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Irish Sparrow: The Caged Trilogy Book 1 by Erin Trejo (1)

Chapter 1



“What is it you want from me?” I ask annoyed with the whole conversation. It is far too often that a whore comes to me asking for a job. Not that I don’t love female employees but it becomes a bit of a nuisance when they just keep knocking on my door. I’m not a good man nor am I a man that gives out opportunities to those I don’t know and trust.

“I just need some work, Mr. Pavlov. I will do anything,” she begs as she stares up at me with big brown eyes. My clubs are fully staffed with people I personally vet. If I find one ounce of bullshit in their past, they are out. But there is something about this girl that I like. She hasn’t backed down from me since she walked in here and that alone intrigues me. The Underground Gentleman’s Club isn’t just any club though. Unlike most strip clubs, our girls do get completely naked. You pay a higher rate, but you get what you pay for. This girl begging me with her big brown eyes doesn’t appear to be a stripper. She looks far too thin for this line of work.

“You will let men touch you? You will let me men use your body as they see fit?  Are you willing to do that?” I’m blunt and to the point with her and when she nods her head far too eagerly, I challenge her. Raising an eyebrow, I nod my head and scratch at the scruff on my jaw. “Take off all your clothes,” I tell her. She narrows her brows, glances at the other men around us before dragging her gaze back to mine.

“In front of all these men?” she asks. I chuckle and shove out of my chair, grabbing her around the throat with one hand and downing my glass of cognac with the other.

“That is what you do here. You strip. I want to see your body and if it’s worth my time, возлюбленная.” Her eyes widen as she stares into mine. I hope she didn’t think that I was just going to give her a position in my prized club just because she asked for one. The girl swallows hard, her throat bobbing against my grip. She nods her head slowly as I release her and sit back in my chair. I motion to one of my guys to pour me another drink as she moves slowly. Her body is stiff and she doesn’t move well.

“Move like you’re trying to entice me. Look into my eyes and make a connection. I’m the only man looking at you and you want nothing more than to please me. All your thoughts are how you can get me inside of you. How hot I make you,” I speak low and slow as her eyes focus on mine. She slowly starts to get into a rhythm as she watches me, watching her. Her hands move to the thin fabric of her shirt, slowly pulling it over her head. I tilt my head and take in her body as she does. She’s too thin. The men that frequent this club will not like seeing her look that way. They like their women the way I do, with some curves. I watch as she moves to toss her shirt to the side before reaching for her shorts. Her fingers hook into the waistband dragging them slowly down her legs. I snap my fingers and cut her off.

“You are far too thin. You will need to gain at least fifteen pounds before I put you on the stage. I want you to work out a few times a week, nothing bulky. I will have one of the girls help you with routines and clothing.”

“You’re giving me a job?” She asks with hopeful eyes.

“I’m giving you a chance to show me what you can do. One month. If I don’t see any progress, you’re fired, Понимаю?” All of my girls are Russian. I pride myself on taking care of my people and there is just a certain beauty in the Russian women I employ.

“Thank you. I won’t disappoint you, Mr. Pavlov,” she grins before I motion for one of the guys to take her to the back.

“She just showed up and you hired her?” Dmitry asks. I nod and glance over at him.

“Why is that a problem?”

“You don’t usually take in girls off the streets. She’s different, no?” Nodding my head, she might be. I don’t yet know for sure, and none of the men, not even Dmitry will question that.

“What do we know about the deal with Ivanov?”

“We don’t know much at the moment. He has his men out handling any concerns on his end, but I can tell you that I don’t like where this is going,” Dmitry says. Dmitry is my best friend. The closest person to me but he’s also a trained assassin. He kills for the Bratva, for me. We are more alike than anyone could know, and I’d like to think that we think along the same lines as well.

“Why is that?” I ask tipping my glass to my lips.

“The Irish are always making threats. Dead one’s but they are threats. Ivanov is ignoring them all and making plays at the Mexican mafia. We have no dealings with them and never have. Why is this of importance to him?” I let his question linger for a few moments before leaning forward and resting my arms on the table.

“Perhaps he has more intel than we thought.” Dmitry laughs and shakes his head.

“He has nothing more than we do. I make damn sure that we have any knowledge long before he does,” he says confidently. My phone rings in my pocket and I raise my hand to silence him as I pull it out.


“Cousin. How are you?” I look at Dmitry and need to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Lev, what can I do for you?” I say while Dmitry chuckles under his breath when he hears the name leave my lips.

“There has been a kidnapping. Your cousin, my sister, Alina, has been missing for a few months now,” he says softly. I shift in my seat, sitting up straighter.

“What do you mean a few months? How the hell are you just now reaching out?” I snap into the line. A few months in our world usually means death. How could he do that?

“Father asked that we remain silent on this matter until we had more information. I can’t do that any longer, Alexei. He’s making enemies and I fear one may have her.” I can hear the tension in his voice. Lev has always been a good man and very honorable, but he doesn’t always have the best common sense.

“I want details, Lev. What do you know?” He sighs before going into a long drawn out explanation that pisses me off more and more. As the words keep leaving his mouth, I want to snap my uncle’s neck. How could he be so careless? How could he have let her out on her own when he knows what kind of life we live?

“Do you have any intel on where she may be held?”  I nearly growl into the line. Dmitry’s interests have been piqued by this conversation. His eyes are wide, and he watches me, waiting for any bit of information that I give him.

“We are sure she is being held in Queens. It appears Zakhar has a place there where he is holding women. I don’t know anything further.”

“Zakhar sells women, Lev!” I roar into the phone. If he’s had her this long, it’s highly unlikely she is still there.

“What am I going to do?” he grumbles into the line.

“You are to do nothing. I will take care of this,” I tell him before the line goes dead.

“We’re taking a trip?” Dmitry asks with a grin.

“Not far from here, I’m afraid.”