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taken so many out that he knew his time was up? “Just listen. If she succeeds, I need you to notify.…” He trailed off. Last time he checked, his car was bug free, but then he hadn’t checked in a couple of days.
    “I understand. You concentrate on your end and I’ll look for her.”
    He hung up and pulled into his parking space in front of the club. Alighting quickly, he ignored the swarm of people out front and cut through them heading for the door. He narrowed his gaze at Ivan. “Problems tonight?”
    Ivan smirked, but the smile slipped and he looked away as Dimtri continued to stare at him...
    “Problems?” Dimitri repeated.
    Ivan shook his head. “No, Mr. Petrolov. No problems.”
    Dimitri watched him and leaned close. “How many pretties have you let in tonight, Ivan?”
    The man actually blushed. Would wonders never cease. “Three. No, four. Wait.”
    His eyes got big. “Five. It was five, no?”
    Dimitri slapped him on the shoulder and walked inside. One of the men at the front of the line muttered about cutting and going to the end of the line.
    From under his brows, Dimitri merely stared at the brash, rude college kid. The kid, blond, blue eyed and maybe twenty-one, gulped and stumbled back a step.
    Knowing he sufficiently put fear into the brat, he turned to Ivan and said loudly enough, “Ivan, have this person removed from the premises. I find he offends me.”
    Ivan nodded and moved to do his bidding. “Y--Yes, sir, Mr. Petrolov.”
    The air from the club hit him as it always did, thick and sweet with pumping music and fogging smoke from too many cigarettes and enough recreational drugs that a patron could get high simply standing in the doorway.
    Dimitri made his way through the throng of bodies.
    “Hey, sweet thing,” one of the regular girls said to him.
    “Olga.”
    “When you going to ask for a massage that will take you to Heaven?”
    He flashed her a smile. “Not tonight. I have a meeting with the boss man.”
    “Pity.”
    “Isn’t it though.”
    As he wove through the people dancing, laughing and talking, to the band screeching on the stage, a tingle prickled up the back of his neck.
    Slowly, he put his right hand on the butt of his SIG and made it to the staircase.
    She wouldn’t hit him here in the middle of a club. Too crowded, though if memory served, Raven preferred crowds, was it crowded streets or parties? He’d have to look her 26
    up as soon as he returned home. Walking up the stairs he scanned the crowd. A woman.
    She never disguised herself as a man. Rumor had it she was beautiful.
    And with her profession, she wouldn’t be drinking or getting high. At least not staking out a mark.
    Damn it.
    There were four women watching him. A blonde with another guy over in the corner. From her glazed eyes, she probably wasn’t it, and unless he was mistaken, the man was giving her a nice little present under the cover of the table Give them a couple more hours and people would be fucking against the wall.
    Two red heads were candidates, but red hair was memorable. And they were too
    … something. Too flighty, happy. Not his image of the elusive Raven.
    Maybe that one. Over at the bar, trying to ignore the man beside her. She had short, scalp length, black hair and skin the color of a frothy café mocha. From here, he could see the muscles of her shoulder as the sweater dipped off one. Looking down he noticed she was wearing boots. Not lace up to the thigh boots, like many in here, not even platform boots. No, unless he was mistaken, the woman was wearing very practical boots.
    He ran his gaze back up her, watched as she crossed those long legs and wondered what her calves and thighs looked like. Her eyes did surprise him. With her coloring, he’d assumed they’d be brown, but even from here he could see they were light. A blue? Or grey maybe? Green. Interesting Soft jawline, straight nose, arched brows. Rather beautiful actually.
    He narrowed his eyes and smiled at