AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The glass was spread out, reminiscent of pictures she’d seen of the solar system. And in the middle of the ceiling was a giant, rotating ball of light. Not quite shaped like a disco ball, but more like Jupiter. Pinkish, white light shot out in streams, catching the glass pieces and dazzling the dancers before in an admittedly marvelous light show.
Cora glanced along other figures at the bar, or leaning against tables, watching rather than participating in the activities.
No sign of Alex Karpov. No sign of his nephew either, who she’d tangled with back at the mansion. Good. If anyone would recognize her, it would be the security guard from Castillo’s. Hopefully he was still back at the mayor’s mansion.
“Hey, you got an ID on you?” asked the scarecrow, glancing sheepishly back at her. His lip curled into something of a petulant sneer. “Kill-joy here won’t let you into the back without a fingerprint scan and an ID swipe.”
Cora hesitated, swallowing faintly. A fingerprint scan was out of the question. She didn’t know what sort of databases they had access to, but if they somehow had a backdoor into any of the big ones, she would be found in most of them.
As for an ID, she’d left that back at her parents’ place. Traveling with some anonymity was easier done without being identified.
She winced apologetically. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t have an ID.” She completely avoided the portion about the fingerprint.
The scarecrow grinned. “Mind if I check,” he asked with a wink.
Cora kept her expression polite and neutral. A little bit of harassment was what went for humor nowadays she supposed. Then again, it didn’t faze her. Working with a bunch of frogmen often yielded far more colorful and creative versions of the same tripe.
She just shrugged apologetically. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I can leave.”
She turned to head back up the stairs, and as she did, she made sure to flash a long leg through the faint slit in the side of her dress.
“Wait, wait, no, honey. It’s fine. We’ll just do the fingerprint, okay?” he said, taking a quick—and very long—step forward and catching her arm.
She allowed him to tug her back towards the podium. The big man behind the counter stared at her, his expression like that of a flatulent pug. Half his face was crumpled up in a frown and the other half, the lower half, bristled with a flimsy attempt at a beard.
She didn’t generally consider people based on their appearance so much as the level of threat they presented, but this guy was one of the ugliest critters she’d ever encountered.
And one thing simply hadn’t changed. She couldn’t let them take her fingerprint. This was a mobster’s club. She had made it past the first line of security. The chances that they’d let her out alive knowing she’d worked both FBI and Navy were next to zero.
But now the scarecrow tugged her firmly towards the small fingerprinting station. No ink here. Just a digital reader resting on the wooden counter. She also spotted an eye scanner.
They reallydidtake security seriously around her.
She winced, desperately trying to think. She brushed up against the wooden podium, pretending like she was nervous. “Is it going to hurt?” she asked in a ditzy voice.
“Oh, babe, don’t worry, I’m gentle,” Tito shot back. Then, with a level of scorn, he added, “Though Kill-joy here is as rough as he looks.”
Cora let the giant take her hand. And then she moved quick. As he pulled her forward, her other hand reached for the thigh sheath, removed the item she’d taken, and tossed it off behind the podium, along the tiles.
As the big man began to press her thumb to the reader, she suddenly yelped. As she pulled her hand back, she said, “What’s that?”
The big man with the ugly face glared at her, clearly not in the mood for gaffs. But scarecrow noticed the direction of her indicating finger, and he frowned. “Hey...” he said, staring at a black wallet laying on the ground. It had two initials etched in the front with golden, flashing lettering.
TK.
Tito Karpov?
Cora swallowed as the tall man bent over, retrieved his wallet, and stared inside. “Huh—nice eye, Carla,” he said nodding in appreciation.
Pretending like she didn’t know she hadn’t been cleared yet, Cora scampered forward, past the big man by the podium. As she left without clearance, nor with her fingerprint scanned, the goon snapped after her. A couple of the men arranged against the walls frowned and moved to intercept.
But still pretending as if she didn’t notice their anger, she draped herself over Tito, pressing her hand against his chest, giggling in his ear, and doing everything she could to channel her inner Rose.
Her little sister knew how to wrap men around her pinkie finger. Hell, not just men. She’d been congenial and gregarious, charming to all, be it teachers, friends, boyfriends, bus drivers, or cops. Rose had been a genius of human emotion.
Cora on the other hand had always considered herself a slow study when it came to the human psyche.
Especially in regard to things like flirting or charming or banter. She was a person of action. Words were useful enough when the time came, but more often than not, she would have far preferred to put a bullet in a target rather than stalling for a quick chat.
