by D B Steward
“I was going into business for myself. I would think you would be proud,” Ivan said quietly.
A sound like air escaping from a balloon came from the older Petrov’s mouth. “Proud? Proud? How could I be proud of a son who aspires to be a pimp?” His mouth twisted like he had tasted something sour. “I should have strangled you when you slid out of your mother’s cunt.”
Ivan bristled at the remark but Petrov just laughed at the reaction. “Look at you.You only show some backbone when I talk about your mother. Just a little mama’s boy. Little faggot.” Ivan shot up from his chair with his fists balled at his sides but Petrov did not flinch a muscle at the quick action from his son. His lips curled into a grin that held no humor. “Get out of here.” He waved his hand in dismissal. Ivan turned and headed toward the door but when his hand reached the doorknob, Petrov spoke.
“Stay in your little faggoty apartment tonight while I find this bitch who is trying to kill you. If I hear that you went out, I’ll kill you myself.” Ivan refused to turn and acknowledge his father as he opened the door and stepped outside, slamming it behind him. Petrov looked at the door and chuckled after his worthless son.
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She had fallen asleep, mentally exhausted from thinking about all her problems—problems she knew that she was wholly responsible for. It was around eight at night according to her phone. Kelly rubbed her face as she tried to wake up. She was going to tail Ivan Popov tonight in hopes that Sonny would be doing the same thing. It was her only option; the woman was just too good at flying under the radar and the only way Kelly was going to find her was if Sonny showed herself.
With a tired groan, she dragged herself out of bed and staggered to her closet. Kelly needed to find something to wear that was appropriate for a club. Normally, her daily wardrobe consisted of jeans and either a T-shirt or a sweatshirt. She was not a skirt and heels type of girl and was aware that she was playing into the whole lesbian stereotype because of her limited wardrobe selection. Finding nothing hanging in the closet, she decided to wear the dress she had worn the other night when she was working. She lifted it off her floor and shook it loose to inspect it. Deciding that it was not that wrinkled, she laid it on her bed and headed to her bathroom.
“Time for the warpaint,” she muttered to herself as she got her makeup ready and stepped in front of the mirror. After twenty minutes, she checked her handiwork and felt that she had sufficiently ‘slutted’ herself up enough in order to blend in with all the other club patrons tonight. She slipped her dress on and walked to her bed where her phone lay.
Kelly scrolled through her few contacts until she reached Reggie Burns. They had trained together in Quantico and graduated in the same class. They had hit it off right away and became fast friends. Reggie had a crush on her when they first met but Kelly was quick to shut him down by informing him that she was gay, but instead of heading for the hills when he found out that he could not get into her pants, Reggie had stuck around. They studied together, hung out together, and he was the only person from the FBI that remained a friend to her when she had flushed her career down the toilet.
Reggie was stationed way out in Idaho working white supremacist groups. It was just the kind of posting that a large black man born from a rough neighborhood in Philadelphia would love. He got a kick out of busting the racists and seeing their reactions when they saw him behind his FBI badge. She calculated the time zone difference and hoped she would catch him while he was still at his office. She dialed and waited as the phone rang.
A deep male voice answered the phone. “Bitch, why you calling me at work?” Reggie said right away when he picked up.
“Hoe, who you think you talking to?” Kelly said in an exaggerated high voice. “You better not be in bed with that trick-ass bitch, motherfucker!” She held back her chuckle. They were as close as brother and sister and had always been able to speak to each other any way they wanted to without fear of offending the other person.
“Aw, you know that baby mama ain’t shit to me. You always gonna be my number one hoe!” Reggie’s voice was syrupy sweet and Kelly could not hold back her laughter anymore and broke into giggles.
“Hey, Reg, what’s up?” She smiled into the phone.
She heard his deep booming laughter on the other end. “Working. Man, why did I want to be a Fed again? I didn’t know there would be so much paperwork. I thought I’d just be blasting fools.”
