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I grab my stuff and storm to the door. “I don’t know how she did it, but she managed to get all the way to her apartment.” I overtake Aleks in the corridor. “Tell Jasper and Bronn to go fuck themselves.”
Aleks jumps sideways into the elevator with me before the doors close on him. “Don’t stress. She’s obviously safe.”
“She won’t be when I find her.”
17
DMITRI
Wren’s apartment is only a short walk from the Egorov building, but for some reason, it feels like she’s far from my reach and I don’t like that shit one bit.
Any number of things could happen in the ten minutes it takes me to get there.
What if that old prick, Vittorio, discovered our little ruse and sent Dante to get her out of the way? What if the Irish have eyes on her and they’re planning an attack as we speak? What if they’ve already attacked and she’s lying on her sofa with her throat slit and my baby already dead in her womb?
Jasper pops up in front of me, his face drained of color. “Boss?—”
“I’ll deal with you two later. Right now, I suggest you get the fuck out of my way.”
He jumps to the side and lets me pass. Aleksandr shouts something after me, but I’m too incensed to hear and far too agitated to stop and listen. I jump into my car, which is the only one with the authority to park outside the building, and speed in the direction of Wren’s depressing little hovel.
When I get there, I take the steps two at a time until I get to her floor. There’s only one window at each stairwell, which means the hallways are powered by a sickly orange-yellow light that makes my skin crawl.
As I head down the corridor that leads to Wren’s apartment, I notice a balding, middle-aged man standing at the wall, his ear pressed against it and a smarmy grin on his face.
What the fuck…?
He doesn’t notice me until I’m standing right on top of him. And only when my shadow engulfs him does he recoil upright, his eyes bulging wide as he looks me up and down.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
Relaxing, he leers towards the surface he was trying to make out with a moment ago. “Walls are thin here, mate. The little filly in this apartment seems to be getting her holes drilled hard.”
Is that sound I’m hearing a moan?
Is that Wren’s moan?
I glance down at the pervert’s crotch and realize he’s hard. He’s fucking hard listening to my woman masturbate. Or at least, she’d better be fucking masturbating in there—because if not, whoever she’s with is going to die.
My hands ball into fists. “Enjoying yourself out here, are we?”
Given my death stare, he’s starting to look a little uneasy. “Uh, er, I was just… Walls are thin… She was the one moaning like a whore on her off?—”
My fist flies into his face so fast he never sees it coming. The pervert stumbles back, blood gushing from his nose like a faucet.
“You better get yourself to the emergency room,” I hiss. “Looks bad.”
He whimpers, staring down in disbelief at the blood in his palm. When I flinch toward him again, he lets out a strangled cry and hauls in the opposite direction towards the fire escape.
As soon as he’s gone, I turn my sights on the door.
It takes hardly any run-up to splinter the thing to bits. I step through the wreckage and the moans cut off suddenly.
But not before I hear the last echoes of something that makes all my blood flow south.
The door hits the Jimmy Choos she’s just left lying on the floor right in front of it. I can hear her moans clearer and clearer as I move into the bedroom.
“Dmitri… I’m yours. I’m all fucking yours…”
