CROW (Boston Underworld Book 1) by A. Zavarelli Read Free Book Online Page A

think they’ve got a little hellcat on their hands.
    If only they knew the real me.
    I take a deep breath and give myself one last glance in the mirror. Everything is in place. It’s taken every last ounce of my patience to wait these six days before walking into the club. But I knew it was important. I don’t want to come off too strong, but I definitely need to up my game. I have no doubts my plan is going to work. It isn’t because of my unwavering confidence. It’s because it’s the only option I’ve got left.
    The tight black leather jacket and spandex mini skirt can only help my cause. Beneath lies more leather in the form of a strappy black bra and thong. Fishnet thigh highs and a smoky eye complete the look. No question about it, I have no intention of fighting fair tonight.
    Giving my hair one last smoothing over, I grab my keys and purse and head out to the curb. Ready or not boys, here I come.
     
    ***
     
    By the time I make it to Slainte, it’s just after 1:30 am. Enough time for me to grab a drink and catch me an Irishman. Here’s how I think it’s going to go. One of the soldiers will recognize me from the fights. He’ll come over and offer to buy me a drink. He’ll mention said fight, and I’ll remark how hard up I am for cash and how I really need a job. And, oh, by the way I’m an exotic dancer.
    The lightbulb will click, and the next thing you know, he’s telling me he can help me out. I’ll flirt and be eternally grateful, and boom… I’m in.
    This plan has a lot of variables, I know. But it’s all I’ve got left since Lachlan’s rejection last week. Ultimately, I need his approval to get a job here. That’s the part I’m not too confident on.
    The bouncer stops me at the door and gives me the customary once over before deeming me socially acceptable to grace their fine establishment. Once I’m in, I feel a weight off my chest. I’ve never been inside of Slainte, but it isn’t quite what I imagined.
    The entire front bar is decked out in opulent oaks and mahoganies. The walls are a rich crimson red, and the floors polished hardwood. The scent of beer and liquor permeates the air, teasing the patrons with the promise of everything one could want during a cool Boston Autumn. It’s warm and homey, inviting even. But then again, I suspect that’s probably how Niall wants it to look. While there isn’t exactly a sign on the door broadcasting Niall’s affiliation with the place, it’s a well-known fact he owns the joint. Which means the people who frequent this establishment are either one of two things. Business associates, or those too naïve to know any better. A quick glance around confirms my suspicion that it’s mostly the latter in here tonight.
    With a sigh, I walk straight to the bar and take a seat. It’s not like I expected the whole crew to be sitting up here in the open, just waiting for someone like me to come along and eavesdrop. It still would have been nice though. I flag down the bartender and order up a Patron on the rocks with salt and lime.
    It goes down smoothly and warms my belly, steeling me with the courage I’ll need to see me through tonight. I swivel around in my seat and scan my surroundings. The front of the building houses a very cozy and inoffensive looking little pub. This is where the unwitting civilians imbibe and take part in the Irish hospitality. Downstairs and in the back, however, is another story.
    From all outward appearances, this place is legit. And while I’m sure it does well enough on its own, I have to wonder exactly what other kind of criminal activity they’re fronting here. It’s a well-known fact that the Irish deal in guns and run some underground gambling establishments. But it’s their association with the Russians, or more specifically, Talia’s Russian, that I’m worried about. I need to know if they traffic in women. How many of these young college girls are at risk of disappearing after they visit this