“Plan still stands,” I tell him.
I can see that he’s not convinced, but this is what I was raised to do. Long before I took over for my father, I was his watcher, the eyes in the back of his head. I knew exactly what someone would do before they did it, and that kind of conditioning doesn’t go away.
We talk for a few more minutes before I head back up to the room and change. I put on a white tank and a dress shirt over it, and I keep the jeans I was already wearing on. Once I’m changed, Sven meets me downstairs dressed similar to me.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come? I can wait in the car,” Uncle Frank mumbles, walking us to the door.
“We’re not going to the grocery store,” Sven says.
I shake my head.
“What if you need backup?”
“We won’t,” I assure him as we leave the house, shutting the door behind us and leaving my pouting uncle at home.
We drive to the club and park down the street. It is after midnight, but the sidewalks are still packed with people.
“Where’s your club?” I ask when I notice this block has clubs lining the street.
“A block over. This area is new, but the nightlife here is one of the reasons people come to Vegas.”
“This area is also connected to the mob,” I tell him, and his eyes come to me as he runs a hand through his hair. “This street used to have nothing but old warehouses on it. Back in the day, a bunch of men bought up these lots, knowing that Vegas was going to expand. I wouldn’t be surprised if Paulie actually owns the club we’re going to.”
“Justin didn’t say that.”
“Just because his name isn’t on the papers doesn’t mean anything, kid.”
Once we reach the club, we go to the front of the line, where Sven knows one of the bouncers at the door, and they let us in without a word. Once we walk in the door, we know where the cameras are, so we avoid them at each turn.
From Justin’s intel, we know that the club has three levels. The top is all VIP, which has smoked-glass panels with red backlights every twelve feet, making it look like a steamed shower with dancing people silhouetted behind the glass.
The second floor has the same panels, but these are blue and techno music is loudly pumping. The first floor is a large bar that goes around the whole perimeter of the room, with a dance floor in the middle.
“Let’s head up and see the layout,” I say.
We walk towards the stairs that will take us up a level. We know where Paulie would be hanging out, but seeing it on paper and being here in person are two different things.
“Sven?” a woman says halfway up the first flight of stairs.
“Hey, babe. I don’t have time right now.” He removes her hands from him then jogs to catch up with me.
“Sven,” another woman says.
I look over at him and frown when he says the same thing he just said to the last one.
“Hey, stranger,” a blonde says, stepping in front of him.
I shake my head. I have had my fair share of partners, but this is fucking ridiculous. No wonder Maggie is running away from him.
“It’s not normally this bad,” he tells me once he’s free from yet another woman.
“I should have had you stay home with Frank,” I mutter, looking around the second level.
“Fuck off,” he grumbles then points toward VIP, where there is another set of stairs, this one blocked off by a red, velvet rope and a woman standing there with a clipboard in her hand.
“We need to get up there,” I tell Sven.
He smiles and walks towards the rope. The woman’s face lifts and she smiles as he gets near. I follow close behind him and hear her say his name. His hand goes to her waist, and he dips his head close to her ear. She looks over at me then nods and pulls the rope. He kisses her cheek then says something else before we make our way up the last set of stairs.
We walk up to VIP and look around. There’s a bar off to the side with steam rising up out of the glass behind the bar. Sven taps my shoulder and nods to the right. I see the guy from the photo, the one I swear is undercover. He’s standing off to the side, his head lowered as he talks on the phone.
“Where’s Paulie?” I question, knowing he has to be close.
I hear someone yell, “Fucker!” and I start toward the commotion while staying in the shadows.
Paulie is standing over some kid, who is lying on top of a busted-up glass table. His hands are in front of his face, and I can see that he’s bleeding from open wounds on his arms. Paulie leans over him and spits, and then he starts to laugh before looking around at the people who have formed a circle, making sure they’re laughing too.
“Get up and get out of here,” Paulie says, kicking the guy, who rolls to his stomach before scrambling to his feet and taking off.
“That guy is a fucking dick,” Sven says, and I can’t agree more. He is a fucking egomaniac.
“We need to find our opening. You watch Ivan, and I’ll keep an eye on Paulie.”
He nods and walks off to the bar while I stay in the background. Every once in a while, a woman stumbles over, but as soon as they’re in my space, I give them a look that has them turning around and finding another man to fuck with.
I still don’t even understand how being with Myla came so easily. It’s like the gods sent me everything I could have ever asked for in a wife, qualities I didn’t even know I was looking for.