He pulls a Glock and aims it at her.
Of my brothers, I’m the only one who pulls my gun and aims it him.
“Jesus Christ,” Joker says as he grabs it from my hand. To Selkie, he says, “Sit the fuck down until we straighten this out.”
She rolls her eyes and sits. “I really don’t have time for this. Sadie’s out there running around.”
I give her a warning glare, and she primly purses her lips.
To Kozlov, I say, “Why the fuck do you have Selkie?”
Kozlov is not one to be intimidated. “Tell me why you think this is your business?”
Good question. “You’ve met her kid. If something happens to Selkie, I’ll be stuck with her.”
Selkie looks hard at me. “We’ll be talking about that later, asshole.”
“If you can still talk with a broken jaw,” Kozlov interjects.
I take a menacing step towards Kozlov, but Reaper grabs my arm and pulls me back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I know what’s wrong with me, but I’m reluctant to face the truth. “He threatened her.” I look at the bruise high on her cheekbone. “He hit her.”
Joker swivels his head at me. “When did you become so fuckin’ pathetic?”
I ignore him. I say to Kozlov. “She belongs to me and I’m taking her out of here.”
Selkie opens her mouth and I stab a finger at her. “Shut it!”
She narrows her eyes. “I’m gonna let that go because you’re rescuing me.”
Kozlov stands. “Enough of this,” he commands. “You come into my home uninvited. You hit one of my men. You pull your guns on us.” He waves his hand at Selkie. “All because of her.” He says to Selkie. “Explain to these thugs why you’re here so we can get back to business.”
Selke looks from Stark, to Reaper, to Joker then finally to me. “My dad owes him 100 grand. If he doesn’t get here in…”
Kozlov looks at his watch. “Eighteen minutes.”
“Eighteen minutes, Kozlov will break one of my arms. Then the next one in two more hours and so on until the money arrives.”
I’m appalled at Koslov, but I also feel ashamed I suspected Hangman. “Your father got you into this mess?”
“Yeah,” Selkie nods. “He can be a prick.”
Kozlov laughs.
“You’re not fuckin’ breaking her arm,” I say to him.
He pierces me with his eyes. “If I don’t get my money,” he looks at his watch again, “in 16 minutes, I am breaking her arm. I don’t give a shit where I get the money from, so if you’re carrying the cash, I’m happy to take it from you.”
Selkie huffs. “He’s not carrying a hundred-thousand-dollars. I went through his wallet when we were camping.”
“Camping?” Kozlov says as if he’s never heard the word before.
Joker, of all people, bursts into laughter. “Jesus fuck.” Still smiling, he says to Kozlov, “You’re not breaking her arm.”
“He doesn’t have to,” a male voice startles us from the doorway. We twist around, pulling our guns and pointing. So do the Russian thugs.
A guy in his late forties is standing there wearing a charcoal suit and shiny shoes with a briefcase in hand. “You’re Selkie’s fuckin’ dad,” I snarl. I can’t believe it. He’s Selkie in a suit.
