Loathe Me by LP Lovell

Author:LP Lovell [Lovell, LP]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-05T18:30:00+00:00

The club sits in a basement beneath an ordinary residential townhouse. The main door sits on a quiet cobblestone street, so I park a little way down to keep a clear view of the front.

The only sign that there’s even anything here is the small sign above the door, elegant script carved from steel that reads, Essenza. It’s not lit and would be easy to miss. The clientele all appear high end. Men in suits, women in tight dresses and heels. A single man guards the door with his hands clasped in front of him as he assesses the street. Climbing from the car, I approach the door. The man spares me a brief glance and pats me down before allowing me inside. The music drifts up the stairwell from below; it’s a low hum that rumbles through the walls. In the main club, blue lights flash, cutting through the darkness. The outer walls are occupied by private tables and small clusters of people. There’s nothing unusual about the layout. The open floorplan makes scouting the place easy, except for the VIP area. The stairs are guarded at the base—as Nero indicated—and I have no doubt Bianchi will bring more security detail with him. I deliberately came here early so I could scout the place. The VIP is mezzanine that juts across a lowered area of the floor. There’s a short set of stairs up there, guarded at the bottom. I have no doubt Bianchi will bring more security with him.

Nicholai taught us that discretion is everything—We were trained to be ghosts, unknown to any law enforcement on earth. Our DNA, fingerprints…don’t exist. And in order to maintain that anonymity and accomplish the kill, I have to lure him out—without alerting his security.

Leaving the club, I return to the car and the stash of weapons I raided from the villa earlier. He may not visit the place, but he maintains the mandatory arsenal. In the back, I loaded guns, grenades, and C4. Poison could have been an option, but I didn’t exactly have a stash just hanging around. That’s always been Una’s preferred method rather than mine. Still, if I can’t kill him with what I have, then I’m in the wrong job.

I pick up the bag of C4 and take out a couple of blocks along with the detonators in the zipped pocket of the bag. Coupled with a few wires and a timer, that’s all it takes to set the charge. And then I wait.

An hour goes by before two black Mercedes pull up in front of the club, and a hoard of men get out, weapons in hand, uniform suits in place. The back door of the first car swings wide and Enrique steps out. Four men fall in around him, shadowing him—shielding him with their bodies. Even for a mafia boss, it seems extreme, or maybe he’s just smart. After all, he did send Elite into Nero Verdi’s home. If I were him, I’d have a lot of security, too.

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