Page 21 of Wrath
But it wasn’t his assistant who came in. It was someone else.
A masked woman dressed in white leather entered the room like she owned it. Dimitri reached for the drawer that held his pistol, but before his fingers closed around the handle, she was on him. His hands were shoved to his lap and pinned ruthlessly by her knee. Razor sharp nails stroked his neck in warning—one push, one wrong twitch, and he was done. Long white hair floated around her head, still moving from her lightning fast approach. Two soulless eyes blinked at him from beyond the bird mask and she cocked her head, studying him.
“I sense despair in you,” she said, words cold as ice. “It is dripping like blood from your pores.”
He bucked in resistance. “The only thing I despair is you.”
“Nyet.” She mocked him and it only served to kindle his fury. “You are sad because your people are losing faith in their fearless leader. Your followers are leaving—starting their own businesses and stealing from you. Your play thing is playing back. Yourfamilydoes not want you.”
He growled. “How did you get past my guards, Falcon?”
Beneath the mask, her eyes narrowed and turned hard. Clearly not a fan of the name she had been given by the masses, but there was no other way to address her. She was an enforcer for an organization Dimitri knew little about, except they had deep pockets. A loan shark, perhaps, but Dimitri sensed there was more. With her money, he was able to build The Kremlin and finance his rise to the top of the Bratva in Cardinal City. All she wanted in return was a cut of the takings. It seemed negligent at first, but lately, she’d been asking for more favors. Sending his men to the Pierogi Palace to collect extra protection payments had been her idea and look where that had ended.
Her delicate jaw tightened, and she pushed off to stand before him, finger stroking the coiled white leather bullwhip attached to her hip.
A warm trickle ran from the stinging prick under his chin.
Ignore it.Don’t show weakness.
“What do you want?” he asked. “Money? Our debt has been paid.”
Her pink lips curved in a rare smile. “No. I don’t want your money.”
Falcon leaned toward the snake terrarium and tapped the glass with her white pointed nail, then she trailed a groove in the glass, sending a spine-grating shriek into the air. Her nail cut as though it was made of diamond.
“We have a gift,” she said, still fascinated by the animal in the tank.
“Gifts always come with a price.”
She turned to him, still smiling, and it was terrifying. “I can give you hope. I can help you win respect.”
“Why would you do this?”
She shrugged. “I can give you soldiers. I can give you money. I can give you power.”
“Why?” he asked again. He was no fool.
“Your club is looking very nice, Dimitri. I see our first arrangement has paid off. Did we ask for much in return?”
He shook his head.
Falcon opened the door to his office, and a stream of men came in—each wearing a floor length white robe and plastic masks over their faces—slits for eyes and mouths. Two men held a black case between them. They took it to the floor and dumped it with a loud thud. When they opened the lid, cash, gold and all the riches Dimitri ever dreamed of were inside.
“We ask for nothing in return… except chaos.”
Ten
The minute Mishastepped into her small apartment, after a long day’s work at the Palace, she headed for the shower. She’d left a message with Lilo and a few other friends with an invitation to go out that night. She needed to dance. She needed to party. She needed to forget about the demands Dimitri made…. and the two burning blue eyes of brooding silence that watched her all day from across the kitchen. Wyatt’s presence still felt tangible to her, so when the knock came at her door, only minutes after she’d stepped in the shower, her mind naturally went to him. Maybe he’d changed his mind about a little rumpy-pumpy, after all.
She turned off the faucet, pulled the floral curtain back and shouted, “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Wrapping a towel around her head, she quickly dried her body in record time. The knock became demanding, and she had to rush putting on her jeans and blouse. “I’m coming!”Sheesh. The chef must want her bad.
Misha grinned at her reflection, pinched her cheeks and then jogged to the door.
As her hand wrapped around the old porcelain knob, a spear of wrongness crashed through her. She’d never told Wyatt where she lived. But her warning didn’t travel through her nervous system fast enough. Too late, she opened the door.
“Lapochka.” Yuri’s big frame dominated the hallway. He pushed her back with a hand to her shoulder. “We talk inside.”
