Chapter 5 #2
One dark eyebrow peeks over his left eye. “Does that sound like it would be a good deal for me to make?”
He’s right; it’s no deal for him at all.
“Okay. Then what do you suggest? What would make it worth your while to give back what doesn’t belong to you in the first place?”
He studies me a moment, intensifying the heat building up from inside me. This man is an arrogant prick. Dangerous. Annoying. Rude. So why the hell does his full attention make my panties feel like they’re going to burst into flames at any moment?
It’s obvious I’ve been on the sidelines too long. Maybe I’ll give Nicolette the go-ahead on that set up she mentioned. Anything to stop finding her brother—her Bratva brother—so panty-melting attractive.
“You want me to give you terms?”
“I want you to be a human being, but I’m not sure you’re capable of it, so yeah, terms.” I shuffle back a small step when he advances.
Then he takes another step, but when I retreat, I bump into his desk, spilling a cup of pens.
“And if my terms involve you?” He presses the tops of his shoes against mine.
“Involve me how?” My voice is going to crack.
He’s making my vocal cords all twisted with the way he’s staring at me. No, it’s not his eyes. It’s the spice of his aftershave. It’s a pheromone. That’s all.
“I’ll give the weapon back to you, but your brothers need to tell me who their supplier is by Friday. If they don’t…if you don’t…then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”
“You’d hurt them?”
His eyes sparkle, as though the idea of violence is a great turn on to him.
“You’d hurt them over one fucking gun?” My voice completely reneges on my conviction to keep my cool.
“Such language.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “From such pretty lips.”
“You’re not funny.” I could knee him in the balls right now and drop him to the floor.
It would serve him right. But I’d have to leave empty-handed.
“I’m not trying to be.” He drops the gun on the desk beside me. “Take it.”
“Take it?” He’s giving in a little easy.
“Take it. You have until Friday to get the information I want. If you don’t, you’ll learn what the second part of the deal is.” He steps back, giving me room to maneuver away from him.
“That’s it? You’ll just give it to me?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” His phone beeps from his breast pocket.
“I—yeah—I did.” I pick up the gun.
It’s heavier than it looks, and I realize, I didn’t bring my bag inside. How am I supposed to walk to my car with this damn thing?
“One second.” He takes his phone and steps over to the fireplace, casting me a quick glance before answering.
While he launches into a conversation in Russian, I try to put the gun into the pocket of my jacket. It’s a deep pocket, but the grip sticks out. Lifting my jacket and the sweater beneath it, I tuck it into my pants like he had at my apartment.
A thick accented string of curses bursts from Lev. When I look up, he’s rushing toward me. He barks something into the phone then tosses it on the desk as he reaches me.
“Are you trying to shoot yourself?” He demands, grabbing the gun and yanking it back. “You have to put the safety on.”
I watch as his thick, tattooed finger flips the safety switch. Unable to think of a retort, I simply nod.
“I thought it was already on.”
His lips pinch together, and his nostrils flare.
“I’m not an idiot.” I continue.
“Who said you were?”
“I…” I have no answer from him.
“That’s twice you’ve accused me of insulting you when I’ve done nothing for you to think so.”
He’s right. But I’m not going to admit it.
“Like I said earlier, I’m tired and I want to go home.” I put my hand out, palm up for him to hand the gun over again, but he shakes his head.
Instead he walks over to a closet and disappears. When he comes back, he’s carrying a black case. I watch as he puts it on his desk, opens it, and settles the Glock inside the foam casing.
“You just had that lying around?” I ask when he locks the case.
“Friday,” he says handing the case over to me.
“Sure.” I agree with a nod.
As I grip the handle of the case, our fingers touch. Electricity shoots up my arm, straight into the center of my chest. I raise my eyes to his, to see if he’s had the same sensation. His expression is fierce, annoyed.
I take the case and spin on my heel for the door.
“Friday, Max.” He calls as I turn the handle. “Or else.”
“Right.” I hurry through the door, ignoring the guard standing there, and rush toward the elevator.
I barely managed to get the gun back from the largest Bratva arms dealer in the country. I have a full week to figure out the next part, but for now the boys will be safe.
It’s not much to worry about, really, if I think about it. If he wanted to hurt me or the boys he would have done it already. It’s not like the man has any patience. His little threat of ‘or else’ was for his ego. A way for him to let me have what I want without him having to give up anything.
It was an idle threat.
It has to be.
Or else?
I swallow, remembering all the tattoos on his hand, the way his heated stare roamed over me as he thought about his next move.
What could or else mean?