Page 14 of Tangled Souls (Bratva Souls Duet #2)
BAKER
Fuck our woman looks damn good. I can’t tear my eyes away from her leather covered ass or the way her pants hug her legs and hips.
The whole outfit, including the red sparkly top she has on which barely covers her, but costs more than I can imagine, is hot as fuck on our woman.
It’s not just the clothes though, it’s the confidence she has.
The sway of her hips is hypnotizing and the badass heels she has on makes me think about fucking her later with only her heels on. It’s hard to concentrate on anything else.
But I need to be on my game tonight.
Kirill is in the front of the group with Oaklynn on his arm with the rest of us flanking them on both sides and behind. My gut is screaming at me that this is a bad idea.
But then again, I think anything that puts Oaklynn close to danger is a bad idea. There’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll be able to protect her, but she shouldn’t have to be protected. She should just be safe.
The line outside of Pulse groans as we walk right by it and head straight toward the entrance. There’s no way we’re waiting in the fucking line. And if the people in it knew who we are they wouldn’t make a fucking sound.
I glare at a few guys who let their displeasure be known far too loudly. It shuts them up instantly and then they suddenly find everything other than the five of us interesting.
Good.
Oaklynn’s soft giggle has me looking her way and I find her brown eyes taking me in. She looks around me like she’s searching for something as amusement dances in her gaze.
“What?” My curiosity gets the better of me and I can’t help but asking. She’s up to something, it’s easy to read as much on her face.
“Oh,” she coos, “I was just looking for the octogenarian who must be using you as a puppet.” My mouth drops open, and she winks at me while patting my chest. “It’s the only explanation for you acting like an old man.”
I gasp and press my hand to my chest. “You wound me, Little Bee.”
She laughs, the sound wrapping around me and sticking to my skin as the bouncer leads us through the entrance, his eyes averted once Maxim worked his magic. Maxim made it clear who we are and who we are here to see.
Oaklynn’s voice drops, her words meant for me alone, “I know you’re worried and I get it. One of the things I love about you is how protective you are, Baker, but you also need to relax a little.”
“I’ll relax when we’re back home,” I grumble.
She makes a humming sound and then whatever else she was going to say gets lost as Aamon pops up out of nowhere, his booming voice full of jovial charm as he greets Kirill, “Mr. Volkov, this is a surprise.”
“I hope it’s a good surprise, Aamon,” Kirill’s tone is filled with ice and warning.
Aamon, to his credit, looks thoroughly chastised and starts to nod like he’s a fucking bobble head figurine. He’s a good ‘yes’ man, but it’s about all he’s good for.
I don’t trust him; none of us do.
He’s dressed in an expensive suit which is tailored to fit him perfectly. He’s leaner than any of us, but he doesn’t look weak. I’m sure he hates the fact that he’s a few inches shorter than me and the rest of the guys, probably under six feet tall if we were to pull out a measuring tape.
His black hair is slicked back, and it makes him look oily. I always prefer it when the outside package matches someone’s personality. And when it comes to Aamon, everything about him screams creep.
When I notice him eyeing Oaklynn like she’s a fucking meal, I clench my hands into fists to stop myself from wrapping a hand around his throat. He’ll get his soon enough, I’m sure, but I just hate the way he’s looking at her.
“You and your men are always welcome here,” Aamon tries to sound magnanimous as he forces his gaze back to Kirill.
He can’t hold it though, his eyes going back to Oaklynn almost immediately while not caring that we’re taking up far too much space in the vestibule.
The bass from the club vibrates through our feet while not encroaching to the point we can’t be heard.
“And who is this? You brought me a little present, Kirill?” The question oozes from him and has our wife arching an eyebrow, disdain written all over her face.
“When did I ever give you leave to address me by my first name?” Kirill growls out the question, the threat hanging in the air with his words.
“I’m not here for you,” Oaklynn’s voice takes on a cultured tone she uses when speaking to someone who isn’t worth a piece of dirt stuck to her shoe. “I’m here for a night out with my husbands.”
“Your husbands?” Aamon chokes out the words as his eyebrows shoot up to his slicked back hairline. “I had seen something about Mr. Volkov getting married, but…,” his words trail off and he looks like he’s at a loss.
It would be comical if I weren’t busy keeping my eyes moving to ensure we aren’t caught by surprise. We’re deep in unknown territory and being alert and ready is the only defense I have. Well, and my weapons.
Oaklynn waves her hand dismissively, ensuring her wedding and engagement rings are on display as she does. “Yes, well, that’s immaterial. I was told Pulse is the place to be.” Oaklynn’s smile is fake as fuck, but Aamon is enchanted just the same.
“It is,” Aamon assures her. He gestures behind him. “Let me give you the full VIP Pulse experience.”
Oaklynn’s laugh is forced, but I swear Aamon’s eyes roll back in his head as he pulls the door open and the music from inside hits our senses. The lighting is low with neon making colors dance around the dark room. I don’t like it at all.
Our wife slips her arm through Kirill’s elbow as we fall in line and follow Aamon. My eyes are bouncing around, taking in the writhing bodies on the dance floor the same way I take in everyone working the floor because you never know where the threat will come from.
Better safe than sorry.
We follow Aamon toward a set of stairs which leads up to the VIP lounge. He nods at the bouncer there who practically falls over himself to pull the rope back to give us entry. Either word of our visit has spread, or the bouncer is afraid of his boss.
