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“We both know I’m no longer an officer.”
“Ah yes. You’ve moved into the private sector. No more of the messy bureaucracy for you. That doesn’t explain what business you have with me.”
He’s playing me for a fool because he already knows I’ve found and disabled his cameras in Charity’s house. Nothing passes by a man like him. He would’ve seen myself and Ransom going through the house, methodically eliminating his ways of spying on my girl.
Fuck. She’s not my girl. Charity can’t be mine. Then why does that possessive thought feel so right?
I lift the box I’m carrying and drop it with a thud on his desk in front of him, then fling the note at him.
“This is Miss Winthrop declining your invitation,” I growl. Once again, feeling possessive of her. I need to rein that shit in right now. I’ve never crossed a line with a client, and I’m not about to start now.
His eyes flare with anger and he glares at me with hatred. “That is none of your concern, Collins.”
And that is where he would be wrong. So wrong he doesn’t even realize it. The police might not be able to take him down, but as he said, bureaucracy isn’t something I need to worry about now.
“Actually, it is. She’s under my protection.”
He must see something in my eyes because the amusement that was there for a brief moment is long gone. Now rage has replaced it, and a lesser man would be shitting his pants right about now. Good thing scum like Dima Sokolov doesn’t scare me.
“Ah, so my little peach has strayed.”
“She’s not yours,” I snarl, feeling that wave of possessiveness rage through my veins.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Senator Winthrop has already given his fatherly approval,” he says, adjusting his tie. It’s a sign of irritation that doesn’t go unnoticed by me.
I chuckle darkly. “The senator has overstepped, and Charity will be making her own decisions on whose company she will be accepting.”
“And that’s where she is wrong. You see, in my world, women have very little voice and are better seen and not heard. Something she will quickly learn.” He says the words like it’s already a foregone conclusion. Like she’s already his and there is no other option. Too damn bad for him; she’s mine.
Again with the, she’s mine. I need to get that shit under control, but for now, I need to deal with this fucker and be on my way back to where I belong—at Charity’s side.
“And I’m here to tell you that she’s not yours for the taking. Charity is mine.”
Dima gives me a dark, menacing look at my declaration. A declaration that will have long-lasting consequences, but ones I’m willing to pay for my princess. I might not have come here with the intention of claiming her for my own, but here we are. A claim has been made, and I’m going to stick by it. At least until Sokolov is out of the picture for good.
He could easily kill me right here, right now, and not blink an eye, but I know that’s not his style. He’s going to let me leave here and wait. He likes to make his targets suffer. Little does he know I’m not so squeamish. There will be no dangling on a hook for me. He’s a predator, but so am I.
“We will see, da?” he says, his accent even thicker now that his anger has been piqued.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll back off,” I threaten. “No more following her, no cameras, no date invitations. She’s not interested.”
“But she is interested in a washed-up cop who spends his days protecting little trust fund babies?”
He has no idea what he’s getting into with me. I might take jobs that are exactly as he says, but that’s only part of what I do. I also deal with scum like him in a nice quiet… deadly way. I’m not just private security. I’m so much more under the surface I’m not much better than Sokolov. Under the surface, I’m a killer, and I don’t feel a bit of remorse for it. Unlike him, I take out the scum of the earth. He’s just one more piece of shit in a long line of shit stains I’ve taken out.
“You heard me. I would heed my warning if I were you,” I say, turning on my heel and not giving him a chance to respond.
For a man like Sokolov, being dismissed is a huge sign of disrespect. Which is exactly my reasoning for doing it. I’m showing him that I’m not concerned with his threat. That he’s not someone I’m scared of. That I’m not some cowering weakling that he can control.
Outside his office, I’m met with his guard. Two I recognize as Pavel and Sasha Sokolov, Dima’s brothers. They sneer at me as I walk past, and I smirk in response. Showing no fear.
Back in my truck, I take a circuitous route to my house, making sure I’m not followed. I pack a bag full of clothes and supplies. I double-check that my gun is cocked and loaded, then put it into the holster at my side. I check my backup piece and strap it safely in its holster on my ankle. I pack up extra ammo and head back to Charity’s place.
After my chat with Dima, I know he won’t be heeding my warning. He’s going to push back. It’s not a matter of if; it’s a matter of when he makes his move. That’s okay. Let him do it. I’ll be there waiting.
When I get back to Charity’s, Ransom is still working on the new security system.
“That didn’t take long,” he comments. “All good?”
