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“Oh my gosh, Mister Second Man, I’m so sorry. Do you need a tissue?” I ask with all the fake concern I can muster.
While he growls, he looks over my shoulder. I follow his gaze and find thePakhansitting at a large table, watching the commotion.
And as soon as I turn back to the second, I see him winding up his arm, poised to strike me.
“Stop!”
ThePakhanis on his feet, pointing.
Holy shit. I didn’t count on being belted across the face by this cretin.
“You can leave now,” thePakhanbarks at him.
Blood drips into the second’s hand, and I have to say it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve seen in I don’t know how long.
I jump out of the way as he leaves. “Sorry about that. Really. And I’m all out of tissues, darnit.”
The second glowers, causing me to step back further, out of his reach. “That was no accident, lady.”
“Maybe you’d like to tell thePakhanwhat you said to me just before we entered the office? Hmmm? Something about being a… whore, I think it was?” I taunt.
I’m pushing it. I know it. And I don’t care.
He stands there, silent.
Yup. Just what I thought.
He can put a woman down but when it comes to owning up to it, he’s a big pussy.
Loser.
He slowly pulls the door closed.
I wave goodbye to him. “See ya!”
* * *
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Charleigh
“Miss Gates, is it?” thePakhanasks, getting right down to business.
“Yes,” I say politely, waiting for an invitation to sit.
Which I do, as soon as he gestures to the chair opposite him.
His office is kind of on the shabby side, surprising me, but I guess not all criminals care about fancy surroundings. Fluorescent lights glare overhead, the carpet is worn, and the huge conference table we are seated at is scratched and chipped. In another setting, its shabby look might be charming. But in a room that smells like a combination of dust and cigars, pretty much nothing is going to look nice.
Without waiting, I dive into telling thePakhaneverything that happened the day Dimitri nabbed me. I include more background than he probably wants about my family, as well as the low-down on the trouble my sister always gets herself into. Without interruption, he listens and nods.
He probably doesn’t speak to many ‘civilians,’ as the guys call me. I wonder if my relatively normal life seems as unusual to him as his does to me.
I round up my speech like I’m making the case in debate club or something. “You see, the man attacked and almost killed me to make a point to the Alekseev brothers. It had nothing to do with me, per se. I was just an easy target, someone who’s important to the guys.”
ThePakhan’seyebrows rise. “Important? You’re important to the Alekseevs?” he asks.
Really? Is he fucking with me? Because if he is, I don’t think he’s very funny.
