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She bites her lip again. “I hit him. That might have something to do with it.”
Oh. That changes things.
“He had me cornered in his office, backed up against his desk. He was leaning over me.” She gags a little. “His cologne was choking me, his breath was sour, and he was in my face, you know? Telling me I was going to have sex with this guy because it would mean a lot of money for him, and this was a guy who already spends a lot of money at the club. He’s there all the time. So I guess Dimitri didn’t want to lose that, either.”
“Wait. Dimitri?” Evan’s a little gentler this time, tipping her head back with a finger under her chin instead of a handful of hair. “That’s his name?”
“Yes. Dimitri Sokoloff.”
Fuck me. I don’t need to look at Evan to know we’re on the same page. “Shit. If we knew his name before now, we wouldn’t have needed to ask.”
She shrinks back a little. “It was a job. I needed the money. I didn’t have to like him.”
I can’t help but bristle when I think of Frankie being ogled in a place like that. The way the men there must’ve drooled over her body and her face. All the times they must’ve propositioned her. All the times she must’ve been groped and fondled and—
And he let it happen. He encouraged it.
I shoot up from the chair when it’s all too much to think about while sitting still. There’s something dark and murderous inside me, and now all I want is to walk into Dimitri’s club and gun down every single fucking customer there.
While he watches. While he knows the entire time that I’m coming for him once I’ve gotten everybody else out of the way. I want him to dread the final moment of his life, knowing it’s all about to come to an end. Nothing short of that will satisfy the hunger deep in my core.
“How did it end?” Evan’s teeth are clenched so tight I can barely make out what he’s saying. He’s feeling it, too. The need for vengeance. She is ours, and we’re the only ones who get to touch her.
“I slid past him somehow. I don’t even remember. I was so desperate, and it happened so fast. I was…” She lets out a little sniffle. “I was afraid he’d try to rape me. Or at least beat me. He was so, so angry, and I was sure he’d hurt me. So I picked up the first thing I touched. A chair.”
“A chair?” My jaw drops.
“It wasn’t a big, heavy chair. Just a wooden one.” Like that makes it better or less surprising. “He laughed right up until I swung it. I don’t think he thought I’d go through with it.”
“You hit him with a chair?” Evan sounds like he’s choking on something.
Her head bobs up and down. “I had to. I had to stop him. He fell on his knees, but I couldn’t have hurt him all that bad. I dropped the chair and ran out of there. I didn’t even get my last paycheck.”
A small thing to worry about, but then I guess that’s easy for me to say. One thought back to the shitty little apartment we took her from, and I know she had to be living hand to mouth. She must’ve been damn scared if she was willing to run out of there like the place was on fire.
“And that’s it?” I prompt. “You didn’t see him after that?”
“No. He was screaming at me when I ran out, but I haven’t seen him since. I never talked to anybody else from the club, like the girls who worked there. Nobody.” She looks back and forth between us. “Why?”
Why? Because this seems like a petty, childish reason to put a hit out on somebody. All because she told him she wouldn’t fuck a customer for money. Because she wouldn’t take her clothes off. Because she stood up to him and even hit him with a chair— as small as she is, I doubt it hurt him. Falling to his knees because a girl swung a chair at him. What a fucking pussy.
Enough of a fucking pussy to want her out of the way, permanently, over something as stupid as this. She hurt his pride, that’s all. Fragile asshole.
We have a lot to discuss, none of which we can talk about in front of her. I take her by the arm and haul her to her feet. “Come on. Back to bed.”
“What? Can’t I—?”
“No. You can’t.” I don’t care what she was about to ask. It doesn’t matter. We’re harboring a girl with a price on her head, a price set by one of the most notorious assholes in town. Everybody knows the rumors of the girls who disappeared while working at his clubs. Looks like they’re more than rumors.
“Please don’t leave me here,” she begs as I tie her to the headboard in my room, and it almost makes me stop. I don’t particularly want to leave her; I’d rather slide into my bed with her and forget about everything. But I can’t.
“We’ll be downstairs. You can yell if you need something.”
She looks away, clearly unhappy with my answer. Right now, this is the safest place for her.
Grinding my molars, I force myself to leave and ignore her soft sniffles.
She’s the least of our problems right now. And whether she knows it or not, we’re the least of hers.
