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“Yeah. How about it?” he asks.
I search the room as I take a sip of my spicy margarita. “I’m too nervous to tell you now because I think anyone I suggest to fuck or marry you will kill.”
“Hmmm,” he considers.
“If I recall correctly, this is why we stopped playing that game because the guy I said I’d fuck actually hit on me that night, and you threw him into a dumpster.”
“He’s lucky I didn’t do more.”
“You’re a right dick, you know that?” And yet, I can’t help the smile.
Dmitri was many things but especially an arrogant asshole.
“Or remember that time we played the game with Layla. And the woman you said you’d fuck, Layla purposefully went out of her way to take home that night.”
I can imagine his sly grin as he says, “I remember.”
I pick at the chorizo and olives —a better place and time.
“Fourteen minutes left,” Dmitri says. “Tell me what you plan on doing for the rest of the afternoon?”
I chuckle. I’d never seen this side of Dmitri. In fact, I’d always doubted it was there. “Do you really want to know?”
“I just want to hear your voice,” he replies. My heart betrays me again, and I don’t even know if he’s aware of how it affects me when he says things like that. “Let me start then; I’d rather have you bent over that table fucking you from behind.”
“I think I’ll start with a walk this afternoon,” I begin and am rewarded with his chuckle as I so obviously cut off his train of thought. Because I’ll be fucked if I’m letting this man get me hot and flustered in a restaurant full of people. And for once, I am grateful I am not wearing those panties he’d recently discovered as his favorite toy because he’d most likely have me melting all over this seat.
A natural warmth floods my core. Then again, I quite seem to like that idea.
38
DMITRI
Isit behind the office desk in my apartment, scrolling through the multiple images of women with track marks and grotesque living situations, appalled by their state. My inside guy had sent me the photos days ago, and I’d already shared them with Luca.
I detest my father’s existence. But what I struggle with the most is that he’s capable of something as deplorable as this. That I’m somehow blood-tied to a monster who could hurt women for the sake of profit.
The recent information he’s provided piques Luca’s and my interest. My informant had trailed and taken photos of a silent member who frequents their club. With the photos of his car and license plate, we were able to track him back to a warehouse by the docks, which he has been frequenting during the past week. We couldn’t hack the system within the warehouse without being detected, so Lorenzo has staked out the place ever since.
We’re certain it’s either drugs or guns.
My patience grows thin as I wait for his arrival because the one thing I’m certain of is that he will come out of his hiding soon. I can sense it.
I never claimed to be a good man, and if I were going to hell, holding onto this until I could set her free, then I’d condemn myself happily. I send the recent information to Luca knowing it will be the final bit of evidence he requires so we can make a move on The Lion just as we’d bargained.
My phone starts buzzing, and I answer it. It’s ten in the evening. A little earlier than what I usually call Elanee, but it’s a nice change that she’s calling me. I know she was out late with her client, so she must have finished by now.
“Hey, Cricket. Finish your meeting early?”
“Dmitri.” Her voice rattles.
I spring from my chair. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”
Labored breathing comes through on the other end. My mind goes to the worst. Has he got her? Where the fuck is Archer? Panic constricts my chest.
“I’m walking home, but I think someone’s following me,” she says quietly into the phone. “I think someone’s been watching my apartment, and I think they’re following me tonight.”
“Where are you?” I ask again. I know Archer will be close. But it’s not enough.
