Locked and Loaded (12 page)

He had to believe that she could handle this for both of them. Otherwise, he'd put an end to it before it even really began.

They drove for several more blocks before the car pulled up to a trendy, high-end strip club. The sign read FIORE, and from the line of people waiting to get inside, Mason figured it must be one of L.A.'s hottest venues. No doubt the owner was as crooked as a rail fence, too.

“Ready?” Kieran's grin stretched ear to ear. Mason gave him a look and he shrugged his shoulders. “What? You're here for business. I'm here for pleasure.”

Mason had yet to make eye contact with Charlie. The interior of the car had grown steadily darker as twilight gave way to night. He'd do his damnedest to make sure this transaction was quick and painless. In and out. The faster they could get the hell out of L.A., the better.

“I'm not going in until I get a little background,” Mason said. “Who's the buyer, for starters.”

“Katarina Evgeny,” Kieran replied.

Stellar
. The crown princess of the Russian mafia. Kieran might as well have asked them to walk over burning coals first. The daughter of Sergei Evgeny was rumored to be demanding, spoiled, and ten times more ruthless than her father. She was in line to inherit his entire North American operation and had already made a name for herself with her own business ventures. Some legitimate, others so far south of the law, they might as well be in hell.

Talk about running the gauntlet.

For the first time since they'd gotten in the car, Charlie faced him head-on. Her brow furrowed with curiosity, and even in the low light, Mason could make out the worry in her bright blue eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile, though he felt anything but reassured himself.

“She's got enough money to buy out every jewelry store on Rodeo Drive,” Mason remarked. “Why in the hell would she want these stones?”

“The stones have an interesting flaw that makes them incredibly rare,” Kieran said. “Plus, they have sentimental value.”

That sounded sketchy as hell. “What sort of sentimental value?”

“She tried to trade a few crates of Dragunovs for the stones a few months ago. She wants a chunk of the change that the arms dealers are hauling in. The African market is booming. Abidemi Bello, the warlord she offered up the sniper rifles to, told her that he wouldn't do business with a woman and that if she showed her face in his camp again, he'd give her to his men and have her clit cut off.”

Mason's brows shot up into his hairline. It was a wonder the warlord had lived long enough to issue the insult. “And she didn't have his balls right then and there?”

“She put a contract out on him,” Kieran replied.

Mason knew killing wasn't Kieran's thing. He avoided violence unless it was necessary. “How in the hell did you get your hands on the diamonds?”

Kieran answered with an enigmatic grin.

“This isn't a fence,” Mason said slowly. “We're delivering proof of death and collecting an assassin's fee.”

“Not quite,” Kieran said. “I didn't kill anyone. I just managed to get my hands on the stones after Bello was already dead. The diamonds are ransom. Sort of. She offered up two million. I contacted her, told her my associate had the stones but wanted ten million.”

Motherfucker
. Kieran had done a damned good job of stirring up a hornet's nest. Mason and Charlie would be lucky to walk out of here with all of their fingers still attached if not wrapped in plastic. Flawless, the stones were only worth a half million. Because of their flaws, they'd be worth even less. For whatever reason, Katarina had offered up a fortune for practically worthless diamonds, and Kieran was demanding more money still.

“This isn't a test,” Mason said. “You're pulling the goddamned trigger on us.”

Charlie remained deathly silent. The almost indiscernible rise and fall of her chest was the only indicator that she was about to lose it.

“I need to know you can work under pressure,” Kieran said. “I need to know that you can be ruthless. I'm not running small-time cons and fencing one-carat stones, Mason. The people I'm involved with expect nothing short of perfection. If you can't hack it, you're dead. You said you wanted in. If I can trust you to manage Katarina, I can trust you with what I'm involved in. That's the deal. Take it or leave it.”

The situation had spiraled so far out of control that Mason couldn't even grasp how quickly they'd spun. He opened his mouth to tell Kieran he wanted no part of it when Charlie interrupted him.

“We can handle it,” she said.

