Page 43 of Wrath
He made a fist, lifted it and made the action like he was knocking on a door.Yes.
She didn’t know what to say. She knew he taught Alek self-defense moves, but she wasn’t aware Alek instructed him in return. A warmth spread through her, still speechless.
Before either of them could speak, Wyatt tensed and titled his head as though listening to some far off sound. All she could hear was the music and her galloping heart. And, come to think of it, why hadn’t the bouncer come in yet? Surely they’d seen Wyatt accost her. Touching was against the rules.
Wyatt spun toward the door and shoved her behind him in a protective move. Someone was coming.
Twenty
Stridingdown the hall to his office, Dimitri couldn’t contain the buzz of anticipation rising in his blood. Falcon had been right. Misha had served as bait for the man who’d put Dimitri’s men in the hospital. How she’d known was beyond him. He’d placed men to watch her family, and she hadn’t returned home for the entire week. He’d been hesitant the man would turn up at all. Dimitri pushed open his office door and was surprised to find Falcon sitting behind his desk, in his chair, casually cleaning her nails with the sharp end of a dagger, white boots resting on his glossy desk.
How dare she sit at his desk.
Her flat gaze hit his expectantly and her brows lifted. “Well?”
“It is as you predicted,” he said through clenched teeth. “Security just notified me he is sequestered in one of the private rooms with the girl.”
“Good.” She stood up and tugged on the bottom of her leather jacket. “Then you should have no trouble with the second part of our agreement.”
“How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That he would come here.”
Falcon shrugged. “The same way I knew when you were at your lowest. Men are predictable when they despair. They go after hope as if it were gold. She is what he hopes for, what he craves. He stays with her family, even though she is not there. He wants her.”
“And me? What do I want?” He tensed, waiting to see how much she really knew about his fears and motivations.
“Power. Revenge.”
“I want the girl alive.”
“I don’t care what you do to the girl.” Falcon skirted the desk and headed for the door, stopping as her hand wrapped around the knob. “It is him we want.”
“But I want the man dead.” Nobody got away with embarrassing him. He wanted people to know that whether it was the next day, or a few weeks away, he would retaliate for any slight against him.
Falcon stiffened, eyes turning hard. Dimitri thought she’d deny his request, but in the end, she lifted her shoulders. “I don’t care what happens to him. Just bring me a sample of his blood.”
She walked down the hall and disappeared into the club, no doubt heading for the exit. She’d acquiesced to his demands too easily, and for what? A single drop of the man’s blood?
He should stop asking questions. What business was it of his? He got what he wanted from her: soldiers, drugs, weapons. It was only a matter of time before every man, woman and child in Cardinal City feared his name.
Twenty-One
Wyatt gavethe two men blocking their escape a once-over. Bratva. He could tell from the recognizable tattoos coursing up and down the sides of their necks. Wyatt could take them. A quick knockout each, little fuss, and then he would get out of there with Misha. He’d have to get downstairs, contend with the Syndicate Faithful, and perhaps a few more security personnel. Easy.
Misha poked her head out from behind the protection of his body. “Um. Is this because he touched me? Because we’re all good now. Just a misunderstanding, right, Wyatt?”
“Nyet,” the first guard replied. A scar ran down one side of his face to pucker his lip.
I know you.Wyatt shot him daggers. He was the Russian who’d tried to extort money from Vooyek—the one who’d instigated this entire thing. Without him and the friend he’d put in the hospital, Wyatt would never have stayed or met Misha.
“So, what’s going on?” Misha asked. “I have work to do, you can’t—”
The door opened, and Dimitri strode in. Five-foot three of suave, slick, sinner. His wrath watered Wyatt’s eyes. The scathing glance he sent Wyatt’s way would probably shrivel a lesser man’s balls. Fuck him and the gold loafers he walked in on. Wyatt’s brother Tony would have a field day with this dude’s misplaced fashion sense. A quick pang of longing for their banter after every mission speared through Wyatt.
Dimitri turned to Scar-face. “Is this the man?”