“Ha! You love it.”
“What do you need, Kel?” Reggie got to the point right away.
Kelly sighed. “I need you to look something up for me.”
“You only call me when you want something, and you always want something.” She heard him exhale into his phone.
“Calm down, Reg, it’s just a teeny weeny favor.”
“It’s always a teeny weeny favor with you. You never take me out anymore.”
“You live all the way in Bumblefuck, Idaho. What am I supposed to do? Hop on a plane and we can hang out at the fancy Arby’s up there?”
“They have a mean Big Beef and Cheddar up here.” She could hear the smile in his voice and it made her realize how much she truly missed her old buddy. “What do you want me to do?”
“I need to find out what club Ivan Popov hangs out at.”
“You know I could get in trouble for this.” She heard his fingers working on his keyboard. He always said the same thing whenever she asked him for a favor like this, but he always came through for her. “Who the fuck is Ivan Popov?” he asked as his fingers continued to click away.
“Russian mob boss’s son. Real scumbag.”
“Russians, huh? Watch yourself, Kelly, these guys don’t fuck around.” She heard his voice turn serious.
“You know that I can take care of myself,” she countered.
“I’m serious, Kelly. Those guys play for keeps.”
“I’ll be careful, Reggie.” Her tone shifted as well; she knew he would always worry about her safety. He had not approved of the profession she had chosen after her release from prison. Reggie felt that she could do better for herself than become a bounty hunter for sketchy individuals. He did not understand her state of mind when she was released from prison, how depressed and defeated she had felt. Working just outside of the law felt just like what she deserved after dishonoring the agency and herself like she had.
“You better,” he mumbled. “Okay, Ivan Popov owns a nightclub called, get this, American Dreams! I bet it took him a few days to think up that one.”
“Yuck. But not surprising if you had seen how cheesy this guy’s Instagram posts are.”
“I can imagine,” he scoffed. “Listen, Kels, watch your back.”
“You already said that.”
“I mean it. These guys are serious killers. They’ll shoot you just to see if their gun is loaded. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Now when have I ever done anything stupid?” She heard his sharp intake of breath signaling that he was about to say something but she cut him off with a laugh. “Don’t answer that. I won’t do anything dumb, Reg. I’m not even after him, I’m just using him as bait to catch someone that is chasing him.”
Reggie blew out a long breath. “What have you got yourself into? When are you going to get a real job?”
She waved her free hand out in front of her, indicating her modest apartment as if he could see it on the other end of the line. “What? And give up all this?”
“Just be careful. Remember, you’re my favorite fuck up.”
“Yes, Papa.” She rolled her eyes. “I gotta go.”
“Okay, Kelly, but call me once in a while.” She could hear the worry in his voice.
“I will, soon as I get some free time.”
“Don’t bullshit a bullshit artist. I mean it, Kelly, let me know how you’re doing, okay?”
She felt guilty for not being a better friend to him,
and not for the first time. “I will. I know I suck at keeping in touch.”
“You got that right.”
“I really have to go now. I’ll talk to you later, Reg,” she said quickly. “Oh, and thanks.”
“Anytime, Kels.” With that, she ended the call. Reggie was always looking out for her like the big brother she never had. He did not deserve to be used like this. She sighed and wondered why she treated people the way she did. Why was it so hard for her to find someone and just have a healthy relationship? Who am I kidding? She sighed as she picked up her keys and prepared to leave. A relationship like that was out of the cards for her. She would just end up ruining everything like always. Her version of the Midas touch made everything she touched turn to shit. With a final frown, she turned her light off and exited her apartment.
Chapter Six
She moved through the crowd silently like a shark hunting for its prey as the dark club pulsed with neon lights and the throbbing beat of electronic drums. The place was packed with people dancing far too close to each other and allowing their hands to explore what the shadowy club would not allow their eyes to see.