I’m guessing it’s us more than Aamon considering the bouncer is much larger than the club owner. But, then again, I have a feeling we don’t know nearly enough about Aamon and his connections.
My gut is telling me that is going to change tonight, but only time will tell.
We’ve barely sat down in one of the large lounge sections in the VIP area when a waitress appears with a bottle of Hammond Whiskey and some champagne in an ice bucket.
As much as I want to sit right next to Oaklynn and cocoon her in safety, I force myself to relax and keep some space around us, looking more casual and relaxed than I’m feeling.
I glance at the bottle of Hammond Whiskey and smirk. Aamon must want to impress Kirill, and us, considering the Blue Label he’s serving us tonight. I won’t be drinking, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Once the drinks are passed out, the waitress glancing at Aamon furtively the entire time, she scurries away. My gut is screaming at me, but I push it aside. For now.
Oaklynn watches the waitress for a beat longer than she should before she looks out over the club on the floor below us. She takes a sip of her champagne before directing her attention at Aamon and smiling at him, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Thank you,” she demurs, “this is delicious.”
“Of course,” Aamon practically fucking bows as he accepts our woman’s praise. “Anything for Mrs. Volkov.”
The placating smile she gives him should make him feel like an errant child, but I swear he puffs his chest up as if he’s won a trophy. Oaklynn turns toward Huck and winks, her voice seductive and sweet, “I think it’s time you showed me more of your moves out on the dance floor.”
Huck chuckles, his eyes dancing with mirth as he holds out his hand, “That’s an offer I can’t refuse, Sweet Girl.”
As much as I want to watch our wife’s ass as she’s led out of the VIP area and toward the dance floor by Huck, I force myself not to. When I glance over at Maxim, his eyes are riveted right where I wish mine were. The fucker.
Aamon clears his throat and our attention drifts in his direction. Kirill’s eyes are intense and focused which causes Aamon to shrink under his gaze before he thinks better of it and puffs up his chest. I have to swallow down a laugh because now he just looks constipated.
“With the ball and chain gone, can I offer you gentlemen some company? I have a connection that can provide you a woman for anything you might need,” Aamon offers.
He leans forward like he’s not digging his own grave, “I’m sure you have needs that your wife can’t fulfill.
There’s a difference between what you can satisfy with a wife and with a mistress. ”
I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. This guy has lost his fucking mind. The fact that he doesn’t know how much danger he’s in right now is kind of funny. It’s also really fucking sad.
Kirill’s voice is cold as the dismissal rolls off his tongue, “I have no need for a mistress.”
Aamon is nodding, his face a mask of fake understanding. “Just for a night then. Not a mistress per se, just someone you can take all your frustration out on.”
My stomach rolls at the thought of being near any woman other than Oaklynn. Not only is cheating not our style, but our wife would have our balls if we even considered such a thing. And she would be right to mount those balls and put them on display on our mantle.
While trying not to launch myself at Aamon, since it would do me no good, my eyes find Huck and Oaklynn on the dance floor.
As if the crowd can feel the danger coming off Huck, they give the two a wide berth.
It looks out of place in a club where bodies are usually tightly pressed on the dance floor, but it gives me a little bit of comfort.
Kirill doesn’t respond to Aamon’s ridiculousness which has the man nodding at someone in the corner. I’m not looking forward to whatever his nod brings our way. My eyes continue to scan the club, looking for an attack.
One feels imminent even though I doubt it’ll happen here. The foreboding feeling in my gut, which I can’t ignore, is growing the longer we’re here. I don’t like it one bit.
“A woman who bears your last name is only good for pushing out some babies, but then there are the whores you take to bed. They can be used and left without a backward glance.” Aamon’s words have me wanting to scrunch my face up in disgust, but I don’t let my feelings show on my face.
He seems emboldened by our silence and keeps talking.
“I’m sure you already know all about that.
” The laugh he lets out borders on a maniacal cackle as I side eye the man as he’s lost in what he thinks is a hilarious rant.
“Women are all weak. It’s best to find one who is meek and a little stupid to be your wife.
That way they don’t know what they’re missing when it comes to their home life and are happy to have kids to look after. ”
I share a look with Maxim and can see the anger in his eyes, but Aamon is too gone to notice. Or, maybe, he just doesn’t care. Either way, he’s going to be lucky to live through the night if he keeps up spewing his bullshit.
With a shake of my head in warning, I look away from Maxim. That’s when I notice the three women approaching the VIP area. They’re dressed in little more than lingerie and I almost ask what the fuck is happening because it looks like they belong at Second Circle.
My jaw clenches as Aamon perks up when the women approach. He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand toward the three of us. “Ladies, your entertainment is required.”
When the redhead closest to me tries to sit on my lap, I give her a sharp look. Fear flashes in her eyes before she sits next to me and puts a hand on my knee.
Disgust thrums through my veins, building with every beat of my heart.
Looking toward Kirill and Maxim, I find them in much the same position as me. Their faces are twisted in matching snarls which would be funny if not for the situation we find ourselves in.
“Think of these ladies as a gift, gentlemen,” Aamon’s tone is pleased, as if he’s caught us in some way which has my spine straightening.
That’s when my eyes snap toward the dance floor and don’t find Huck and Oaklynn.
Well, fuck.