DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 1 Read online

  associated with it anyway. Most here tonight were simply out for a good time. At least

  this was Nero’s and not one of the other clubs.

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  He closed his eyes for a moment before turning to the hallway, guarded by two

  men he personally thought of as Pit and Bull. Their jackets did little to cover the holsters

  or the semi automatic weapons harnessed there. But who the hell was he to raise a brow

  at weapons. His SIG Sauer P226 was in his own shoulder holster beneath his suit jacket.

  His skin itched with the knowledge that something was up. He didn’t even look at

  them as he walked down the hallway. The black door at the end was marked “private”.

  Dimitri ignored this and shoved the door open, walking into the dark office. A low

  light spilled from a lamp on the desk. The tall leather chair was turned away from him,

  facing the large picture window which overlooked the floor of the club below.

  “What took so long?” Viktor asked, not turning.

  “I was otherwise….” Dimitri paused, “engaged.”

  Viktor scoffed. “Were you? Hope she gave you a good time, my friend.”

  Dimitri chose not to answer Instead, he walked to stand at the edge of the window

  looking at the melee below. They reminded him of chaotic ants. Too much confusion.

  “Nice profit tonight.”

  “Yes,” Dimitri answered without turning his head The man was reflected in the

  glass. No one could see them For a viewer below the window looked like a giant wall of

  mirrors that only reflected the dancing, blinking scene back to the revelers. He glanced at

  the man sitting in the chair, his hands, one holding a glass of vodka, resting on the arms.

  They both stared out at the scene below them. Dimitri waited. He never pressed

  for details, never asked. Questioning, in his opinion, led to others questioning him.

  Questions often gave more away than silence. And silence, he had learned, was more

  rewarding.

  He watched as one man and woman screwed in the shadows against the wall. The

  bouncers and guards didn’t notice. Even if they had, nothing would happen.

  Peopled gyrated on the dance floor, to him, they all looked the same. A sea of

  black ants. Drugs, sex, booze--just a good time, they’d say.

  If they only knew.

  “I have a job for you,” Hellinski said.

  Music from below barely pulsed through the floor There was a soft vibration from

  the base, but that was it. Dimitri knew these rooms were sound proof.

  As was the rest of the building.

  People came to play downstairs and some went upstairs and to the adjoining

  building for a different taste in entertainment that had little to do with dancing. It was

  only one of the many businesses that Dimitri helped his boss oversee.

  These days he was usually absent, only called in for specific jobs.

  Dimitri waited in silence again.

  “Tis annoying habit you have, Dimitri. Silence. I don’t like silence. I’ve killed

  others for their arrogance, you know.”

  “Yes, I know.” And he had been the ones to put the bullet in many of them.

  “And I’m aware I’m not the only one who gives you orders.”

  He kept looking at the dancers and party goers below. He saw a group of young

  men slip something--probably roofies--into the drinks of their dates.

  “No, sir. You told me when I was brought in that I would answer to Elianya as

  well as to you.”

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  The older man grunted and Dimitri turned to study him. Viktor did his Slavic

  ancestors proud. Wide slanted eyes, like those of a lion watched him from their amber

  depths. Viktor’s nose was slightly crooked, broken God only knows how many times.

  Scars slashed across the right side of his elongated face. The ash blond hair was pulled

  back in a queue. The man was one of the most feared in the Prague underground and in

  time, Dimitri knew, he himself would be on Viktor’s hitlist. It was simply the way the

  game was played.

  Those amber eyes narrowed on him, even as Viktor straightened in his chair and

  pulled at the maroon silk shirt he wore. “Tell me what you would do if I ordered you to

  kill someone you might not want to.”

  Dimitri merely arched a brow. What game was the man setting into motion now?

  He walked to the sideboard, reached into the small refrigerator and pulled out a

  frozen glass. The vodka poured in smoothly He set the decanter aside and turned back to

  his boss, sipping the clear liquid.

  “When do I learn the name of this … problem?” Someone he wouldn’t want to

  kill? His pulse sped. No way the man could know. Dimitri glanced at him as he sat in the

  chair to the side of the desk, his back against the wall, facing the rest of the room.

  Viktor frowned and propped his left ankle on his right knee, his foot bouncing.

  “Perhaps,” Dimitri ventured, “the person is not one that I might have a problem

  eliminating?”

  Those eyes snapped back to him. Silence settled between them. “Perhaps.”

  Dimitri nodded. And waited.

  With a curse, muttering of whores, Viktor stood, his hands clasped behind his

  back as he stared again out the window.

  Apparently someone had angered Mr. Hellinski. Not wise, but then who was he to

  complain?

  On a deep breath, the other man shook his head. “Come back tomorrow night. I

  will give you a name then. And I want it done as soon as possible.”

  It was Dimitri’s turn to frown. Why the hesitancy?

