(ASA)SSIN

CHAPTER ONE

I grasped the cold metal railing of the balcony as my eyes rigorously scanned the dancefloor full of people. Slender limbs, clad in scraps of sequins and denim, tangled together like vines winding and grinding against each other in movement to which I could only assume was dancing. The pungent scent of hormones drifting through the air seemed to infiltrate every person with the need to grope and grind against whoever they could get their hands on. Even I was feeling the sudden urge to sway my hips to the beat of the music but, stopped myself before I too became blissfully enthralled in the atmosphere and ignored my surroundings.

Bare skin glistened with sweat as girls wildly tossed their hair and guys smoothly gyrated their hips to the tiresome EDM song the over-zealous DJ had played twice before. All the movement in such a confined area had produced an overwhelmingly constrictive blanket of heat that forced a bead of sweat to roll itself down my forehead, and a warmth to aggressively caress every inch of my skin.

I was slightly thankful that the club was almost pitch-black, protectively shielding my eyes from the sight of wandering hands and loose lips as the sultry song continued, but also shielding my obvious discomfort from the revellers. Momentarily I caught snapshots of delighted faces illuminated by the flamboyant strobe lights intensely flashing the same repetitive pattern of blue-pink-green. And as much as I was grateful for the cloak of invisibility the darkness offered, people is what I needed to see. The only reason I ventured this far was to hunt and find a particular slippery person who had evaded some of the best trackers in London.

But not me.

It was suppose to be my first Friday off in four months but, Lukas Varga had surfaced a lot sooner than anyone was expecting. And after meticulously planning my actions step by step for two days straight, that plan had been ripped apart and spat on. Now, I was neck deep in a shady club filled to capacity with a constant influx of new faces tightly cramming into spaces that weren't big enough to house a small child, whilst trying to spot my target. Safe to say I wasn't happy.

My troubles only escalated further when the black skinny jeans and the long-sleeved red bardot top I was wearing began uncomfortably sticking to me like an unwanted second skin, and the very 1980's blonde permed wig I adorned, to disguise my natural brunette hair, painfully burned my scalp. My skin crawled with the need to bathe away the sticky sweat and the revolting stench of hard liquor and smoke that clung to every inch of my body.

Come on, Varga. Show yourself so I can go home and salvage the night that you ruined!

Surprisingly, after catching wind of a VIP 'gathering happening here, I had managed to link Varga to it. Club Culture, located along the waterfront, was a popular destination with the local gangbangers and small time dealers to make a quick quid. It was the type of place that sucked unsuspecting victims in and bled them dry. The magnetised pull was irresistible to consumerists like Varga, and it offered the most perfect window of opportunity to get my hands on him.

Disappointingly however, my search amongst the dancers on the main floor turned up nothing. I had the firm inkling that he would be prowling around like the true vulture he was for women to show a 'good time' and bring them up to the VIP section. But if he were, I couldn't see an inch of him. I was stiff and rigid leaning against the balcony avidly looking for him, and if I stood here any longer, someone's suspicions would be dangerously raised. I didn't know how to loosen up or act natural in a setting I was unfamiliar with so, I decide to do something that everybody in here was doing.

A trip to the bar.

One thing every single person in here had in common was the inability to avoid the magnetism of alcohol. He was no exception. Especially since this bar was the only one in the club that sold high end spirits and liquors, an irresistible treat.