Well, fuck.
Looked like there was no going back now.

Chapter Twelve

Charlie's eyes widened as the words slipped past her lips.
We can handle it?
Sweet merciful God, what was she thinking?

“I like your backbone, Charlie.” Kieran's smooth words slithered over her. The valet opened the back door and Kieran turned to her before he got out. “Let's tear it up.”

Charlie moved to climb out behind him. Mason snatched her by the wrist and pulled her back to him. “Stay close to me,” he murmured close to her ear. “I'll run point, you're just here to authenticate the gems. Don't make prolonged eye contact with anyone. Be pleasant, be professional, but don't let your guard down. You can't be nervous or unsure, do you understand? I need you to be a rock once we walk through that door.”

Charlie nodded. She couldn't speak past the nerves that congealed in her throat.

“I've got you.” Mason's intense gaze bored into her. “I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.”

His words of reassurance meant more to her than all of the coaching in the world. “Okay.” She locked her gaze with his. “I can do this.”

He gave her a crisp nod in response and released the hold on her wrist. As she got out of the car, she hated to admit that she missed the comforting pressure of his grip. Mason promised to protect her and because of that, she wasn't going to let him down.

Charlie waited beside the car for Mason. His presence at her back gave her the courage to put one foot in front of the other as they met Kieran at the entrance to the club. A bear of a man in a tailored suit pulled the velvet rope aside to let them through. “She's waiting for you,” he said to Kieran. “And just a heads-up, she's in a foul mood tonight.”

That didn't sound good. Charlie had to assume that a badass mafia princess wasn't easy to get along with on a good day. She could only imagine what dealing with Katarina when she was in a bad mood would be like.

Stepping through the doors of Fiore was like walking into another world. One that only added to the fantasy persona Charlie had been forced to construct for herself. The air sizzled with dangerous sensuality. There wasn't a woman in the club who wasn't a specimen of physical perfection. Men and women alike sat at the bar, surrounding tables, and the bar that lined the main stage. No neon lights or lasers dared to mar the atmosphere. Instead, there was an old-school, burlesque tone to Fiore that sold the venue as a high-brow establishment. The only thing that stood out was the slow techno song that filled her ears. Charlie's gaze was inextricably drawn to the main stage at the front of the club, where a naked woman twined herself around a pole in a graceful spiral that held her rapt.

“Entertaining, no?” Kieran said close to her ear.

Charlie gave a noncommittal shrug.

Kieran's warm laughter sent a rush of adrenaline into her bloodstream. “We're in the VIP room. Come on.”

Charlie didn't make a move until she knew that Mason followed. She kept her gaze trained straight ahead and was sure not to let her attention linger on any single person or thing. Did that make her look more suspicious? Less? Did she look like an uptight basket case?

“It's okay to loosen up a little.” Guess that answered her question.
Crap
. She looked back to find an amused expression on Mason's face. “Keep your emotions under wrap. This is just another day at the office.”

“Maybe for you.” She knew what Mason meant, though. In court it was important to keep your expression passive. Unflappable. Jurors noticed even the slightest hint of worry or doubt. It was safe to assume criminals were just as observant, if not more so.

“Be that woman I met in the elevator,” he said. “Be the take-no-shit badass who ran that briefing, and you'll be fine.”

Easier said than done
. She'd been in her wheelhouse then. With people who knew their roles and what was expected of them. They'd all been on the same team. Maybe that was the problem. She was still thinking like a prosecutor. She was a good guy and they were the criminals. What she needed to keep reminding herself was that here, in this world, she was a criminal too. She needed to see through the eyes of the people she'd been sending to jail. She knew the criminal mind-set. Hell, she'd spent years studying it. This was the sort of on-the-job training she'd never get in a courtroom. Charlie could use it. Learn from it.

That is, if she lived through it.

Another behemoth of a man in an expensive suit met them at the VIP section and escorted them down a long hallway to a private room. Charlie felt Mason bristle beside her, and she could only imagine that the tight, windowless space wasn't going to do much to keep him level and calm.

