“That’s your tip,” I say. “Dmitri was kind enough to pay for the bottle. I expect it to be delivered in five minutes.”
My men accompany me to the office located at the mouth of a hallway that leads deeper into the building. Light pours onto my dress shoes as I saunter inside to the desk where Dmitri sits nervously. He stands when he sees me and rubs his palms together, a line of sweat dripping from his brow down his temple.
He swipes his forehead. “Pavel Sergeyevich, to what do I owe the honor? You know I don’t have anything for you until the end of the—”
“You’re stealing from me, Dima,” I say coldly.
“Stealing! I’ve—I’ve given everything I couldpossiblygive you, and I—Don’t look at me that way. You know it’s hard running a business like this in—”
“You were not given permission to speak,parasha,” I snarl, calling him by the name reserved for the lowest of the low in the cruel forge that is a Russian prison: the cocks who sleep by the toilets.
I click my tongue and turn to one of my men. “Kostya, what do we do to aparashawho speaks out of turn?”
Without a word, Kostya grabs Dmitri by the throat and slams the sniveling man on the desk. As he’s held in place, I pluck a knife from my pocket and open it slowly, allowing the light to catch the blade.
“You disappoint me,” I say in a level voice while leaning over him. “If the full payment and missing amount aren’t paid on time…” I press the tip of the blade to his cheek. A bead of blood pools to the surface as he yelps. “Then this cut is the least of your worries.”
His voice pitches high as I drag the blade across his cheek. The office door swings open behind me, and Liya stands in the doorway with a bottle of vodka clutched in her right hand. Horror infects her features when she sees what’s happening.
But I’m hardly bothered by the situation—more annoyed than anything.
I stand up, pulling a handkerchief from my pocket to wipe the blade clean. “Kostya, Volodya,” I state calmly, “Take Dmitri Alekseyevich outside. Make him understand.”
My brigadiers pick up the bar owner from the desk and patiently wait for Liya to move in before dragging him out of the office. She stares after them with round eyes while her chest heaves quietly.
“Liya,” I say softly. “Won’t you join me for a drink?”
She blinks rapidly while turning toward me. “What?”
“Sit.” I take the bottle from her hands, my voice hard with command. “Drink with me.”
“By myself?”
I smirk. “Yes, by yourself.”
Chapter Three
Liya
Terrified is nothing compared to how I feel.
The sight that greeted me when I walked into the office wasn’t what I expected to discover. But I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that felt a vicious sense of just desserts. Even though I know what happened wasn’t because this stranger saw Dmitri copping a feel.
Why would someone like him bother to protect a couple of random bartenders from a scumbag like Dmitri?
No one else ever defended us, I think as I nestle into a dingy couch near the desk.
I watch my defender open the bottle with practiced ease, suddenly itching for a drink. Maybe the drink will help me relax as I try to figure out what the fuck Dmitri has gotten himself into—and whether it’ll affect my paycheck.
That sleazy jerk deserves to get knocked down a peg or two, even if it means losing a little bit of money.
My shoulders are tense as I try to get a hold of myself. What would Janine think of our boss in that position? She’d probably cheer the whole thing on from the sidelines. Both of us have had our share of disgusting encounters with Dmitri. The random hands on our ass, the leery way his eyes focus on our chests, and the hugs that always go on just a little bit too long for comfort.
It gets worse each time, and both Janine and I know calling the police would hardly do anything except risk our jobs.
But thatlook on his face…
“Liya?”