absolutely not,” she scolds. I can’t help but smile. It’s so odd to see her try to tell anybody anything, she’s too sweet.

“Okay.”

“We need to have poles installed,” Emiliya says again.

“That would be fun,” Haleigh mutters under her breath.

Emiliya, Haleigh, and I discuss the pole situation for a few minutes and we’ve all but decided we must do it. I let out a shaky breath once Anton gathers them and escorts them out the backdoor.

We promise to get together for lunch on Monday afternoon to hang out. I honestly can’t wait, and I want to see baby Rad so badly that I ache. He’s the sweetest little guy.

“Told you I would take care of it. Now get out to that fucker and find out exactly what he
fucking
wants,” Ziven all but growls.

I nod and hurry out to the floor.

I take a deep breath and exhale before I walk up to Agent Green’s booth.

S
LOWLY
, I
MAKE MY
way over to Agent Green’s booth. I can’t stand this man, but I need to know exactly what his deal is—what he has on Kirill, and why he’s been stalking him for over a decade.

“He doesn’t go anywhere. Are you sure you put the device on the right car?” Ryan asks me. His eyes are cold, calculating and terrifying.

“I—I think I did,” I stutter.

“Well, since I can’t check for myself, I need you to plant a listening device in his office. You have access, don’t you?” he asks with an evil looking grin on his face.

“If he catches me, he’ll kill me,” I say, trying to sound frightened, which I am.

Not of Kirill.

No, I’m frightened of this man in front of me. How I never saw the depths of his evil, I’ll never know.

“He’ll kill you anyway, Tatyana. Make no mistake about that,” he grunts.

I chew on my bottom lip, trying to come up with a way to move away from this conversation. I need to tell him about the fake meet up tonight. Then I feel his hand cup my cheek. It shocks me, so I pull back, hating his touch. I try to school my features before I look into his eyes. I smile, it’s my stage smile—fake as hell.

“Have you heard anything else I can use then, Tatyana,” he asks, rubbing his thumb across my bottom lip. I try to keep my body calm on the outside, while on the inside I’m shaking.

“I heard him on the phone last night,” I say softly.

Ryan leans in eagerly, keeping his hand on my cheek while his other one lands on my knee and works its way up my thigh. I try to keep from vomiting on him. He’s touching me everywhere, and it’s making my stomach turn with each second that passes.

“What did he say, Tatyana? What did those gorgeous ears hear?”

I gag a little at his words, but try to hide my reaction as I walk my fingers up his chest and wrap my hand around the chest area of his shirt, gripping it with my fingers.

“He said that he would meet whoever it was at midnight tomorrow,” I murmur shakily.

Luckily, acting scared is a piece of cake, since I’m terrified—just not for the reason Ryan thinks I am.

“It’s safe to tell me, Tatyana. I’ll keep you safe. Haven’t I always kept you safe?” he asks. I want to snort. This guy is such a dick. A giant fucking tool.

“You have. I can’t tell you how much I have always appreciated you, Ryan,” I murmur my lies.

“Tell me, Tatyana,” he urges. I expect to see him foaming at the mouth any minute. He’s on the edge of his seat, hanging on by a thread.

“
West 67
th
Street
and
South Gramercy Place
, in some place called…” I act like I can’t remember the neighborhood’s name.

“
Chesterfield
Square
?” he asks, releasing me suddenly and sitting back in his booth. His eyes widen and he just stares at me.

“What is he going to be doing there?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I murmur. “Is it dangerous?”

I’m trying so hard to play dumb, but all I want to do is run from this guy.

“Uh, yeah,” he barks.

“Oh,” I mutter, looking down at my lap.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll make sure to come back to you,” he vows. I swallow the bile down that is threatening to come up before I smile.

“You promise?” I ask.

“Yes. And when I do, we can be together,” he promises with a saccharin smile.

I don’t confirm or deny his words or his promises. Instead, I just smile. I don’t want to say anything else because I honestly don’t want him touching me ever again. I already feel like I need a scalding hot shower to wipe the memory of his touch away from me.

“I have to go. I hope I helped,” I murmur as I stand. He grabs my hand and places something inside.

“You did,
tremendously
. Here, I want this planted in his office. That little switch on the end, flip that over before you set it down,” he grunts. I nod, holding the device tightly in my palm before I turn to leave.

