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A slow smile stretches her face and makes those dimples wink at me. “Then we set ground rules.”
Rules set by Presley? I have a feeling they’ll all be broken by the time this night is over.
Am I going to go along with them anyway?
Absolutely.
Another knock on the door interrupts our kissing.
“Ignore him,” she whispers.
“I like the way you think,” I reply, conquering her mouth with my tongue.
The knocking turns to pounding, and I’m guessing that’s not Harley at the door.
I pull away from my Presley’s perfect lips and bark, “What the fuck is it?”
The person who enters the trailer is indeed not Harley. Nor is it Nick or any of my other employees.
Presley’s body stiffens in my arms when a man in an expensive three-piece suit and stupidly expensive alligator shoes strides in. The trailer suddenly reeks of cologne.
“Nice to see you again, Presley.”
The man has a foreign accent and leers at Presley in a way that makes me want to kick him in the face. My arms tighten around her, and I’m instantly ready to fight. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
The man ignores me. “Naughty girl,” he says. “Mr. Guzinsky won’t like finding out you’ve been entertaining other men.”
I’m on my feet and standing between the desk and this dude, with Presley safely seated behind the desk.
“You don’t talk to her or anyone else like that. Apologize, and then we can have a chat.”
The man ignores my demands and speaks slowly and with dead eyes. “They call me Boris. I am here to collect a debt, and that’s all you need to know about me. But we know everything we need to know about you, Francis Wade Wood, born 1985, co-owner of Wood Brothers Construction.”
He’s trying to intimidate me. “And?”
With his hands folded at his front, he has the gravitas of a funeral home director, but his words are a thinly veiled threat. “Your company employs 75 full-time workers, does it not? We also know apart from that, your company insures 97 children, spouses, and dependents. It would be awful to see something bad befall such a generous company.”
“Eat shit,” I spit.
“Wade, don’t,” Presley warns.
“You should listen to the little trollop. It’s not wise to fight back. Let us have her, and you can keep your quaint little business and all of your parasite workers. Or has she already scammed you out of your money? As defensive as you are, it seems she’s already wrapped you around her little finger.”
My mind races. He’s threatening my entire company if I don’t hand over Presley. But it’s not happening.
“If you think I’m handing her over to you, you can go fuck yourself.”
Boris nods, then takes out a phone and taps the screen. I hear the sound of a FaceTime call. “Andrei, I have the girl. Get into position at the Wood home.”
On the other end, Andrei replies, “The big macho husband is away buying diapers again. The wife and baby shouldn’t put up too much of a fight.”
A chill runs down my spine. He’s talking about Grace and the baby.
“Very good. Let me know when you have them,” Boris says, then hangs up the call.
As if this weren’t enough to send me into a blind rage, another person knocks on the door. “Hey, boss,” I hear Nick say. “I thought you’d like to see what Claribel drew on her hardhat; it’s hilarious—oh, sorry! Didn’t know you were in a meeting.”
“Nick. Run. Now.” My mouth is so dry I can barely grit out the words. His eyes go wide, but he’s listening. “Put Claribel in her car seat, get Ruby, and go straight to the sheriff’s office.”