A door swung wide and the security guy stepped to the side to let them through. Kieran walked in, followed by Charlie. Mason knocked into her as the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed into her temple and she froze.

Please don't let me die in a strip club owned by the Russian mob
. Her father's head would explode right off his shoulders.

“Kieran, you piece of shit.” A smooth, sensual voice with a refined Russian accent broke the silence. “Did you bring my stones?”

“Charming as ever, Katia.” Kieran spoke as though he didn't have a gun pressed into his head along with Charlie and Mason. “I didn't bring your stones,” he added. “But my associates did.”

Charlie scanned the room. The panic that overran her system made it tough to focus, but after a moment she zeroed in on the woman who spoke. Much younger than Charlie anticipated, and beautiful. Her cold, dark brown eyes narrowed and she smoothed a hand over her perfectly coifed chocolate-brown hair. Her attention fell on Charlie and then Mason. She paused for a moment as her gaze raked him from head to toe and her bright red lips spread into an indulgent smile. “Fine, then. Kieran's associate, give the stones to me and I'll consider letting you leave with you limbs intact.”

Charlie had agreed to let Mason run point. He'd grown up in this world—had worked cases with people just like Katarina—whereas her own knowledge was superficial at best. Still, the urge to speak up, to put the other woman in her place, was almost more than Charlie could resist. She hated entitlement. Especially when that attitude came from murderers and criminals.

“I'm sure there's a better way to conduct business.” Mason took a step forward and Katarina's bodyguards converged on him. His arms were forced behind his back and he was slammed face-first against the nearest wall.

Charlie cringed at his grunt of pain. Kieran took a protective step toward her, placing her behind his right shoulder. She wanted to elbow him right in the soft spot of his gut. His chivalry was a bunch of bullshit. He had to have known this would happen.

Katarina let loose a string of angry Russian that made Charlie's ears burn. “You know
dick
about my business.” She rose up from her chair with all of the pomp and circumstance of a queen. Her Louboutin heels clicked sharply on the floor as she crossed the room to where her goons had Mason smashed against the wall. She reached out and tousled his hair with the blood-red tips of her nails and leaned in close to whisper something in Mason's ear.

Charlie strained to hear, but even in the nearly soundproof room she spoke too quietly. Her red lips pursed before curving upward. She came around Mason's left shoulder so that she could look him in the eyes.

“Let him go.”

The order was obeyed in an instant. Mason pushed himself away from the wall and straightened his shirt. Charlie moved toward him and Kieran took her hand in his to keep her in place. “He's a big boy, Charlie,” Kieran murmured. “He can take care of himself.”

That might be true, but it didn't put her any more at ease.

“So, Mister . . . ?”

“Decker,” he answered. Katarina's mouth turned down as if the name had no significance. “Mason Decker.”

It took a moment before her expression lit with recognition. Her smile grew and Charlie couldn't help but admire her sultry beauty. What had she whispered in Mason's ear? And why was she so suddenly willing to hear him out when only a moment ago she'd threatened to give him a permanent vacation from his limbs?

She jerked her head in Kieran's direction. “What's in it for you?”

He hiked a shoulder. “Finder's fee.”

Katarina snorted. “And how do I know the diamonds are authentic?”

Kieran's eyes slid to Charlie. “That's what she's for.”

The Russian mafia princess's attention wandered to Charlie as though she'd only now realized she was standing there. Charlie fought the urge to squirm under her appraising stare. “Who is she?”

“Charlie Sinclair, meet Katia Evgeny,” Kieran said. “Katia is an old friend. And Charlie is a broker and an expert. I've vetted her personally. She'll know if the stones are legit.”

“And I'm supposed to trust your word, Kieran?” Katarina's eyes went wide. “What do I care that you've vetted her?
I haven't
, and that's all that matters.”

“Fair enough.” Kieran's stance relaxed. “What do you suggest?”

