Page 92 of Toxic Salvation
“Really?” He looks toward the fountain, where Charity is laughing at something Luka said. “Because Charity looks like she’s having a good time.”
“Been watching her a lot, have you?”
He raises his eyebrows. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
“I might put in a good word for you if you tell your guys to back off a little.”
“Back off how?” he asks suspiciously.
“Less Robocop, more human.”
His nose scrunches up. “Pretty sure that wasn’t in their training.”
“Pavel!”
He sighs. “Kovan will kill me if I tell them to ease up and something happens. Seriously, he’ll have my balls on a platter.”
“Speaking of your balls, I’ll tell Charity I accidentally walked in on you naked and you have the smallest package I’ve ever seen.”
Pavel looks stunned. “That’s dirty.”
I shrug. “I’m hanging around Bratva types now. I’ve picked up a few tricks.”
“You’re ruthless.”
“I’m asking for a little relief. Please, Pavel?”
“God!” He groans. “Stop with the puppy dog eyes. I can’t deal with it. Fine! I’ll tell them to back off. But I’m sticking to you like glue.”
“I’ll take it!”
Laughing, I send Pavel off to relay the orders to his men while I join Charity and Luka by the fountain.
“What was that about?” Charity asks while Luka makes a wish with the penny she gave him.
“Hopefully, it means it’ll just be the four of us for the rest of the day.”
“The bodyguards are leaving?” Charity asks hopefully.
“Not quite,” I say. “But they’ll give us some space. Took some convincing to get Pavel to agree.”
“Hmm.” Charity licks her lips. “Maybe you can convince him to take his shirt off for me.”
“I don’t need to convince him of anything. The clothes are already halfway gone.”
Charity grabs my hand. “Did he say something?”
Before I can answer, Pavel heads our way and Charity drops my hand, immediately fussing with her hair.
Looks like Luka and I are playing third and fourth wheel today. Which I’m fine with. I link arms with him and we wander down the endless corridors of the mall Charity insisted we visit. When I glance back, I can barely see our intimidating entourage.
I can feel myself starting to relax.
That lasts about thirty minutes, until Pavel starts herding us from shop to shop like he’s trying to speed us through some kind of timed obstacle course.
“What the hell, Pavel?” I demand when he yanks a pajama top out of my hands and shoves it back on the rack.
“We’re leaving,” he answers.
