Bjarke arrived at the club early, hoping to talk to the girl again before she started her stage show. He also thought maybe he could avoid drinking too much if he didn’t come in too late. He could handle it, no problem. But that had been two hours and eight shots ago.
He had no desire to dig too deep and face his personal demons. As far as he was concerned, his demons minded their business and he minded his. He didn’t have time or patience for rehab, and no way was he taking time off for it just to have some other young punk show him up at the gym and fuck with his boxing career. Of course, that was assuming he still had one after missing yet another training session today. Fucking hangovers.
“Hey,” he said as he waved a waitress down, the same one that had served him the last time he’d been there. “Get me another shot and a beer.”
“Sure, sweetie.” She turned and headed back toward the bar, making sure to put a little extra sumthin-sumthin in the swing of her hips. This guy was a good tipper so the order that was put in right before his could wait. Lilly figured that he may have been all about Helena the other night, but she was long gone now. Might as well help him see the error of his ways and show him that there were other, more gratifying ways to spend his time.
When she got back, Bjarke patted the chair beside him. She glanced around furtively before sitting down. Her job was to waitress, not converse with customers, but hey, good tippers got special treatment. She had no problem with that, but she also knew better than to put her job at risk by pissing Sambro off.
“What’s up?” she smiled, placing her hand on his leg. When he didn’t object, she walked her fingers a little higher until she reached the area of his thigh just shy of his groin, and squeezed the muscles. “God, mmm, you’re so hard,” she said, smiling suggestively.
“The girl I was talking to when I was in here last week, is she working tonight?”
The waitress leaned in like they were sharing a secret. “She didn’t come in. Personally, I don’t think she’s coming back. I heard the girls in the dressing room talking and they said they hadn’t seen her since that guy threatened Sambro out back because of her. He was talking crazy about how she didn’t owe him any more money and he was tired of Sambro ripping her off. He’s some bigtime Bratva fighter and it scared the shit out of Sammy. Were you looking to hook up with her? You’re probably wasting your time, I think she must be doing that fighter guy.”
She rubbed his thigh, letting her fingertips graze his semi-erect cock. “And she ain’t coming back. I wish my Prince Charming would come and rescue me from this dump. I’d be so grateful, I’d fuck him ten ways from Sunday until he forgot his own damn name, you know?” She batted her eyelashes at him in blatant invitation.
She was shocked when the man bolted out of his chair, almost knocking it and her over. She held on to the table for support and stood, turning to watch him go. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the exit door swing shut. The asshole didn’t pay his fucking tab or even leave a tip. Great. That would come out of her pay. She cleared the table and stormed back over to the bar, counting out the money to pay for the asshole’s drink.
She shoved the cash at the wide-eyed bartender and muttered, “See? That right there is why I’d rather eat pussy. Dicks aren’t worth it!”
“Damn him, that fucking Kolya!” Bjarke fumed. “Who the hell does he think he is, stealing my woman?” He didn’t realize he was talking to himself until a man on the sidewalk hastily moved out of his way like he was crazy—right now he felt like he was.
Why had Kolya followed him that night? And he knew the guy had followed him because Kolya rarely ventured out to clubs, instead preferring to live the life of a hermit. Had the Pakhan assigned him to watch him? Fear slithered up his spine at the thought of Glazov going to the trouble of having him followed. Did the Pakhan know what he had been doing, throwing the occasional fight for a little extra money? Did he know what he was planning? Fuck.
He would have to move quickly now. What he was planning to do was crazy. He needed Helena to help him. If she didn’t want to help him willingly, well, he’d just have to force her.
He drove toward the Pakhan’s home. This was the one time of year he could get away with staking it out. People drove for hundreds of miles to see the Christmas decorations at the Glazov residence. The local newspaper had even featured it in a Louisville Christmas Lights Tour map, touting it for its classy extravagance.
Despite the festive decorations, the place was still a fucking fortress with armed guards stationed along the high security fence that ran the perimeter of the property. But passengers in the endless line of cars could see all the grandeur as they passed by the front portion of the fence. The ornate wrought iron bars were festooned with greenery and Christmas wreaths.
He parked far enough away to be able to scope out the house and take a moment to think. The first thing he noticed was the huge outdoor Christmas tree, complete with twinkling lights. Artificial snow dusted the tree. There was even an artificial snowdrift with a huge reindeer standing on it. It was breathtaking. No wonder people traveled so far to see the house and grounds decorated for the season.
There was a rustic nativity scene made of Russian spruce. Each life-size figure was hand carved and hand painted. In another area was a family of oversized Russian nesting dolls designed to look like the Glazov family. Even Bjarke had to begrudgingly admit that he’d never seen anything like it before.
He slumped down lower in the seat when he noticed a curtain move in an upstairs window. He needed to be discreet for now, but he would reveal himself when the time was right. And then there would be hell to pay.