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“I will talk to Alexei, and recommend my pakhan consider this matter closed.” Grigori backs off from wanting to blame me for two dead Russians. “This makes you happy, da?”
I want to argue that we’re owedsomething, but a Russian agreeing not to kill me is a win. I’m taking my chips and going the fuck home.
I need to get laid. Christ, I’m gonna be thinking about the blonde, aren’t I? Maybe I’ll find someone who looks just like her tonight. Make her get on her hands and knees and let me fuck her from behind for hours while pulling her hair.
That woman’s voice is now permanently seared into my brain.
Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I signal I’m ready to leave, when Maksim, the Bratva enforcer who’s been silently leaning on a wall in the corner this whole time, says something in Russian to the sub.
When they start arguing, Grigori pushes me out of the room.
“Till next time, Riordan.” He says my name for the first time and it sends chills down my fucking spine.
I signal for Torin to open the door for me and I walk backward remembering to never turn my back on the enemy. I get my ass to the other side, putting layers of wood between us.
Checking the .50 automatic I refused to let them take from me, I hoof it down the hall, glancing behind me every few seconds. Torin’s on my six, but my ears are still on alert. All I hear is my pounding heart.
The knob to the metal and glass commercial storm door is nearly frozen. Typical for February in New York. Grigori’s primary meeting place is a ground-floor apartment under one of the many import businesses the Bratva pakhan, Alexei Koslov, uses as fronts for his primary crime trio of drugs, guns, and whores.
Could that woman not be a sub, but a bought-and-paid-for whore?
I haven’t paid for sex in forever. But her… Jesus, I don’t want to think of what I’d pay for one night with her.
Torin and I get to my Audi. “Where to now, boss?”
“Home,” I say, but the idea of what Grigori is doing with that woman clouds my judgment.
Fuck, why didn’t I get her name? Something tells me she means more to him than a sub. Despite the crack to her jaw, I can see that one is special to him.
Torin nods, but then his eyes widen, tracking over my shoulder.
I lay my finger on the trigger of my Desert Eagle, thinking one of Maksim’s unhinged scabs is rushing me with a knife.
Only I turn around and it’s…
Her.
The blush from possibly understanding me telling her I wanted to fuck her is now gone and she’s even paler than before.
“Get the fuck out of here,” she says quickly in an American accent with a hint of something familiar.
“What? Why?” Is all I can ask, over the dozen other questions flying through my mind.
“He’s going to kill you.” Her voice quivers.
“He?”
“Maksim. I barricaded the door.Get out of here!”
“No. I’m not running away.” I can’t wrap my head around the threat, plus her Russian accent isgone.
A small army thunders toward me. My life flashes before my eyes, seeing several gun barrels pointed at me. Glancing down, I see a spot of red laser right over my heart.
Bollocks.
I raise my Desert Eagle, but the sound of deafening gunfire erupts all around me.
“No!” the woman yells out and…
