21
TRISTAN
Mathis dropped me off at the red double doors of the Sanctuary. I’d been to many of the clubs, but I was a virgin to the Paris location. I knew Wood would be anxious to greet me and introduce me around, but the only thing on my mind tonight was getting an audience with Nikolai Usenko. According to Wood, Usenko’s bodyguard, Naz, had confirmed he would be in attendance tonight. And since the American shadow broker selling to him had yet to show himself, I was about to play a risky game of truth or dare.
Stepping through the front doors, I knew the drill. Since I’d never patronized the Paris club, I’d need to stop and check my name off the list before entering. Then, after surrendering my cell phone, I’d be free look around. Tonight there’d be no three-way and drugs. Tonight, I was all business.
“Hello Mr. Bleu. Good evening.” The first blonde hostess welcomed me in English. I assumed Wood marked the nationality of his patrons on the list, allowing the girls to greet appropriately. I was taken aback, not because of that, but because it was the first time in seventy-two hours anyone had referred to me as Mr. Bleu.
The second held out her palm for my phone. Willingly, I handed it over with a smile, placing the gilded mask over my face while I waited for the double doors manned by the usual meatheads to open.
Inside, it was crowded—a little more so than the usual monthly New Orleans get-together. The décor was a perfect match to the other clubs around the world. White and red.
I started by taking a glass of champagne from a tray ushered around the room by a woman with a long blonde ponytail wearing nothing but black stockings, heels and leather shackles on her wrists. Her face was covered in a drape of black fringe that seemed to grow directly from her head.
One sip and I knew Wood had taken my advice. We were in Paris after all. The Parisians wouldn’t stand for anything less than the best champagne—Champagne Lebleu.
From behind he whispered. “Monsieur Lebleu, I’m so glad you could join us this evening.”
“Thank God you finally got some decent champagne in here, Wood.”
“Only the best for my French patrons.”
I ignored his comment, scanning the room. “Anyone show yet?”
“Patience, my friend. Patience. They will be here.”
I turned to face him. “Where have I heard that before?”
“I can’t help it if my patrons back out at the last moment. I do what I can to accommodate them, just as I’m accommodating you.”
“You accommodate me because I pay you well and I keep the feds off your doorstep. You know, some old guys in Washington may find your club to be lewd and on the fringes of sex trafficking.”
Wood didn’t look my way, but answered all the same. “You’re giving yourself too much credit, my friend. I was in business before you. I’ll be here after you’re finished using my club, because I don’t trust anyone—including you.” He brought his eyes to meet mine, staring through my mask. “You shouldn’t either.”
“Wood.”
“Enjoy yourself tonight, Tristan. And by the way, I believe you have a visitor here looking for you.”
I didn’t answer but began scanning the room for Naz and his boss. It was family night at the Sanctuary. My uncle, Nikolai Usenko, just didn’t know it yet.
I passed through the open doors of the first room and into the second. A performance on a dining room table had begun and I stopped to watch as had fifteen or so others. A male performer with a half mask, a leather cloth covering his nearly exposed dick and bull horns on his head, was lightly brushing the bare asses of four naked women perched on all fours with a leather whip. Turning one around, he kissed her breasts, grabbing between her legs. The other three women converged on the act, caressing the bull in the center as he readied himself for the final scene of their play. The woman worked every part of his body and the club members around the table watched, caressing each other over their clothes. Others slid their hands up their female companion’s dresses as the women parted their legs to take a wider stance in their formal gowns.
I turned my head, ready to walk away—ready to look for Naz and Usenko.
And there she was. In the corner, tucked away from the swarm of sexual activity unfolding before her. Dressed in white silk, she looked like an angel. Her hair was down, the soft brown waves cascading over her exposed cleavage. She was wearing more than a dress—she wearing an open invitation. By the look on her face, it was addressed to me.
I went to her, shoving my hands in my pockets to tame my straining manhood. Taking her by the elbow, I led her away from the dining room table and to something the Sanctuary had plenty of—a dark, secluded corner. “Henry?”
“Oui.”
I took a deep breath. “What in the—”
“What am I doing here?”
I looked around to see if anyone was watching us. “Yes.” I took a beat. “Are you a… member?”
“No.”
