|1| OUTSIDE GETTING IN |:| (***Unedited Draft***)

“When are we going inside?”

The other man looked at Jason then burst out laughing before turning back toward his window and placing the binoculars to his face. “It’s called recon rookie. Oh wait, you’re the military jarhead they stuffed in this car to babysit me. Listen,” the man continued taking a big bite out of the doughnut. “I don’t give a fuck who you think you were in the military, this is my ship. I’m the one in charge. Think of yourself like a K-9. A valid part of the team but only if you do what you’re told and do your job will you get fed.”

Jason was two more words away from making the man eat the steering wheel in front of him. Did the prick really just compare him to a dog! A goddamn dog! He growled in his head. He came out of retirement for this--

“There she is. Most think the Devil is a man, but I know this little clueless Princess thing is a facade. She-devil. Oooo, but look how she wears those pants. Leaving nothing to the imagination.”

Jason rolled his eyes at the imbecile. No wonder he wasn’t making any progress on the case. He didn’t need binoculars to see the pretty caramel-skinned woman walking with all the camera lights flashing, people attacking her for photo ops and autographs. Her bubble gum pink hair was half up in to big buns that looked more like horns on top of her head and the back cascaded down her back terminating just above her butt.

Her security detail was doing the worst job keeping her out of the fray. She didn’t seem to be phased in her big light grey fur coat and snake skin pants with boots that appeared to be part of the pants. She had shades on even though it was near midnight and her phone was in her hand as she talked to her screen.

He’d done his research, his recon, on Ianca Clarke. Self made Millionaire even though from his digging he would say she was worth well over a billion. Social media icon, whatever the woman touched at this point would quickly turn to gold. She owned a couple nightclubs that she hosted several parties, a massage parlor, clothing line, make-up line, perfume, she was launching a liquor line some kind of fruit mixed wine crap that he was certain would be too sweet for his liking. She also had a foundation that helped literacy in inner city schools which was part of her back story. Raised by a single mom before she was given up for adoption in her early adolescents.

The man next to him set back in his chair with a release of air.

“When do we go in?” Back to his original question.

The man rubbed down his face. “We don’t go in. We wait for her to come out-- Hey! Where are you going!” The man shouted when Jason open his door and struggled his way out the little car.

He slammed the door and looked in the window. “I’m going inside.”

“We can’t go inside! That’s against protocol. You fuck this up, I’m going to have to report you!”

“You do that.” Jason winced when he stepped off the sidewalk into the street to cross when his injured leg caused his pain. The light dizzle on his head was a reminder that it was always the rain that got his leg acting up.

He slid the bouncer a fifty to cut the line and scanned the space. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the club. It was dark, had booze, and drunk people just shy of having sex on the dance floor. There was no doubt there were drugs floating around the place.

He paused when his eyes landed on what had to be the VIP. With  vantage point looking down to the throngs of people partying below. There were a couple others in the section with his target but she didn’t seem to be engaged with what they were doing.

He ordered a drink at the bar with a good vantage point. He wasn’t close enough. He needed to get closer. Infiltration was not his specialty. He was a get in gun blazing and get it done kind of guy which was why he couldn’t figure out why his commanding officer put him on this case.

He swirled the dark liquor in his glass. She seemed to be who she was on the outside, but he knew something a lot of her adoring fans didn’t know. She was the daughter of Russian butcher disguised as a businessman, Ian Sokolov. THe American government had been trying to track the man down for decades. When they finally got a hold of his illegitimate child that he seemed to care more for than his own sons back home, alot of his mobility and stealth seemed to make perfect sense.

Some in the government seemed to think Ianca was very aware of her father’s involvement an willingly using her companies to conduct his black market dealings. Jason was certain to get to the bottom of it. He frowned when he saw a man who’d been drinking on the other side of the bar get up with ill intent in his eyes.

Jason knocked back the rest of his drink and followed the man to the stairs that led up to the VIP. The man slid a knife from his sleeve. Before Jason could catch up the man stabbed the private security guard in the gut several times with measured skill. The security at the top of the stair started wrestling with the man but got a knife to the chest. He kept fighting and Jason respected that. He joined the fray grabbing the assailant around the neck from behind and choking him out until he fell unconscious. The VIP door opened and down came three additional security guards. The one that got a stab to the chest went to check on the guy with gut wounds. It was a good thing all of this happened in seclusion or it would have been chaos.

“We need to call the ambulance!” ONe of the security guards shouted. Some screams came from the top of the stairs making Jason look up. Despite the buzz of friends and chaos and flashing phone cameras there in the doorway was Ianca looking down at the mess with measured calm. It was in that moment that Jason was certain she wasn’t like any other twenty something he knew. Did that make her guilty? It didn’t make her innocent. Guilty of what he wasn’t yet certain, however.

“Stop.” She said simply with a light Russian accent in the siren like quality of her voice. The buzzing photo taking friends and frantic security detail followed their mistress’s command. “No cops. Delete on your photos. This is my launch party. Got back in there and take pictures with the bottles. That’s why you’re here.” She turned to address the other women. “If I see, hear, or even get wind of any of this. I will destroy your careers. Do you understand?” Nods assured her that they were willing cooperating parties. “I’ll call my contacts at the hospital. We handle this quick and quiet.” She started down the stairs. “Follow me.” She eyed Jason up and down and walked passed him deeper into the back of house area. “Bring them.” She demanded gesturing to the injured men.



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