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“I’m not talking about this.” Akim gestures to the warehouse and the Albanian grunts shuttling boxes from the back of my truck to one of their own. “I’m talking aboutyou. You are on edge, man. You’re making the guys nervous.”
A couple of gunrunners pass by just then. One of them chances a look in my direction before looking away quickly, his eyes wide. They scurry by and keep their heads down.
“What the fuck do you know about ‘the guys’? This is only the second time you’ve ever come with me to a tradeoff.”
“Yeah, because Pavel called and told me you banned him from coming with you.”
Pavel is fresh out of a bad marriage and preoccupied with screwing everything that moves. The reason I know that is because he can’t stop talking about it. The last thing I want after leaving Piper’s room is to hear about the inviting pussy of yet another of my lieutenant’s sleazy conquests.
“Thank God he sent me a solid backup in his place,” I mutter.
“Don’t be a wiseass. You know I’ve backed you up more times than you can count. Remember that brawl on New Years’ Eve?”
“Youstarted that,” I scoff. “You hooked up with the bouncer’s girlfriend in the bathroom.”
“Yeah, and you defended me. And then, when the bouncer came after you, I backed you up. So, y’know, you’re welcome.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, it’s good to get out of the kitchen occasionally. I know I’m a personal chef, but I can be intimidating, too. Why simply cut off a man’s finger when you could julienne it?”
I drag a hand down my face. How anyone could ever take this man seriously is beyond me. “We’re not cutting off any fingers tonight.”
“Not yet,” he tuts. “But it’s only a matter of time. You’re in a mood. Did things with Piper not go to plan again?”
“Everything went fine.” But I speak through gritted teeth. The sound of her name is enough to remind me of the unbearable tension I felt standing next to her bed.
The slope of her thighs.
Her scent in my nose.
The way her hand lingered where I put it, perfectly submissive before she even realized what she was doing.
And then the fire when she did realize it. The spark. The feral growl.
Fuck,my cock is hard again already.
“Your knuckles arewhite.” Akim snorts. “Holy shit. This woman is under your skin.”
“And you’re on my last nerve. Practice a little self-preservation and go help load up. I want this shit over with.”
Akim grumbles something about me being a slave driver as he lopes off towards the truck.
“Are you running low on new recruits?” a voice asks.
I turn and see one of the Albanian ringleaders resting against a wooden crate. He’s the equivalent of a night manager. Not nearly important enough for me to know his name.
“Excuse me?”
He jerks his chin to where Akim is now laughing with a group of Albanians. Leave it to him to make pals within seconds. “That’s your chef, ain’t it?”
“What the fuck do you care?”
Akim wasn’t just blowing smoke when he said he can be more than a chef. Still, he struggles to be taken seriously in our world no matter how many times he proves himself. I know a fair number of dead men who would argue that he’s proved himself just fine. Unfortunately for him, dead men aren’t very good at talking.
The Albanian stands up, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t care who you bring with you. What I care about is what you’re doing with all the money we’re paying you. Is that why this shipment costs almost twice what it normally does? So you can keep your little errand boy on the bankroll?”
“Youaren’t paying me a fucking thing. If you were, I’d know your name.”
His face reddens, but he takes a daring step closer to me. A few of his men edge in around us. I think they’re mostly curious to hear our conversation, but I have no doubt a few of them might be stupid enough to play hero if things go south.
His jaw clenches. “Just ‘cause you’re some hoity toity CEO by day doesn’t mean shit. You ain’t better than me ‘cause of that.”
