Page 25 of Deadly Protector
CHAPTERNINE
Dimitri remained half hidden by the oversized sculpture of a shark, watching Ryba enter the room. There were five other people in the art museum’s room featuring a local artist from a century ago. Ryba wore jeans, a T-shirt and boots. And he had a mean look to him.
Dimitri had known enough men like this one. Angry at the world. Entitled. Hell, he could have gone down that path himself at one time if not for luck and a different direction shoved in front of him.
Hands in his pockets, Ryba glanced around the room, looking at the other people slowly walking around, talking quietly. He was sizing them up, checking for threats.
When no one appeared to follow Ryba, Dimitri stepped out from behind the sculpture.
Ryba turned immediately, his gaze narrowing on Dimitri. He didn’t back up, just eyed him cautiously, his mouth in a hard line as he looked him over.
Dimitri stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
Ryba looked around then and motioned with his chin toward an oversized window that had a bench in front of it. Overlooking a garden, sunlight streamed in, coating that part of the room.
Though Dimitri didn’t like making himself a target, Lyosha had thankfully answered his call on the way here and was in the garden. Two of Viktor’s other guys were also at the museum, covertly moving around.
“I don’t even know your fucking name,” Ryba said as he sat next to Dimitri.
“Dimitri Lenkov.” He didn’t love the idea of giving this dick his name, but he needed Ryba to look him up, to confirm that he wasn’t law enforcement. It was the only way he was likely to get the guy to talk to him.
“You wearing a wire?”
He scoffed. “First of all, cops don’t use actual wires anymore. And second, fuck you. I want to know why the hell you’re harassing Zamira.”
“She has something that belongs to me.”
“What is it? She doesn’t want anything to do with you. So let’s clear this up today and everyone can move on.”
“She knows exactly what she has.”
“No. She doesn’t. If you gave something to her dead husband, she doesn’t have it. And she has no clue what you want. But if you tell me, she can look for it. She saved some of his things for their kids.”
Ryba paused, eyeing him up and down. “You sure don’t look like a cop.”
“Because I’m not, dumbass.”
Ryba bristled slightly. “You work for Red Stone Security?”
The question surprised him, but he kept his expression neutral. “Sometimes.” He decided to go for honesty. This could be some kind of test.
Ryba frowned, looked away. “I didn’t know a Caldwell was at the bakery this morning.”
Ah, that was why he asked. “Otherwise it would have been okay for you to rough up and threaten a woman? A petite woman who weighs maybe half what you do?” Dimitri’s hands tightened into fists and he had to force himself to breathe evenly when all he wanted to do was choke the guy out.
“I didn’t hurt anyone.”
Dimitri wasn’t sure if the denial was because Ryba thought he was recording their conversation or what. So he snorted. “Tell me what you want, and if she has it, you’ll get it. You have to know that she wasn’t aware of her husband’s lifestyle. Not until right before he died in that accident.”
Ryba shifted slightly, glancing away momentarily at the word accident, making Dimitri think Zamira had been right to question if her husband’s death had been an accident at all.
“She should have what I need though.”
“What. Is. It.” Dimitri’s patience was running low.
Ryba shoved to his feet. “I’m going to look you up, see if you’re who you say you are. If you are, we’ll talk again.”
Dimitri was up before he’d finished, turning to face him and hoping Ryba saw the predator in his eyes. “You do that. And once you’ve done your homework, we’re wrapping up whatever this is. The only reason you’re alive right now is because of who you’re related to.”
