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“Yes...” Rumo's eyes thin as he looks at me. “You should put her in the monthly fights at my farm, Maksim-Markov. We could make some serious money off of her.”
“No! No!” Maksim laughs, tipping up the glass to motion I have a sip. “It would be unfair on her opponents.”
The vodka burns my throat; makes me gasp a little.
“You can say that again,” Umberto says between chuckles. “Imagine, we would be accused of fixing the fights.”
Everyone but Carl laughs at his silly joke, and then Rumo says they should get back to playing poker. “Umberto now has an extra fifty thousand to burn as he bet on Blaire winning.”
Of course he did. I'm not sure he's ever missed one of my fights.
“Go put James in the car, my little pet.” Maksim leans in to kiss the wound on my eyebrow, causing me to wince internally. He then puts warm lips on my ear and whispers, “Be cautious of Charlie if you run into him, and when you are done with James, meet me in the snooker room where we will be playing poker.”
Nodding, I pass him back the glass and walk over to James, a morsel of pain still in my back like needles in my spine. Must be due to landing on this hard floor.
James remains out cold, I see when I'm within touching distance, his hands still folded in his chest. He's not moved an inch.
Poor guy.
I have to block out the sentiment of guilt—it's the last thing I need to be feeling right now.I must keep my wits about me as I'm the only person inside Rumo's house who can protect Maksim, should he need me.
With both hands, I grab under James' arms. He's heavy like deadweight so I use my lower body strength to move him.
Charlie appears in front of me and takes James' forearms; tries to throw him over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” I snap, standing up straight. “Will you go away?” My eyes dart over to the doors. Fortunately, Maksim and his friends are out of sight.
“Will you calm down?” Charlie scowls at me, putting James back down on the floor. “I'm just helping you.”
“Helping me?” I squeak in shock, my hands trembling to hit him. “If you didn't provoke Maksim, James wouldn't be lying here unconscious.” I'm struggling to keep my voice down. He really gets under my skin. “Why don't you go play a hand of poker? Leave the hard work to those of us who have no other choice but to do the heavy lifting.”
“Why do you stay with Maksim?” he asks completely off topic, cocking his head.
I scoff.Another stupid question.He seems to be full of them.
“I know your friend here is fitted with a tracking device,” he says, waving a hand at James, “yet, you're not and you stick around... Why is that?”
My jaw drops.He's been asking around about us? Not well enough though, it seems. I'm not fitted with a tracking device because I have my master's absolute trust. James is because Maksim isn't a silly man. He knows that if James had half the chance he'd try to leg it. It would be a foolish mistake however. Maksim has the British government in his pocket because he brings millions to the economy with his trafficked girls, so if James ever did run, he'd be picked up by the police within the day.
“Why do you address Maksim with such insolence?” I say, putting Charlie under the spotlight. “Don't you think you ought to learn some respect?”
He snorts with affront. “Because I'd speak up to someone who's below me, wouldn't I?”
I shake my head in obvious loathing,refusing to argue cat and dog style.“I don't know who you think you are...”
I grip my friend's ankles and haul him across the floor, toward the doors.Charlie takes James' wrists and lifts him off the ground, his arm muscles bulging with tension.
“Charlie,” I growl his name, curling my lips against my teeth.
“Look,” he says, releasing James again, “you can drag your friend out like a dead body, or you can let me help you.” Though he's giving me an option, his tone doesn't really leave any room for argument. “The choice is yours.”He snatches the towel off his shoulder and flings it at me.“Wipe your face. You're bleeding.”
Dropping James' legs, I catch the towel with both hands, wondering why he's doing this. Why is he provoking me? And then why is he trying to help me?
Charlie nods at the towel and I don't know why, but I wipe my sweaty forehead before cleaning up my bloody mouth, wincing when I press it to my busted lip. I'm bleeding more than I thought. The white towel soaks through with claret.
Charlie walks up to me, his stride confident and unhesitant. Reaching out, he lifts my chin with a single finger, forcing us to look at each other. A rush of heat sweeps through me, making my skin flush, and then my stomach tingles with... I don't know.
I do nothing. I just stand there like a brainless statue; swallow past the restriction in my throat.
