She gives it her all not to answer the screaming protests of her lungs when I loosen my grip on her throat before tossing her to the other side of my office. She loses her fight when she lands on her backside with a thud. She won’t stay down. She will quietly lick her wounds before kicking me in the gut with the three-inch heels she’s wearing. That’s her way.
Before her pumps can get anywhere near my stomach, I mutter, “Tell me what you want before I add visible wounds to your hidden ones.”
For once, she pays attention to the angst in my tone. It’s for the best. I wasn’t joking. I hate killing women, but I’ll make an exception for her. “I want the same thing you do, Dimi. Revenge.”
Even having no knowledge of the inner-workings of women whatsoever doesn’t spare me from knowing who her comment refers to. Women get their panties in a real twist when their baby daddies don’t come to the party for child support, much less when they deny paternity all together.
As a smirk curls my lips, I prop my backside onto my desk and fold my arms in front of my chest. I can’t believe it took me this long to slot the pieces of the puzzle together. This isn’t a turf war. It’s a law enforcement officer learning she can’t always have things her way. I only fucked her to have her looking past illegal shipments, yet she still responded to her deputy’s wish to deepthroat my cock with the contempt of a scorned woman, so I can only imagine how she feels knowing her baby daddy is moving on.
“As I told you years ago, the Petrettis don’t meddle with custody disputes.” Before she can call me out as a liar, I add, “Unless you want Isaac Holt to go on an extended vacation, we have no business.”
“His girlfriend is Russian. She has Popov blood running through her veins. How can you not be worried about this?”
I give her a look, warning her she better keep herself in check. I’m already pissed I left Roxanne hanging mid-orgasm. I don’t need more annoyances heating my blood. “Because if I thought she was a threat, I would have held back her transfer the instant you forced it through the system.”
Now Theresa is the one balking. If she thinks I’m so stupid not to look a little deeper into her sudden return to my state, the act I worked on her was as legitimate as the one I hit Audrey with when she stated she didn’t want to date someone in my ‘lifestyle.’
“You brought Isabelle here for a reason… what was it?”
Theresa strives to shut down the jealousy blazing through her eyes, but she’s not quite quick enough. “She was supposed to go undercover—”
“Not fall for the mark?” Her lack of denial reveals I hit the nail on the head.
My next set of words are barely audible since they’re cloaked with laughter. “I’m sorry you got thrown out on your ass, but a bruised ego isn’t something I can help you with.”
I’m also not eager to go against Isaac again. It isn’t that I’m afraid of him. I just learned that karma can gnaw the wrong ass when you attempt to get out of a fucked-up situation in a half-assed way. CJ hasn’t been the same since their rigged fight, Ophelia is dead, and Roberto’s hiding out as Isaac’s dish hand. Those fucked-up set of circumstances would keep the deadliest man on the straight and narrow.
My last comment holds my attention a little longer than it should. I can’t be accused of fucking with karma if Isaac stirred the pot first. Alas, I’ve got enough on my plate, so I’m not interested in anything Theresa is selling. Wasn’t years ago. Certainly am not now.
“If you want my help, you’ll need to come back with over thirty thousand in uncut coke and a less bitchy attitude.”
Theresa attempts to fire something back, but I’m out the door before a syllable leaves her mouth, and even quicker than that, I make my next move. “Call Mikhail. If a Russian so much as schedules a flight out of Vegas, I want to know about it.”
Confident Smith is always listening, I make my way to the room I share with Roxanne, eager to award her earlier submissiveness in a way that will have her eating out of the palm of my hand even quicker than Theresa organizes a raid of Ravenshoe PD’s evidence vault.
Twelve
Roxanne
Icurse at the soap as if it’s my whining libido when it slips from my grip for the second time the past two minutes. It’s acting as if Dimitri’s threatened slap hours ago would get me off as well as his teeth tugging on my clit. I should have been scared he was acting so violent. However, all I felt was excitement.
In a weird way, it felt like he was protecting me, like his shift in personality was solely reliant on the unexpected arrival of his father. I even got that vibe from Smith when he guided me through Dimitri’s residence, so I’d avoid walking down the hallway Dimitri dragged his father down only seconds earlier.
I stop seeking snippets of clarity in an insane world when the faintest hum of multiple engines warming up breaks through the madness swamping me. Before his father interrupted us, Dimitri gave me permission to attend the second search of my grandparents’ ranch today. Wailing libido or not, I’m not going to miss it for anything.
After shutting off the faucet, I scrub my skin dry with a towel, twist another around my midsection, then race into the main part of my room. My pace slows to that of a snail when a gleaming device catches my eye. It isn’t the prototype laptop Smith loaned me when I offered to help him keep things afloat while Dimitri recovered from having his drink spiked. Nor is it the ring I tossed at my mother when I realized she was responsible for my unexpected inheritance. It’s my cell phone.
My heart launches into my throat when it suddenly commences ringing. It vibrates across the nightstand to the ringtone I set for Estelle’s number, wordlessly urging me to pick it up.
I almost fall for his trick until I realize what’s happening. I’m proud of how well I sucked Dimitri’s cock, but even if I had sucked the marrow from his bones, I don’t believe he’d award me two offerings in one day. This is a test, I’m certain of it. If I answer Estelle’s call, the SUVs I hear idling at the front of his compound will leave without me. If I leave her call unanswered, I further my proof I’m on Dimitri’s side.
It sucks that he needs to be constantly reassured, but it’s also understandable. I heard the tone Dimitri’s father used on him in the hallway. He doesn’t love his son. I’m not even sure if he likes him.
With that in mind, I send a telepathic message to Estelle that I’ll buzz her as soon as possible before I continue my sprint for the walk-in closet. Since my time is limited, I throw on the first dress I see. It’s more suitable for a nightclub crawl than a daytime hike through overgrown fields, but I act ignorant to the fact.
Once I have on a pair of shoes and have thrown my hair into a messy bun, I hotfoot it to the door.
“Smith?” I query when my attempt to open my door is thwarted by a trusty lock.