The tall redhead blended in perfectly with the mass of humanity that filled the American Dreams club. Sonny expertly avoided the men that tried to navigate their way to her through the crowd, trying to get the attention of the stunning redhead with the high cheekbones. She was not there tonight for just any man, however; she had a particular man in mind. Under the red wig she wore, her dark eyes hunted for her target while scoping out possible threats and distractions.
Besides the standard bouncers, there was no security presence inside the club. No security meant no Ivan, and no Ivan meant a wasted night. But Sonny would be staying until last call even if he did not show up. If she was not able to get to him tonight, she would at least be able to scout out the area. Sonny had already investigated the bathrooms and found that both the men’s and women’s rooms did not have a way for her to escape after she had killed Ivan.
Just then, she caught sight of a man with a ridiculous-looking bun heading straight for her and it took all the strength she could muster to keep her eyes from rolling. He had a perfectly manicured beard of stubble and his bun was tied tightly atop his head like a golf ball on a tee. The product in his hair made it shiny enough to reflect the flashing lights of the club, reminding Sonny of a disco ball. He was attempting to dazzle her with his smile that showed every single one of his perfect pearly white teeth. Sonny was sort of impressed by his ability to walk in jeans that were so tight that they appeared to be spray painted on. He wore a button-down shirt with a corduroy blazer that was way too heavy for a crowded club like this. He must be boiling in that thing, Sonny thought with a disbelieving smirk. He was carrying a drink that Sonny could not identify. It appeared to be some kind of orange-colored concoction with a cinnamon stick in it. She almost snorted at the sight of it and then cursed herself for looking amused. Sonny could see in his eyes that he thought she was giving him a flirtatious smile and not laughing at his pretentiousness.
“You know, people joke that gingers have no soul, but your eyes tell a very different story. I’m Ken.” Of course you are, Sonny thought as she fought back a second eye roll. Sonny could see that he was waiting for her to say something but this time, she would not give him any indication that he stood a chance with her. He cleared his throat nervously. “And you are…?”
Sonny blew out a breath. “Katie,” she said without interest as her eyes continued to scan the area.
“Hey, Ken and Katie! It’s kismet!” This time, she did roll her eyes. Whenever she went out in public, Sonny had a fake identity prepared. This time, the name Katie Laughlin had bitten her in the ass because somehow the man bun believed that a shared letter K in their names mean they were destined to be together.
“Please go away.” Sonny leveled her eyes directly into Ken’s, making him nervous.
“I just wanted to buy you a drink,” he muttered uncertainly almost under his breath.
“I don’t want it.” Her voice dropped an octave as her frustration began to grow. “Go. Away.”
“Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Let me just start over.” He gave a forced laugh and Sonny slammed her palm down hard on the small table, causing Ken to jump.
“If you don’t leave, I will punch you in your trachea. Your windpipe will be crushed and you will struggle to get air into your lungs. Your lips will start to turn purple from the lack of oxygen and your eyes will begin to bug out. You will become light-headed and drop to your knees while you start clawing at your throat. The last thing you will see as your vision starts to go black is my face looking very disinterested at your impending death. Then you will pass away and leave the world with one less man bun.” Her voice was emotionless and measured, and Ken heard every word even though the music continued to blast loudly in the club. His mouth hung open and without a word, he slowly backed away from the table with his eyes wide open in fear. She continued to stare him down while he stumbled and spilled his drink on his comical corduroy blazer. With one final, fearful glance, he spun on his feet and melted quickly into the crowd.
Sonny continued to scan the club as she deleted any memory of Ken the Hipster from her mind. There was still no sign of Ivan but she did notice that there was some kind of movement starting in the VIP section. She began to make her way over to the area with her drink in hand. There were two security guards there, one of them setting down a bucket of champagne and a few glass flutes, the other taking up position in front of the velvet ropes. Sonny adopted a drunken gait and plastered a bleary-eyed look on her face. She fixed a smile on her face and stumbled into the guard at the ropes.
