Page 167 of Dance of Devils
“Your bestsecurity measure,” I snarl, “would benotcornering me in a dark garage.”
“If anything happens to me!” he shrieks, “someone will email proof of your obvious intentions of double-crossing him to Mr. Moskovic. Proof that you’re trying to push that little sl” —he chokes as my hand clamps down around his throat— “Brooklynover Inessa to that ballet. They’ll also email them proof of her working at my club.”
He smiles smugly.
“You get what I’m sayin’ now, huh? Fancy ballets don’t make a habit of hiring girls off a pole, do they?”
“My arrangement with Dimitri is none of your concern,” I growl. “And I don’t expect you have any idea what a company like theImperiya Koronadoes or does not look for in a dancer.” I smile icily. “Nice try, fucker. Next time, let the big boys do the real mafia shit. You can stay in your grubby office at the strip club, rubbing your limp dick as you think about women who will never,evertouch you.”
Rage rolls across Lou’s face as he sneers at me.
“Won’t touch me, huh?” he sneers. “Think I don’t know what the ballet wants?” He yanks his phone out. “How about this shit then, motherfucker!”
He taps on something and shoves the phone in my face. At first I scowl, not sure what I’m looking at.
Then my veins turn to ice and my stomach drops through the floor.
In the video, Lou is at his desk in his office, beckoning off camera.
Brooklynwalks into frame, looking scared and flat-outgaunt, like she hasn’t eaten in a week. Her whole body language is deflated, her shoulders drooping, bags under her eyes.
“Please, Lou,” she croaks quietly in a small voice that breaks my heart. “I…I really need this. I’m…” She swallows, hugging herself. “I’m in a tough spot?—”
“Brooky, Brooky, Brooky,” Lou sighs on camera. “Igetit. But, look, you’re new here, and I just don’t know if this is the right job for?—”
“Please,” she chokes, near tears. My jaw clenches so hard I might crack a tooth as I glare at the screen.
Lou takes a slow breath. “Tell you what, kid,” he leers. “Maybe you and I can…you know…make a deal.”
When he starts to unbuckle his belt, all I see is red. When he pulls his zipper down and reaches inside, all I know is pure, venomous fury.
“All my favorite girls do this for me sometimes, Brooky.”
She starts to cry as he takes her hand with his free one and tugs her closer.
“You help me, I help you with the good shifts.”
He pulls out his dick and starts to push her to her knees.
…Yeah, I’ve seen enough.
In half a second, I’ve gabbed Lou’s phone out of his hands and hurled it at the garage wall. It smashes and bounces off the cement, rattling across the ground toward me, where I stomp on it with my heel until the fucking thing shatters.
When I whirl on him, ready to rip his fucking limbs from his body and choke him with his own severed dick, Lou starts to cackle.
“I havetonsof copies,” he grins. “Of yourgirlfriendon her knees, with my?—”
He chokes, his eyes bulging as my hand wraps like iron around his throat and squeezes.
“You prey on the desperate,” I snarl through gritted teeth. “You?—”
“Kill me and that video gets sent to Moscow!” he wheezes, his face purple as he claws helplessly at my wrists. “If…I…die,” he sputters, “I’ll make sure her life isruined. That ballet company will get it. The fuckin’ tabloids will get it. I’ll post it on the goddamn internet!”
My hand drops from his throat as he wheezes for air.
I'd like to say I don’t know how I do it—but actually, Ido. Because as much as I want to kill this motherfucking piece of shit predator, trading that pleasure for Brooklyn’s life getting dragged through the mud is not an option.
“Cut the bullshit,” I hiss coldly. “What do you want.”