She held out her hand to Charlie.
Holy mother of rocks
. The diamond ring she sported looked more like a golf ball resting on top of her finger. “What can you tell me about this?”

* * *

Katarina fucking Evgeny. Kieran might as well have sent them into North Korea to fence the diamonds. In no time at all, Sergei's daughter had managed to build her reputation as the evil dictator of Los Angeles. She certainly ruled the underground. Kieran had really fucked Mason over this time. But he had one up on Kieran. Not that he wanted to be anywhere on the mobster's radar. Still, he'd take any advantage he could get.

Mason's relief at no longer having his face pancaked against the wall was short-lived. Katarina had put Charlie on the spot by requesting that she prove herself before being allowed to authenticate the diamonds. Mason had given her a crash course in how to grade a gem, and though she'd been a quick study, Kieran hadn't given her enough information on the stones for Charlie to know exactly what sort of flaw she should be looking for. They could be practically unidentifiable to the untrained eye. In this case, the flaws in the stones were what made them so attractive to Katarina. Apparently, perfection bored her.

Charlie cleared her throat. Mason kept his stance relaxed, but the tension continued to creep up on him until his muscles burned. He swore to God if anything happened to her—if any of Katarina's goons laid a fucking finger on her—he'd burn this place to the ground.

“I'd be happy to take a look at your ring.” Every word projected confidence. Not even a quaver to her voice. “Do you mind if I get my lens out of my bag?”

Katarina gave a flick of her wrist. “Alex.”

One of the men reached out and snatched Charlie's handbag. He rifled through it before giving his boss the all-clear with a nod of his head.

She gave another flick of her wrist. Kieran had brought them before a queen tonight. One who didn't have any qualms about lopping off heads. Not one of the three of them had come armed. It was a mistake Mason wouldn't make again. Not that it would have mattered now, but it would've been nice to have been given the opportunity to be a little more goddamned prepared.

Charlie retrieved the loupe from her bag. She glanced Mason's way and his chest swelled with pride that she didn't give any outward show of worry. She'd absorbed every bit of information he'd drilled into her over the course of the past week. Charlie was smart. Capable. There was no need for worry. She had this.

“May I?” Charlie reached out a hand toward Katarina, who graced her with an indulgent smile.

“Of course,” she purred.

Charlie didn't miss a beat as she gently removed Katarina's ring from her finger. “Is there a possibility we could do something about the lighting? I'm used to working in much brighter surroundings.”

Katarina's brows raised and it was as good as a shouted command. Within seconds additional lights were brought in and set up on a nearby table. “Sit.” Katarina held out a welcoming hand to Charlie before her gaze wandered to Kieran and then to Mason. Her lips spread in an indulgent smile. “Everyone.”

Charlie cast a glance over her shoulder. Mason was proud of her for going the extra mile not to appear to be any more uptight than she should be, given their situation. Hell, even criminals got twitchy when their lives were on the line. And there was no doubt Kieran had dangled them out in the wind. On a scale of one to ten, Mason's own anxiety had crested to about a thirty. The guns in his face had actually been a nice distraction from the small, windowless room they'd been shut up in. Maybe one of Katarina's henchmen wouldn't mind shoving his face into the wall one more time. You know, just to give him something else to worry about for a minute or two.

Charlie situated herself under the lighting. Mason sat down beside her and Kieran once again flanked her. The way he seemed to want to be stuck to Charlie like glue made the hairs on the back of Mason's neck stand on end. It was a little late for Kieran to play the chivalry angle, considering the fact he was the asshole who'd gotten them into this mess.

You could have heard a damn pin drop while Charlie held the loupe to her eye and examined Katarina's ring. Long moments passed. Tension pulled Mason's muscles taut. His mouth felt too goddamned dry, and he took stock of every single body in the room as he weighed their odds of making it out of there alive in the event that shit went south.

Not fucking great.

Charlie looked up. She pulled the loupe away from her eye and met Mason's gaze. Her brow furrowed, though she kept her expression passive. His gut knotted up as her lips parted. Something was wrong.