Chapter Seven
The muzzle tapped three times against his forehead before the heavy sigh came. “I really want to kill you.”
Lance nearly tensed as he looked up at Dusan from his seated position as he looked over some spreadsheets about the business.
He stared at the man holding the Glock. Ungloved and in his typical suit.
While Lance wasn’t strapped down in a chair, he was at a distinct disadvantage.
His own weapon was tucked in the back of his waistband.
“Not that I have a say in the matter but personally, I’d prefer you didn’t. Might I know what it was your son says I did this time?” His breath quickened and he worked to bring it back down.
Normally he would have simply gone along, but now, every fucking second here was one away from Jasmine and a chance he wouldn’t make it back to her.
I’m not okay with that.
Generally, he wasn’t one who believed in all that mumbo jumbo about destiny and such things but with Jasmine, he couldn’t help but feel this was another try for the both of them.
Also, it partially justified in his mind how he’d reacted to her when she’d propositioned him and he had tried his hardest to appear unaffected by the brash woman who by all accounts had been a whore and druggie who used her sister for her own benefit.
He'd felt something that day and he sure as hell felt something for her now.
“He says you met with some of the cops from the benefit yesterday.”
Cracking his neck, Lance nodded. “We did. Wasn’t that the point of the event? Connections?”
Dusan pushed the muzzle against his forehead once more and scowled. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back and lowered his large body down to a tall-backed blue leather chair.
“What did you discuss?”
“We spoke about snowboarding and Whistler.” Lance returned his gaze to his lap as he finished perusing the spreadsheets.
“That’s all?”
“Yes.” He frowned as he looked over the inventory for the most recent shipment. “Were you expecting it to be something more exciting?” Clicking into another spreadsheet, he typed in the code he was searching for.
“I’m suspicious.”
“I have nothing to hide.” And he didn’t—that’s all it had been, talking about winter sports and visiting Whistler.
“I do have a question, however.” He angled the large computer screen toward his boss.
“The count of what was delivered doesn’t match what had been ordered and claimed shipped.
For this item here.” He used a pen tip to point out the order.
It was guns, which were listed as auto parts. Front and rear axle shafts.
Shoving to his feet, Dusan slammed his hands on the desk, the Glock pushed off to the side as he stared at the screen.
“Who the fuck signed for this and claimed all was delivered?”
“Two of your son’s men.”
He muttered in Russian and Lance waited. “Anything else missing?”
“Not so far.” He reached out and took a drink of his iced soda. “To be fair, I’m only halfway through.”
“Save it and come with me.”
Without a word, Lance shut down the computer and got to his feet. He took another drink before following Dusan out of the office.
Two of his daughters were running through the home and they skidded to a stop when they saw him.
“Papa.” The youngest, Agata, was five and she had glossy brown hair in braided pigtails. Her yellow polka-dot dress hovered around her ankles.
“Agata,” he rumbled, bending to pick her up and toss her in the air.
Her older sister by two years, Iya, was pale blonde and her hair was yanked back in a single ponytail braid.
“You two should be somewhere else. Where is your nanny?”
Iya shrugged. “Michel had her cornered in the playroom. I didn’t want to see him hitting her anymore before he fucked her.”
It’s sad, her language and his behavior don’t surprise me any longer.
He set her down and made his way to the door. “Find your mother.”
His men flanked him and Lance trailed them. They piled into his waiting SUV and Lance didn’t say a word, just stretched out his legs as they began moving. Ten minutes into the ride, he withdrew his phone and opened his contacts.
My woman was the one he clicked on, and he sent her a short message.
Business is running long, not sure when I’ll be home.
“Where did you meet your Jasmine?”
“Running from the cops.”
An amused snort escaped the man who had been like ice the years he’d been with him. The few times he’d witnessed the man show something else was around his daughters. But for some reason, he found Jasmine entertaining.
“She is a unique woman.”
Lance nodded, thinking this was a basic conversation, talking about his woman. For a moment it wasn’t crime boss and lackey going who knew where to do who knew what, just two men in the back of a vehicle.
“I want her to do more for me. She is fast, thinks on her feet and isn’t fooled.”
Every instinct in him wanted to yell ‘fuck no’ to the man but Lance swallowed that desire.
“I don’t speak for her.”
Another chuckle. “I know, I wanted to see if you would try to keep me from talking to her.”
The urge to end his life for even thinking that he could be close to Jasmine slammed into Lance. “Like I said, my woman can speak for herself.”
“I know, but you should tell her to listen to me and accept the offer. It may be smarter that way.”
Anger burned but Lance didn’t respond other than a shrug. The rest of the ride passed in silence. When they pulled up at the docks, Lance knew his day was about to get bloody.
Damn it all, I’m ready to be done with this.