“Three years since I last saw you,” Mikhail continues, not even offering an apology. Seen and not heard. Sure, maybe if I could be seen at least. “How is your family? Your wife is still just as beautiful as ever, I trust?”
“Moscow Mike,” the younger man says, finally drawing his gaze away from me. While the other two have strong Russian accents, Fyodor’s is an easy, natural American. “How are things, brother? I’ve told you, call me Frankie.”
“What is this Moscow Mike? I am from Omsk.”
“Oh, come on, it’s a nickname, Mikhail, nothing meant by it. Gloria’s doing well. She sends her love to you all of course.”
“Hmm. Well, your wife has manners at least. She is a good woman, you married well. Don’t you think so, Egor?”
“Da, she is. Have one of these, Frankie, they are delicious.”
“Thanks, Eggo.” He heads over to the table and takes a seat, grabbing one of the vol-au-vents and taking a bite, then his eyes return to me. “Fucking right. Compliments to the chef. Anything else on the menu, sweetheart?”
He grins and winks, and I almost lose my lunch.
“Apollo always provides the best catering. I have always liked him.”
“He sure does. So, how about it, darlin’? Can they spare you out in the kitchens?”
My mouth falls wide and no words will form. Weren’t they just discussing his wife? And here he is making a pass at me? Should I be flattered? “No, I mean…” I hear the words coming from my own lips as I glance at the door, wondering how quickly I could get out of here if I needed to.
“Fyodor, you have embarrassed her. Ignore him, malishka, he has no manners.”
“Oh, that’s not embarrassment, Egg Man, you need to learn a thing or two about women. Forget the vol-au-vents, darlin’, I’m in the mood for something sweeter.” His grin widens as he opens his legs, and I can see the small bulge between his thighs. With a squeak of helplessness, I turn away, looking for anyone who might come and help me. The dealer is standing by, but he seems oblivious to what’s going on. Or perhaps he doesn’t care.
Most likely, he knows they’d probably kill him if he stepped out of line.
Please, somebody.
Frankie chuckles. “No need to worry, darlin’, I just want to peruse your, er, menu, so to speak.”
As they all laugh at the joke, I start to back away. This is more than any amount of pay is worth. “I—I’ll get another tray of vol-au—”
“Oh, no need to go.”
Someone’s fingers are on my shoulder and it’s too much. I pull back, clattering over the table leg and losing my balance. The vol-au-vents go everywhere as I grasp for something to hold onto and pull a glass of scotch down with me. As my legs go wide, the drink falls on the bodice of my dress, splashing a dark wet patch right across my left breast. I scramble to cover it, but Frankie’s hands are already on my wrist.
“Ohhh, hey, let me help you up there, darlin’—”
“Don’t touch me!” I shout the words, no longer caring who they are as I scratch at his fingers. All he does is laugh, his other hand going to the inside of my thigh.
“Feisty! I love a woman with a bit of—”
There’s a yelp, and suddenly his hands aren’t touching me anymore. In fact, as the room falls eerily silent, I watch him plucked into the air like a child’s toy. The world is moving in slow motion as he’s slammed against the wall with a thud that reverberates through the whole room, probably the whole casino.
I take a single, deep breath, as I allow my eyes to follow the hand that’s tight around his neck. Thick, gnarly knuckles twist and pop as Frankie squirms, struggling against his captor. His hands look tiny, almost comically so, as he scrambles at the wide wrist covered in coarse dark hair that’s sticking out of the sleeve of a dress shirt, diamond cuff links catching the low light. My gaze travels along that strong arm, to wide shoulders, neck tendons like train hydraulics, a sharply-chiseled jaw covered in a spattering of stubble, and eyes like…
Like a shark’s.
Like a predator staring down his prey.
My heart, already thundering, picks up the pace as I see the power, the confidence. If these other men are frightening, this new contender is terror incarnate. I draw back, wanting to get away, wanting nothing to do with whatever this is. I’m caught in the middle of something I should never have been a part of.
“Fucking touch her again and I’ll rip your arms off.” The voice is deep, earth-trembling. His words rumble in my mind. Fucking touch her again…touch her again…touch her.
He’s protecting me. Why is he protecting me?
I stare at the man’s face, disbelief making my lips fall open. Lights glint from the sweat across his shaved head, a deep scar cutting through his lip, nose to chin.