“Hey, who’s coming?” She giggled into the guard’s chest. “Is it somebody famous? Can I meet him?”
The guard lightly pushed her back and away from him. “Fuck off,” he said before resuming his position and staring off into the distance, scanning the crowd for anyone who would disturb the arriving VIP. She wobbled on her heels and flipped him the bird, before stumbling back toward the bar.
Perhaps the night wasn’t going to be a waste after all.
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Places like American Dreams always made Kelly feel self-conscious. Normally, she did not give much thought to how she looked or other people’s opinion of her looks, but being in a club with dozens of women who looked like they were on their way to a Victoria’s Secret fashion show, however, made her feel a little plain. Still, she thought she cannot be too unattractive because she did catch a couple glances coming her way from a few men and women. She really did not want to dip into her meager cash reserve to buy a drink, considering she was carrying all the money she had in the world in her little purse. She sighed as she finally reached the bar and waited for the bartender. Nobody wants to try hitting on me by buying me a drink, huh? That’s okay, I’m here to work and not hook up with anyone, she told herself unconvincingly.
Kelly was just about to wave her hands to get the bartender’s attention when she was bumped into from behind. “Hey! Watch it, asshole!” she barked as she turned to see the man who had jostled her. He wore a man bun and dressed like he was an old college professor even though he could not have been more than twenty-five years old.
“Sorry!” Man Bun said in an annoyed tone. “God! What is with you women tonight? Are you all part of some psycho killer cult?”
“No, we just hate man buns.” She rolled her eyes and started to turn back to the bartender when Man Bun mumbled something that she could not make out. “What did you say, asshole?”
“I said you and that bitch over there should get together. You’re both nuts!” He pointed behind him before he angrily stormed off and Kelly watched him go before she casually looked in the direction he had motioned. There was a crowd in front of her but it seemed to part for a moment allowing her to spot a redhead standing nea
r a small table near the back wall.
“What can I get you?” the bartender called from over her shoulder. She turned to face him, not really seeing him and her mouth hanging open in shock. “Hey. Do you want a drink or not?”
“Uh.” She was blinking rapidly, trying to get her brain back in gear. “Gimme a Martini,” she said absentmindedly before she turned back to the redhead. It was her. It was Sonny. Kelly was FBI, well ex-FBI, and she had been trained to spot suspects even when they tried to disguise themselves and although Sonny was wearing a wig, Kelly was not fooled at all. She would recognize those cheekbones anywhere. God, she is even more stunning in real life. Kelly moaned. She was able to see Sonny’s entire body for the first time and a wave of attraction flowed through her. The bartender returned with her drink and Kelly fished out a twenty from her purse like a zombie and placed it on the bar. The bartender raised an eyebrow at her but took the twenty and left swiftly. She’s your target, Kelly. You’re here to bring her in, not take her out on a date. “But why did she have to be so hot?” Kelly whined out loud and grabbed her Martini and gulped some of it down. Time to be professional, Kelly. She pouted and made her way toward Sonny through the crowd.
Her target was sweeping the area with her eyes covertly. No one would even notice that she was casing the place if they were not paying attention. This woman was good. Kelly kept telling herself she had to keep herself calm so her demeanor would not spook her quarry before she got close. Kelly saw Sonny look her over as she drew near and her breath hitched. Did Sonny just check me out? Kelly was getting a little warm thinking that maybe Sonny was looking at her in that way. Kelly gave her a sultry smile as she got closer and this time she definitely caught Sonny giving her the eye. Calm down, Kelly, this is business. She had a job to do. Besides, what are the odds that Sonny was a lesbian or even into women at all? Even Kelly would not gamble on that. Here goes nothing. She took a deep breath and approached the table. Kelly put her drink down on the table and tried to flash her most dazzling smile. “Hi.” Her voice shook a little. Get a grip, Kelly! “Mind if I rest here for a minute? Too much dancing! I’m not as young as I used to be. I can’t keep up anymore.”