Page 76 of Ruthless Love

The chair that’s just out of his reach is there to mess with him, but I take the opportunity to use it, swinging it around to straddle it before him. Staring him down, I say nothing.

Weak and tired, he doesn’t hold out as long as I think he will, free-flowing his thoughts with edgy words and empty threats. “Evelyn, I’ll kill. But your precious Gaby? Well, there’s a worse fate that awaits her pretty little body.”

I tug the Snickers from my front pocket, paying more attention to it than needed as I slowly unwrap it. I wave it to amplify my point.

“You mean like the fate that awaited Alexei’s daughter, Irina?” I take a bite, keeping my face expressionless, though a myriad of thoughts kill me behind my blank stare. I just chew slowly, then swallow every bit of anger and rage in the chocolate-and-peanut bite.

The smug grin that he pastes on his face is weak at best. “You can’t keep me,” he says with confidence. “Seventy-two hours, and I’m out. Then everyone gets what’s coming to them. Alexei too.”

“Because you haven’t done enough? I couldn’t figure out why he was with you. So loyal. At first, I considered fear. I mean, you did shove a nail through his tongue, pinning him to a table until he nearly died. And when the hunger and blood loss didn’t kill him, the infection nearly did. So, yeah. Fear seems reasonable. Logical. But for all that he’s survived, he’s strong. I had a hunch it was something else.”

With the next bite, I take my time, chewing, savoring, and making a show for the hunter who’s become the hunted. My gaze narrows on Dimitri’s, because I have to see what happens to his eyes—to know I’ve killed some part of him before the others tear him apart. To satisfy some small part of my dark soul.

For Evie.

“We found Alexei’s family.”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” Dimitri says, his accent thicker as his discomfort sets in.

Waving the candy bar before him, I keep the news casual, as if reporting on sports or the weather. “No, no. We found them. It was one hell of a rescue mission, from what I heard, but we got them all. His wife, Svetlana. Daughter, Irina. Cousin, Daria. Even found the grave of his son. What did Ivan do? Try to protect his mother? Sister?”

The wad of spit that flies from Dimitri’s mouth means I’ve got him. I swerve to avoid it, looking at him with the mildest contempt as I take my last bite. I stand, shoving the chair back where it was, prepared to walk out.

“Now what?” he asks.

I know I’m going to hell for enjoying the fear in his tone. Dread fills the two words so fully, I won’t be able to sleep for a while without hearing them. But the pleasure I take in this moment is mine to keep.

I turn back. “Now? Oh, now I leave you alone with Alexei. And as much as you’ll be counting down your seventy-two hours, it won’t matter. Seventy-two hours only means something if we’re on US soil. We’re not.”

I open the door, met by the intimidation of Alexei’s large, forbidding frame, the look on his face one I’ll never forget. Forgoing my normal restraint, I can’t help but pat the man firmly high on his shoulder, knowing by the fire in his eyes and the white knuckles of his grip that he must have heard every word.

Chapter Forty-Eight

AUSTIN

A few steps out of the building, I’m greeted from behind by rich Moscovian-laced Russian words.

“Enjoy yourself?” he asks in what sounds to be his native tongue.

I turn, letting my defenses drift away as I shake his extended hand. “Hey, Paco.”

He starts to walk, or pace, and I follow, circling but not really heading anywhere. “I’m a fan of your work.”

A laugh bursts from me before I can stop it. “That’s what Dimitri said the first time we met.”

“I mean your other work,” Paco says, leading me along with the charm of what’s undoubtedly a solid-gold carrot.

“What do you need?” I ask. I’m not rude. Getting to the point is how we operate in a world of action.

“Your skills, from time to time. Can I see your phone?”

Unconcerned, I hand it to him. How he unlocks it is beyond me, and I’m fascinated, but I don’t ask. I’m sure the feat is a natural result of every one of his secret-squirrel parlor tricks, but if I’m meant to know, he’ll tell me.

“I’m under P. If you see my call, I hope it’s one you take.” His sly smile widens. “After the third ring. Two rings means your work will flow through Mav.”

Without paying attention, we’ve ended up back at my car, and his pristinely manicured hand gives me my phone and a key. It’s small. Rustic. And very old.

“What’s this?” I ask.

---