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“Yes.” I lick my lips and he drops to his knees. Men like him will always have the same weakness—underestimating women like me.
He leans over me, nudging my legs apart and sliding a hand between my thighs. “I hope you bite and scratch, little whore.”
“Oh, I sure do.” With a feral grin, I plunge the knife into his side, right below his left armpit. His face twists with agony. He roars, flopping onto his side and allowing me to scrabble out from under him. I dive for the door while he’s still immobilized.
My hands are no longer shaking as I pull back the bolts. Who does that sick fuck think he is, thinking he can take me to Russia and make me his fucking bride? I am Joey fucking Moretti.
Jerking the door open, I fall out into a large parking lot. The bright sunlight shines directly in my eyes, making me shield my face from the glare, and I barrel directly into a broad chest.
ChapterForty-Seven
MAX
She runs straight into me like a gift from the fucking heavens.
I pull her close, wrapping my arms tight around her. “Baby girl, I got you.” I breathe out a sigh full of relief, my lips pressed against her hair as she buries her face into my chest.
“M-Max,” she gasps, her heart hammering against my chest.
Dante steps toward the open doorway, gun drawn.
“He’s at the bottom of the stairs,” Joey says. “He’s injured and I don’t think he’s armed. But be careful.”
A smile creeps over her brother’s face as he looks through the open doorway and puts his gun back in the waistband of his pants. “You did this, kid?” he asks proudly.
“Of course,” she sniffs.
The sunlight illuminates Viktor Pushkin as he pushes himself to his knees, a kitchen knife sticking out of his side. He goes to pull it out, but Dante stops him, dragging him to his feet and pinning his arms behind his back. If Viktor pulls that knife out now, he’ll likely bleed to death on the way home. That would be a death far more merciful than he deserves. Dante pushes him into the parking lot, and Viktor blinks at the bright glare of the sun, screaming Russian curses.
Joey takes a deep breath and wrenches herself from my arms. Before I can pull her back, she launches herself at Viktor, raking her nails down his face. “You evil, disgusting piece of shit!”
Dante holds onto him, keeping his arms firmly behind his back.
“Let him go so I can kick his ass,” she rages. “Let him fucking go.”
Her brother shakes his head. “Calm down, kid.”
She turns her wrath on him. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. Let him the fuck go and let me kill him, Dante.”
Dante shoots me a look and I step in, wrapping my arms around her. Fury pulses through her body and she kicks out, still trying to get to him.
I hug her tighter. “You can kill him later, Joey.”
She snarls, wrestling to free herself from my arms.
I press my mouth against her ear. “Slowly. Painfully. But right now, we need to get out of here.”
Immediately she stops struggling, appeased by my promise.
Dante laughs as he secures Viktor’s hands. “Yeah, you can kill him later, kid.” He shoves a rag soaked with fast-acting sedative into the prisoner’s mouth. Within seconds, Viktor slumps over.
Only when he passes out do I let her go, allowing her to walk away from me. I want to carry her out of here, take her to some faraway fortress where nobody will even get to look at my Mafia princess ever again. With a sigh, I shake my head. That will never happen. She’s Joey Moretti, the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.
Dante and I haul Viktor into the trunk, and we’re about to climb into the car when Joey speaks, hands on her hips. “You know it’s about time you all started treating the women in this family with some fucking respect.”
Dante has his hand on the car door, holding it open, and I see the instant shift in his mood. “Get in the car.”
“If you’d just told me about your little scheme, I could have been prepared. Maybe I would’ve…”