  “Hellinski.” When the man faced him, he said, “You’re a hard man, with a

  business to oversee and protect, and as far as friends go, I consider you one.”

  Viktor smiled, his scared face more distorted. “And I you, Dimitri. And I you.”

  “You don’t like people to cross you.” Dimitri stared at him. “And you have no

  mercy for those who betray you.”

  Viktor inclined his head.

  “I’m of the same mind.” Dimitri stood, set the glass down.

  Viktor’s eyes widened in shock. “You think I would betray you?”

  Dimitri smiled. “For enough money, yes.”

  Viktor laughed, but they both knew the words to be true.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

  Viktor nodded. “You’re right on what you said of betrayal. I’ll give you the name

  night after tomorrow, as I just recalled I have a prior engagement. I do want the job

  finished within the next week.”

  Dimitri strode out of the office, seemingly not paying any more attention to

  anyone than when he walked in.

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  He slapped Ivan on the arm as he walked out of the club and put his head down

  against the cold autumn wind. He waited for a cab, noting that Ivan took out a cell phone

  and made a call.

  * * * *

  She set the phone aside and bit on her thumb nail. Now what? Damn it all to hell.

  She had not worked this hard to see it all go up in flames. Not now.

  One stupid mistake.

  But she held the cards. She knew she held the winning hand.

  Kill someone that Dimitri might object to?

  She chuckled. For all the hard won reputation, for all the crimes the man had

  committed, all the lives he had taken, she knew Mr. Petrolov for what he really was.

  A s
avior of the weak, a champion of the downtrodden.

  The Reaper? More like The Saint.

  Oh, he killed all right. And Elianya Hellinski had no doubt that when her brother

  ordered her hit, Dimitri Petrolov--or so he was called--would not hesitate in carrying out

  that order. And probably enjoy doing it.

  Things had not ended well with them. Damn the man, they could have ruled and

  created their own dynasty if he’d only listened to her.

  But no. Elianya was a good fuck, but nothing more. Fine. She’d had others turn

  her down. Of course they were all dead. And he would be as well.

  Pity though, the man was the best lover she’d ever had. But a woman had to do

  what a woman had to do And if the bastard didn’t want her, that would be his loss. No

  man, no matter how much he amused her, would reject her. Period. She simply didn’t

  allow that.

  Besides, if he lived, he might be a problem. Might? She sighed. If Dimitri

  Petrolov was anything--it was a threat. And she knew without a doubt that Mr. Petrolov

  would kill her in a split second if he found out what she was really doing. For all his

  darkness and fear, the man was one of the most honorable she’d ever met. It was very sad.

  Honor was well and good in certain aspects--but in business, business where millions

  could be made, no. She had no use for the likes of him. Besides, she’d given the man his

  chance and he’d turned her down.

  Ball-less wonders. Women were, without a doubt the stronger, more driven sex.

  Men waited on orders, let too many things tie their damn hands.

  No one tied her hands. No one. Not Dimitri, not Vicktor, not any man.

  Her heels clicked as she paced her office, the hardwood floors gleaming.

  Stopping, she looked out the window, over the inky black waters of the Vltava

  River. She loved the nights. The night was the only time the truth shone in this world.

  People hid behind daylight.

  She grinned. And in daylight she would make certain it happened.

  Walking back to her mahogany desk, she sat down, and clicked on the address

  she’d paid dearly for. And if this failed, there was always a back up. One should always

  be prepared.

  Time to hire her own enforcer and make certain that at the end of the night, she

  was the one left standing.

  * * * *

  DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 12

  New York

  The Raven clicked her way through wasting time as she waited for her flight,

  reading headlines via the internet.

  Her heart still slammed against her chest, but she knew enough to go slowly, to

  stay calm.

  The last job had gone smooth as butter, and all the better for it.

  Her eyes skimmed down the page, reading the weather reports. Good thing she

  was leaving New York and flying back home to Dublin. A storm was blowing in and she

  had no wish to stay here longer than necessary. Already her flight was delayed. It would

  be early tomorrow morning when she arrived. She sighed.

  An icon popped on screen for Raven. Three messages.

  She wanted to open them, but it was hardly safe. Not here. There were high

  powered cameras all over airports these days. Though perhaps many would call her

  paranoid, she preferred the term cautious. Caution had saved her life more times than she

  cared to count and she wouldn’t toss it aside now.

  Once on the plane, however, she pulled the computer back out and clicked on her

  mailbox. The return address was probably as bogus as the one she herself created, but it

  served its purpose.

  B-Widow only had one thing to say.

  I’ve a job for you.

  Raven closed her eyes and leaned back against the soft, plush, first class seats.

  The black Atlantic thousands of feet below didn’t sooth her.

  Nothing soothed her these days.

  Nothing.

  She took a drink of her ginger ale.