I gazed at her, my face blank with confusion.
“I knew you were a member.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry from surprise. “You came because of me?”
The darkness of Henry’s eyes lulled me into a warm and comfortable place. Looking away, I refocused only to find her soft, smooth breasts and hard nipples beckoning me to free them from the single layer of silk.
“I didn’t like the way things ended between us. I wanted to straighten the record.”
I couldn’t stop my half-cocked grin. “You mean set the record straight.”
“Yes. Oui.” She wasn’t as amused as I was.
“Look, Henry,” I said, turning her back to the party so I could watch the crowd over her shoulder. “I want to square things with you as well. But tonight isn’t a good time.”
“Do you have plans to bed a woman here? Tonight?”
Her question caught me off guard. “What? No. Why would you think that?”
“Isn’t everyone here planning on having sex tonight?”
I scanned the room again, watching for Naz or Usenko. “I see your point.”
“There’s something you must know, Tristan.”
Across the room, Wood raised his eyebrows at me.
“It’s about your brother.”
Wood’s clandestine gesture was my signal that Usenko had arrived. Holding up one finger I looked back to Henry. “Hold that thought.”
Joining Wood across the room, he took me by the shoulders. “Naz says he’s cagey tonight. Whatever it is you want to speak with him about, this may not be the time.”
I gave Wood a pat on the shoulder. The less he knew about what I was up to, the better.
When I saw Naz and Usenko walk into the next room, I hurried to catch up. I needed to speak with him before Nikolai found himself on the receiving end of oral sex in one of the private rooms.
“Nik,” I said, touching him on the shoulder.
The square-jawed Russian held many Slavic features—features I didn’t share with him. He wasn’t too tall and his pale skin only accentuated the deep eyes of a man I knew to be ruthless. A skilled and ruthless gatherer of intel, he’d been known to kill anyone who fed him misinformation, led him on a goose chase or made him look bad to his superiors at the SVR. On the inside he was loyal to mother Russia. On the outside, he looked and spoke like any other American citizen. Any other American citizen who happened to be my family.
He shook my outstretched hand. “Tristan.”
I looked at him with new eyes. Whether I liked it or not—Nikolai and I were family.
“I missed you in New Orleans last week. I thought we were going to have a moment to speak.”
“I was called away,” Usenko said as his bodyguard Naz stepped in closer, protecting him from me.
I nodded. “I hoped we might find a moment to chat tonight. I have what you’re looking for.”
Usenko looked around the room and smiled. A gold molar glimmered in the red light of the room. “What makes you think I’m looking for anything, Tristan? I’m just here to have a good time like everyone else.”
I leaned in. It was now or never. “Look, you think you know who I am, but I might surprise you. I have what you need and I’m willing to make a deal.”
He scoffed and I switched to Russian, letting him know I was fully aware we shared a family and that the codes he’d received from his shadow broker were outdated. “Vasha informatsiya ustarela. And by the way, it’s good to see you, Uncle.”
A subtle shift in his brow let me know I had him. “Prodolzhat,” he said, asking me to continue.
“Not here. The Sanctuary. New Orleans. Three days. I’m having a private party. Invitation only. Family only.”
I started to walk away. Usenko subtly grabbed me by the arm, pulling me back into the conversation. “We’re finished when I say we’re finished.”
Glaring into his eyes, I wanted him to know I respected his position, but I wasn’t afraid of him or his goon, Nazimi.
Usenko leaned in to whisper in my ear. I bristled. “You should be careful, Tristan Lebleu. I know all about you.”
Pulling myself from his grip, I looked him in the face once more, now believing more than ever that Nikolai Usenko was aware of our shared history. “I know all about you, too, Dyadya. Three days.”
I walked away from them, my heart pounding, my head charged with the kind of adrenaline rush only known to calculated killers. I was completely amped, yet filled with quiet reserve.
Taking a breath, I scanned the room for Henry. I’d spent the day thinking of her, and like a mirage in the desert she appeared as if I’d placed her at the Sanctuary party myself. My body coursed with adrenaline and I wanted a release of epic proportions. A shared sexual release with Henry.
The body buffet was finishing up on the large dining table in the center of the room and as the crowd dispersed, Henry was nowhere to be found.