Ryan doesn’t stop me or say another word, but I can feel his eyes on my ass until I disappear backstage. Ziven is waiting for me at the entrance of Semion’s office. I follow him inside, and within two minutes, Alex and Semion have joined us. Semion has confirmation that Agent Green has indeed left.

“He wants me to plant this is Kirill’s office,” I announce, setting the listening device on Semion’s desk.

I quickly slip on the tank top that Ziven hands me. All three men stare at the device for a beat before they start to laugh.

“What a piece of shit. This and him,” Ziven chuckles.

“Why?” I ask.

“This isn’t government issue. This is bought off of eBay or somewhere like that. Who is this guy?” Ziven asks the room.

“Kirill says he has someone working to find out. In the meantime, this device cannot be planted. No telling what he would do with the information. Hopefully, by this time Sunday, the man will no longer be a problem,” Semion mutters.

“I don’t want to know,” I say, holding up my hands.

“You don’t
need
to know, either,” Ziven grunts. “You did great by the way,” he murmurs, giving me a smile.

“Thanks,” I exhale.

“Go home,” Semion orders. I don’t even question him. My body is worn out, completely exhausted from the adrenaline spikes of tonight.

I rush into the dressing room and throw my pants and a sweatshirt on, not even bothering to discard my stage bra, panties, or heels. I just want to go home, crawl into my bed, and curl up next to Kirill’s warm body. Maybe wake him up and kiss him until he makes gentle love to me. Not that gentility happens often with him, but tonight I need it.

“Ready?” Alex asks as I walk out of the dressing room.

“Yeah,” I sigh.

Together we walk out of the club and to the BMW. As soon as we start driving down the freeway, there is a loud honking, and I look back to find myself blinded by the headlights that are practically on top of us.

“Alex,” I cry out.

“Keep your seatbelt in place. Call Kirill, now,” he yells out. I fumble for my phone and press Kirill’s contact.

I put the phone to my ear and listen to it ringing. He should be home with Kiska, that is where I left him. When his voicemail turns on, I call the house. There is no answer there, either.

I look over to Alex, who is concentrating on the road. One glance at the speedometer tells me he needs his concentration because we’ve passed 100 miles per hour a while ago.

I go through my contacts, my fingers shaking until I get to Maxim’s number. Thankful that Kirill added every one of his closest contacts in my phone, I press send.

“’Ello,” he says sleepily. I hear Haleigh’s voice in the background.

“I’m sorry, Maxim. It’s Tatyana,” I say shakily.

“What is wrong?” he asks, sounding much more alert.

“Someone is following us, chasing us down the road. I called Kirill, but he isn’t answering his cell or the house phone. I don’t know where he and Kiska are.” My voice breaks at the end and I start to cry.

“Who is driving?” he barks as I hear rustling on the line.

“Alex,” I say.

“Good. Keep your phone on. I will pull you up on your tracker and I’ll find Kirill,” he orders. “I’ll call back.”

Maxim hangs up the phone and I relay the message to Alex. We drive; we miss our turn off, but I don’t care. Whoever this is, he isn’t slowing down, and he’s starting to weave in and out of traffic. Alex can’t lose him, and I’m shaking so badly I feel like my body is going to start convulsing.

“Maxim said I had a tracker?” I ask after a few minutes.

“Your phone. GPS. We all have access to it, just in case. Kirill wanted to make sure he could find you,” he says.

I feel my stomach drop.
Just in case—just in case I ran again
. I can read through the lines.

“
Nyet,
Tatyana, in case something like this happened,” he informs me. I clamp my mouth shut, irritated that I said that out loud.

There’s a loud crash of metal, a crunching sound, before I hear screaming. I lift one of my arms to clamp over my mouth and the screaming is muffled. That’s when I realize that I’m the one screaming.

I force myself to close my mouth and look around. Alex is hanging in the seat funny and I put my head back and look around to find that we’re facing the wrong way. Cars are coming toward us and swerving, trying not to hit us.

I try to lift my arm to unbuckle my seatbelt, but I can’t move it. I look down and over, noticing that it’s hanging at a really weird angle. It looks broken, but wouldn’t I feel that? Wouldn’t I know that a bone in my body is broken? I wonder.

“Alex,” I croak. He doesn’t move.

“Hold on, darlin’, I called for help. They’re on the way,” a man calls out from my side of the car.

I twist my head to the side to look at him and I’m glad that I don’t recognize him. I’m no fool. I know that Agent Green was following us, for whatever reason.