“I don’t want your money. I want control of Mikhail’s midtown businesses,” I lie.
I have no intention of trading Natalia for a chunk of territory. Becoming a syndicate titan has never been my goal. But it is Egorov’s, and I want to see how badly he wants Natalia. So far it seems like he wants her with an inexplicable intensity.
Fury flashes across his face, and he curses. “No girl is worth that.”
“I agree.” The words are said with ease, but deep down I doubt either of us believes it. We’re both obsessed with her in our own way, or he wouldn’t have come here to make me an offer and I wouldn’t have gone back to Bloodsport to fight.
“What do you want with her?” Egorov demands. “Breaking girls down never interested you, even though you like your meat tenderized just like I do.”
I’m curious what he’s heard, but I don’t respond. I’ve never been with any of his girls, so he shouldn’t know much. Still, word gets around.
“If she breaks, I won’t want her.” I tap my thumb gently against my thigh. “If she breaks, she should go to someone gentle. Not me. And definitely not you.”
“I don’t want your opinion! What happens to her is not your decision. You won her temporarily, and now I’m taking her back. I’ll get you another girl. A dozen of them in fact, with whatever color hair and skin you like. Girls prepared to serve you any way you want.”
“No.”
“Be glad it’s money and women I’m offering and not a bullet! I have many men and many resources that you don’t. I could have you killed any time I want.”
“So far you’ve tried twice, and I’m still here.” My voice is steady, and my gaze is black. This is a dangerous game to play with no backup. Egorov’s generally coldblooded enough to plan his violence, but he can be impulsive.
“Give it to me,” Egorov says to his bodyguard.
The other man hands him a pistol, which he then points at me.
“She’s mine, and I want her. Call and get her here.”
I take my phone out and open a text message from the security officer on the desk. I show Egorov the clip of him entering the building. And then I point to my television. I tap the remote and a live feed appears with Egorov pointing his gun at me. He lowers the weapon.
For now, I’ve won. But there will be other weapons pointed at me on other nights because he’s not a man who can stand to lose. I don’t care. I don’t lose either, and Egorov can’t have his toy back because she’s mine.
“You’re a fool,” he says, snapping the briefcase shut. Leaning close, he whispers, “I’ll kill you for this.”
“When you tricked me the first time, I didn’t retaliate out of loyalty to Mikhail. But he took your toys away. He gave me the clubs to run, and that was an embarrassment you had to live with for over a year.” My eyes narrow. “Mikhail’s not with us anymore, not to deal with you, and not to stay my hand. You’ve seen what happens when someone tries to kill me. Yatlovany is still relearning how to chew solid food.”
“You think you could get close enough before I or one of my men could stop you? Never!”
I don’t react. Instead, I continue to talk. “Besides, the winnings at Bloodsport are backed by the club. If you try to claim what you didn’t win, that won’t go unanswered.”
His body jerks as he recoils. He doesn’t like being reminded that he’s not the only powerful man in town.
“I made you a legitimate offer. I’ve said I’ll buy her out of the contract!”
“And I say I’m keeping my winnings, including her.”
“For the month. And then you have to release her. What do you think will happen then?”
When I don’t answer, his face turns reddish purple, and he turns and stalks away. His henchman follows. I wait until the door’s slammed shut and a minute passes before I get up and lock it.
Killing Egorov is not the problem. I could kill him with my bare hands if it came down to it. But getting to him when he’s alone and getting away clean with his murder will be tough. Still, I can’t see an alternative. I resisted Mikhail’s attempts to draw me into the darker side of his business, but it looks like, in the end, I may become what he wanted me to be. Like him.
* * *
Natalia
I lifted the corner edge of the board covering the hole to try to hear what they were saying, but I only heard an occasional muffled male voice. It was Egorov shouting something at Alexei, I think.
The closet door opens and the board moves aside, lighting the small space where I’m crouching.
