I see a few of the waitstaff huddled behind the counter of the restaurant’s bar. Surely someone will call the cops. If the police get here, maybe we have a chance.
“No one’s coming,” the man says, as though he’s reading my mind. “We have friends in law enforcement that are happy to look the other way for a little while.”
“Bullshit,” I snap.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong—the cops will get here eventually,” he agrees. “But they’ll be too late to stop me taking you… and throwing your brat off a fucking bridge.”
I won’t let him see my fear. I won’t let him see my fear. I won’t let him see my fear.
I repeat the mantra in my head until it’s true. Until I have control of my body, my emotions.
My days of cowering in corners while violent men do their worst to me? Those days are over.
I’m a don’s wife now.
“Last time I saw you, that little shit was in your belly,” he remarks.
I stare at him, trying to recognize the eyes, but I’m coming up blank.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Wow! I’m hurt,” he gasps sarcastically. “I would have thought you’d remember trying to knock my lights out in that shithole of a diner.”
“Sara,” I breathe.
“Was that her name?” he asks. “Yeah, she was a sweet piece of ass. Not that I got to taste it.”
He shifts, and I see a tiny glimpse of the ink on his throat.
The man with the eagle tattoo.
I shake my head uncomprehendingly. “Why are you here?” I ask. “What do you want with me?”
“Oh, I know exactly what I want,” he tells me. His tone makes his ideas in that department disgustingly clear. “But unfortunately, my needs will have to wait until after Budimir is done with you.”
I knew it.
I had known it all along, and yet the revelation still cuts me like the sharp edge of a dagger.
“You work for him?”
He nods slowly. “He recruited me and my men months back,” he tells me. “Of course, your man tried to do the same not long ago. But we’d already chosen our side.”
“Then you chose wrong,” I tell him with a strength I don’t feel.
Tamara’s fingers tighten around my arm and only then do I realize that she’s still holding on to me.
“Did I now?” he asks, sounding mildly amused.
“We have to go,” another masked man says urgently, as he comes up behind Eagle Tattoo.
He ignores his partner completely and keeps his eyes set on me.
“Your man is dead,” he says plainly. “And if he’s not, he soon will be. Budimir controls all the gangs on the Western coast.”
“You don’t know my man,” I hiss. “Artem Kovalyov will take back what’s his. And when he does, he’s going to crush every fool who moved against him.”
“Is that right?” he chuckles.