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In the background, Chef’s cooking something amazing, some sort of paella in honor of our being in Spain and all. He’s the perfect employee. Kicks ass at his job, gives us no trouble, and doesn’t repeat a fucking thing he hears.
How do we know this?
His phone is bugged. All our employees’ phones are bugged. It’s one of the things you have to do in our line of business. No one is trusted until they prove themselves. And even then, we don’t trust anybody.
“When should we tell her?” Bogdan asks.
Fedor scrapes his hand through his hair and stares at the ceiling. “The question is,shouldwe tell her?”
Poor girl will be devastated when she learns that, basically, her father couldn’t give a shit about her. We met with the bastard in Miami, laid everything out for him, and asked if he ever wanted to see his daughter again.
He didn’t answer.
Zilch. Nothing. Nada.
Which says it all.
The fucker is entirely disinterested in his daughter’s safety. Normally I wouldn’t care about shit like this. Fucked up family? Not my problem. But Abby’s different. She’s special.
And she deserves a father who gives a shit about her.
“I say ride it out. Let’s see what happens. Although she’s starting to ask what’s taking so long. I hate to tell her that her old man is dragging his feet,” I say. “She’s no idiot. She’ll put two and two together and realize Daddy’s a fucking loser.”
“What about the villa?” Fedor asks. “Karol says it’s ready for us, and I personally wouldn’t mind getting off the boat.”
The question is, is Abby a flight risk? Will she try and take off? She won’t get far with no money, phone, or passport, but that doesn’t mean she won’t try. But we’re all getting a little stir crazy on the boat. It would be nice to stretch our legs. Take a long walk. The yacht is amazing, but you have to get back on land at some point. We never thought we’d be on the boat for such a long stretch.
“Look,” Bogdan says, “we’ll tell Abby she’ll be free to leave soon. And now that she has the puppy, she’ll think a little harder before bolting.”
I hope to god Bogdan is right. I’d hate to see Abby get hurt. As much as I like her, when it comes down to it, if we’re faced with an ‘us versus her’ situation, she wouldn’t fare well.
It’s a brutal, ugly fact.
* * *
On the wayto my room, I pass Abby’s room and see her door wide open. The puppy is jumping all over her where she lies on the floor, licking her face. The harder Abby laughs, the more the puppy licks her.
It’s a beautiful thing to see. A pretty girl playing with her puppy, laughing and rolling on the floor with the pudgy little thing.
After taking a swim around the boat, Abby must have come back in and showered. She’s now wearing the cut-off white shorts and a snug little T-shirt we guys got her. As she rolls around, oblivious to my spying on her, the shirt stretches across her breasts, revealing she’s not wearing a bra, and the shorts slide up on her thighs, revealing her ass cheeks, and even part of her pretty pussy.
Fuck all. I had shit to do to get ready to go ashore, but that’s not happening now. I adjust the hard cock in my shorts and knock on Abby’s door.
“Have you named the puppy yet?”
The dog comes running up to me and jumps on my leg. I pick her up. I can’t resist.
Abby rolls over to her back and props herself up on her elbows. Goddamn if she isn’t delicious. “No. She remains nameless for now.”
The puppy squirms in my arms, trying to lick my face, and Abby drops her head back, laughing. “That is the cutest thing. A little puppy running roughshod over a Russian gangster,” she giggles.
She’s right. It is funny.
I hold the puppy at arms’ length with one hand, wiping my face off with the other. “I don’t know where you heard that nasty rumor, miss,” I say, walking into her room and sitting on the edge of the bed.
And dammit, all I can think about is watching her take Bogdan in her ass, a scene that’s going to provide me plenty of jerking pleasure for weeks to come.
I hand the puppy back to her, and she puts her in her little dog bed in the corner.
