Chapter 36 Sandra
SANDRA
"Let go of me!" I tug as hard as I can to escape Frank's grip, but it's like trying to break iron. So I try to kick him in the knee instead. "Don't touch me!"
He laughs and shoves me hard. My shoulder slams into the wall and I crumple. Right now I wish I was built like Beast. Even a big man like Frank would be pulp by the time I was done with him. I kick again.
"Jesus Christ, girl. Get the fuck up. We got a date with Kozlov." He yanks me to my feet, and then he keeps us going, pulling me along so I never get a chance to get my balance back. "Just fucking walk with me, and we'll have you back in the bedroom before you fucking know it."
If it were up to me, neither, please. I just want to get out of here. But maybe I can learn something that will help. Anything that could possibly give me an opportunity to get out of here.
The sitting room Frank pulls me into is understated and still opulent.
This room has dark polished wood floors with huge windows and custom book shelves that follow the slight curvature of the wall.
The Persian rug is large with bold colors, the chairs and couch are leather, and there's pretty vases on display, thick with flowers.
At the back is a large fireplace with a marble mantel, but it's not lit.
Kozlov looks positively casual, after the fancy outfit at the gala.
Seated in one of the leather chairs and looking out through the gap between the curtains, he's wearing jeans and a simple gray T-shirt under a creamy beige collared shirt.
Red liquid makes waves as he swirls his wine glass with a practiced motion.
Frank half throws me onto the couch, then takes up position by the door with his arms crossed over his chest. I'm not sure if he's guarding me for, or from, Kozlov.
"The Eagles took out a lot of my men today." He says it casually, but there's the tension of barely contained fury beneath it.
I straighten up in my seat and throw a nasty glare Frank's way. "I'm not going to say that I'm disappointed, but why am I here?"
He snorts, just a hint of amusement. "I wanted a drink and you're prettier than Frank, so given the option, I'd rather have one with you than with him.” This time his laugh is cruel. "It’s been a long day, and I feel like having something the Eagles do not. Right now, that includes you. It’s nothing personal. I would’ve left you to get blown up with everyone else, but so long as you’re here, let’s chat. ”
“Just chat?”
“How forward. I suppose if you’re already slutting it up for the bikers you’d be interested in a better offer.
I could pay you more than they do, and it might be interesting to see what the fuss is about.
" He virtually peels my clothes right off with his eyes. “But I don’t particularly feel like coming down with any of the hundreds of diseases they probably carry.”
"Boss, we need her for—"
"Shut up, Frank. Zeke was scum, and not even smart about it. You're better off without him."
Maybe I can play off the tension between them. "Zeke cried when they shot him. I was right there. He was a wimp."
"What the fuck did you just say?" Frank lifts a hand to slap me, but pauses with a look towards Kozlov, who's just started laughing.
"She's trying to rile you up. Don't be a fucking idiot." Then he turns to me. "Do that again, and I'll just shoot you in the head and catapult your corpse into the Screaming Eagles compound. No pussy is worth the hassle of a smart mouth."
I retreat as far as the couch will let me.
Kozlov's eyes are dead, like I'm looking at a freaking zombie.
When I don't say anything, he relaxes. "Good girl.
" When Zero says it, it makes me want to strip off all my clothes and throw myself at him.
When Kozlov says it, my skin crawls so hard I'm surprised it hasn't peeled right off and left the room.
Deliberately putting Kozlov and Frank out of my line of vision for a moment, I direct my attention out the window, at the pretty view over the city, with its rows of lit-up street lights, the ebb and flow of evening traffic on the highway that runs on ramps over South Side, and the animated neon company logos on the tops of the Blackworth skyscrapers.
All of those people out there living their lives without knowing I’m here about to die, and somewhere out there are my guys, and I pray that they're all right.
Frank's phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket, glances at the screen then taps it and puts it to his ear.
"Yeah?" The way his face darkens, I don't think it's good news.
At least for him. When he hangs up, he glares at me like I just pissed in his corn flakes.
"Another of my boys is dead. Your fucking bikers again. "
My mouth runs before I can stop it. "Good."
The side of my face lights up in a flash of pain as his backhand knocks me into the back of the couch.
Like a fire crawling down my cheek, the ache spreads while I run my tongue over my teeth to make sure they're all still there.
Seems okay, but ow, ow, ow. My eyes shut when Frank hit me, and when I open them back up, things haven't gotten any better.
He's pointing his gun right at my face. Is it my smart mouth that finally ends it for me?
"Put it away. You're not getting blood all over my fucking living room." Kozlov's tone makes it obvious that it's not me he's worried about.
"Then shut her the hell up. It's my guys she's laughing at."
Kozlov scoffs. "They died from their own incompetence. Leave the bitch alone."
“What if I don’t want to?”