  Perhaps it was time to call it quits.

  God knew she had enough bloody money she never had to do another thing in her

  life again.

  And yet….

  She was good at what she did. Never one to mince words, she knew she was damn

  good.

  But she rarely took jobs back to back. Not wise.

  And yet….

  Something called to her.

  Since the fiasco two years ago, she demanded names and information, gathering

  her own before she ever agreed to take on a mark.

  A little unorthodox to some, especially to her trainer, Nikko.

  But it was what she did and the way she preferred doing things.

  After all, she didn’t want some innocent man to die just because an ex-wife was

  pissed at him. She might kill for a living, but she had her own code of ethics, though most

  would never see them.

  What the hell.

  She set the glass aside and typed a reply back to B-Widow, wondering who,

  wondering what, how much and wondering what excitement this next job would bring

  her.

  DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 13

  DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 14

  CHAPTER TWO

  Prague; October 30; 5:00 p.m.

  Elianya paced the confines of her office She could hear the girls chattering in the

  studio. With a glance she doubled back. Knocking, she motioned to the photographer to

  get on with it. She wasn’t paying him to stand still. He had a job to do.

  One girl, her bright red hair pulled in tight braids stood sucking a lollipop. The

  new fluffer. Eliyana sighed. She paced, waiting for the call to come through and it damn

  well better. She had yet to hear anything.

  A tingle of apprehension made her pause and look out the window at the

  warehouses that surrounded her. She’d been told to leave Dimitri Petrolov alone.

  “He’s to be left as is. You take him out and all hell will break loose.”

  “You’re to make certain that doesn’t happen.”

  Silence answered her. “It might be possible.” Another pause. “Do not act until I

  give you the go-ahead. Understand?”

  “Of course,” she lied.

  She would do what she had to, regardless of what her contact thought or wanted.

  Elianya wasn’t stupid, the contact was merely covering their own ass. She checked her

  email once more to see if Raven had answered her, but as yet, her box sat empty. Damn.

  Elianya tapped her nails against her teeth. No matter. If Raven didn’t get back to her,

  she’d just get Ivan to carry out her order.

  Sighing and wishing she could find someone who actually did what they were

  hired to do, she walked out of her office and into the studio.

  Girls of various ages and looks stood dressed in their costumes. Perfectly legal to

  photograph a layout for a new costume pattern company.

  And even if it wasn’t, this was Prague. Anything could be bought.

  The music, normally a whiteout noise, screeched against her nerves. She walked

  over to the large boombox and shut it off. Looking at the clock, she saw the time.

  “Let me see what you have so far, Leos,” she told the photographer.

  He motioned her over to the computer set in the corner and said to the girls, “Do

  not go anywhere. We’re not finished. I want more of the school girl shots, and Rada, stay

  in the nurse costume. Someone is coming by later.”

  Elianya looked at Leos and wondered again if the
man were gay or if he just

  wasn’t interested in her. She’d never pushed it. It was so hard to find a great photographer

  who didn’t go off into artistic flights.

  He sat behind the desk, popped his camera in a base and tapped his long, white

  fingers over keys. His hair was trimmed short, his triangular face devoid of mustache or

  beard. A diamond winked from his right earlobe and gold linked across his almost fragile

  wrists.

  Unlike her last photographer, Leos was so clean, he could have been religious.

  Hell, maybe he was. She’d never seen him drink, he allowed no drugs on set and if a girl

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  was too high to perform, he sent her home.

  Leos was not only her photographer for their little side venture, he was also the

  studios legitimate photographer for both the ad layouts and other modeling agencies. He

  was talented and driven--a damn genius. Two reasons, Elianya saw, to keep him on.

  She watched the photos pop up on screen. Leaning down, her arm against the back

  of his chair, her hand splayed on the desktop, she caught his stolen glance down her

  cleavage.

  Elianya turned to him and grinned. Let him look, she’d paid enough for these

  babies. Well, technically, Viktor had paid for them.

  She focused on the photos, nixed the ones she didn’t care for, told him some

  changes to make in positions. While his fingers tapped the keys and he moved the mouse,

  she leaned down and whispered in his ear.

  “I have another job for you. Are you interested?”

  His fingers paused over the keys. “Perhaps. What job?”

  She thought about what to tell him. He probably wouldn’t do it. For a man who

  thought of photography as an art, Leos was undeniably stiff. Even if he did film porns on

  the side.“I’ve some new clients and girls I’d like to shoot.”

  He looked at her and asked, “How old?”

  She let her gaze roam over the gaggle of women and young ladies here. She knew

  most of them were college age, some didn’t care and only wanted the money. A few

  worked in the public clubs that were above ground for the most part. But two, two were

  in the corner and very quiet. Those two were hers. They spoke to no one and merely sat

  staring at the wall.

  “Younger than anything here,” she whispered.