Page 114 of Sinful Lord

“Couldn’t save one for me?” I ask, catching up to him.

“Maybe if you were a little quicker, you could have gotten one for yourself.”

“Probably would have been better that way,” I quip. “Don’t want you over exerting yourself. If you pull a muscle, am I going to have to carry you around for the rest of the night?”

“Keep running your mouth and I’ll pull one of your muscles,” Maksim warns, pushing forward. “This way.”

We’re not met with any more guards as we make our way through a twisted series of halls. In fact, the rest of the way is so empty that, by the time we see the slum lord’s office door, I’m suspicious enough to call for a quick timeout.

Has Yasha set me up again?

No. She wouldn’t dare. I saw the fear in her eyes. That woman is probably halfway around the world by now, thanking her lucky stars Maksim showed up to save her from my wrath.

“Shall we?” Maksim asks, placing his hand on the golden door handle.

“How about we knock first.”

“That sounds like fun,” he taunts, sneering as he steps back.

Lifting his hand, he curls his ring-covered fingers into a fist and knocks.

It takes a while, but eventually, the heavy metal door creaks open.

“Who are you?” a bald-headed man asks. His pale white skin is littered in colorful tattoos, and his black lips are painted into a snarl.

“We’re—"

“Yasha’s bodyguards,” I interrupt, before Maksim can spoil anything. “We’re sweeping the place before she arrives.”

“Shit, is that meeting still on?” the bald fucker mumbles to himself. When his gaze drops, I step forward and give the door a savage kick.

It snaps open, flinging the fucker off his feet.

Maksim and I immediately have our guns out, and we burst into the room ready to end anyone who dares test us.

Sure enough, there are more guards inside. I’m about to take care of them when a powerful voice puts a stop to the chaos.

“Enough!”

The fuckers all pause. The voice turns to us. “Please, don’t shoot. I heard what you said. Yasha is my partner. We don’t want any trouble.”

Maksim and I share a troubled glance as the three-armed men in front of us put their guns down. When they step aside we get our first look at the man behind the voice.

“Timo Raum?” I ask. But I don’t need the confirmation. It’s obvious who’s in charge.

“That’s right,” Timo nods. “And who are you?’

He’s a thin man with short blonde hair. Despite the dimness of the office, he wears thick sunglasses. His thin body is covered in a shiny silver suit.

He remains seated as Maksim and I hesitantly lower our guns. I’m sure we’re both having the same thought—no more killing until we get our answers.

This is important.

“Who we are doesn’t matter,” I reply, my voice harsh and unflinching. “All that matters is that you answer the questions we have for you.”

Timo seems confused. “Why has Yasha suddenly become so paranoid? Have I done something to offend her?

“Fuck Yasha,” I exclaim. “This isn’t about her. This is about you.”