The recoil of my Ruger .357 snaps instantly through my wrist and forearm as it kicks a single bullet into the chest of the tasered man’s partner in this robbery attempt. George, an ancient looking shotgun braced against his shoulder fires a second shot at nearly the same moment as mine, his tearing through the shoulder of the man before he falls, lifeless, in a heap on the vinyl floor. The proprietor throws a glance at Feliks and me, clocking us as professionals. He lowers the rifle, and I let my arm drop to my side, as well.
Feliks strides to where Hollis still stands over the tasered would-be robber like an avenging Valkyrie. He wrests the battalion-style stun gun from her. Without hesitation, she releases it and spins to where Petal is still curled protectively around the little girl. Now that the danger is over, it’s clear Petal is making sure the child isn’t traumatized by the gory sight of the dead man mere feet away from her. Petal’s gaze, however, flies around the room, taking in every detail of what will no doubt wind up being a nightmare that haunts her sweet dreams.
“I’ve got this. You take the girls and get out of here before the cops show up,” George says. I’ve read enough in the background file I ordered on him to be sure I could trust him around my Petal to know the man’s heart is good, but his hands aren’t much cleaner than mine. He’s not Vor, but he’s proven his value to thePakhanover the years in quiet, mostly off the books, ways.
“We were never here,” Feliks demands, his booted foot stomping on the still twitching tweaker’s face. If the drugs don’t make the man’s story of what went down here tonight nonsensical, the concussion Feliks just gave him surely will.
“You get Hollis and her daughter home. I’m taking Petal with me. Mind yourself, brother. She’s Petal’s best friend.” I give him the warning I shouldn’t need to bother with for no other reason than to remind him of the world of pain I’ll put him in if anything he does to Hollis upsets my sweet-hearted girl.
“Zatknis, man. You know me better,” Feliks growls without taking his eyes from Hollis.
He’s got the look of a thunderstruck man despite the carnage around us and the need for urgency. Perhaps, my warning prophesy from earlier has already come to fruition. Regardless, I have more to focus on right now than the mess surrounding us and the comeuppance Feliks is setting himself up for.
Petal isn’t leaving my sight, maybe ever again, whether either of us is fully prepared for me to claim her or not. I gently pull the child from Petal, careful to ensure the child’s face stays turned away from the scene, and hand her to Feliks. Hollis immediately follows, wrapping herself around her daughter in Feliks’ arms. Neither of the women says a word, and whether it’s trauma from what just happened or because they understand we need to limit anything the remaining robber might overhear, despite his battered state, I don’t know.
Hollis and Feliks carry Hollis’ crying daughter from the restaurant. The fearful sobs of the little girl and the distant sound of sirens approaching linger in the silent dining room after they’re gone.
Petal looks at me for the first time, recognizing me as the coffee-ordering diner from the week before. Wordlessly, she skirts the corpse on the tiles and its unconscious companion to where her backpack is tucked behind the counter. She crosses back to stand in front of me, fear and trust battling in her spring green eyes.
The trepidation mixed with her desire to follow my wordless directions sends lust surging through me. My cock, always thick with desire when she’s in my line of sight, throbs and lengthens down the leg of my slacks. Something about the way she trembles, unsure of what will happen next, but submitting to my authority without hesitation pings every dominant bone in my body. I’ve done nothing to earn her faith, much less her submission, but her instincts tell her to obey.
I lead her into the darkness, relying on George Peterman to handle the police when they arrive. Silently, Petal allows me to guide her down the street and around the corner to my truck where I help her inside. I buckle her securely, tucking her backpack between her feet on the floorboard. Before I can close the passenger door, she stops me with her slender hand on my forearm.
“You’re the one who’s been watching me. Aren’t you?” Her voice, so familiar from my days of listening through her phone’s microphone, sounds as certain as I’ve ever heard it.
“This is so. From the moment I first saw you, until death takes away my sight, you are all I watch, my Petal. And all I see.”
Chapter
Fifteen
CHAPTER 15
Petal
Am I in shock? This must be what shock feels like. I think?
Opulence surrounds me in this fancy bathroom the man, Zinovy he said to call him, brought me to. Gleaming marble surrounds me everywhere from the floor to the ceiling, yet even the tiles under my socked-feet feels warm and relaxing. I glance at the shiny silver handle of the door, finding it’s still locked, leaving me alone to process everything that’s happened in the last few hours.
“I do not hear the water running, little bird.” It’s not a question. The intense rumble of his statement is hardly muffled by the thick door between us. After hanging my backpack from a hook in the kitchen, just inside the door from the enormousgarage where he parked his gigantic truck, in at the massive mansion he drove us to, Zinovy led me up to this bathroom and instructed me to wash up.
He also commanded me to leave the clothes I’d been wearing in a metal bucket he’d handed me just before closing the door. Something about incinerating possible evidence? I hadn’t realized I’d been near enough to the terrifying action to get anything incriminating on me, but a look in the mirror shows a sprinkling of red mist over my face and arms that must have come from when George and Zinovy shot the man trying to rob the diner.
“Still not hearing the shower. If you cannot do as you are told, you will make me believe you need me to come in to help you, my Petal.” There’s a pause, and my feet refuse to carry me away from the door in case I miss a single word he says in that sexy Russian accent. “Or maybe, that is what you would like, hmm? You want me to prove I was serious when I said you are all I see?”
The reminder of his solemn promise when he buckled me into his truck sends a skitter of apprehension down my spine even as it soothes my needy heart. I can’t recall anyone ever making me feel so seen, so taken care of, as I have felt these last weeks with the sense of being watched by Zinovy.
“I can do it!”
I jump at his chuckle in response, realizing he can tell how close I’ve hovered to the door by how loudly my voice carries throughit. My cheeks flood with the heat of embarrassment. How is it I’ve become so awkward?
“Good. Get to it then. I’ll wait right here for you to finish. Then it’s straight to bed. Today has been very stressful, and you must rest.” He sounds so formal when he speaks to me, yet the few things I heard him say to that other man before we leftPete’swere much more casual. Even if they were just as bossy.
The shower is a marvel, and not only because I’ve been making do with quickie sink wash ups in between truck stop showers lately. Hot water steams the air, and the scent of lavender perfumes the room. Muscles I haven’t unclenched in months soften and accept this is a safe place. At least, asaferplace than I’ve been in who knows how long.I notice the bottles filling the inset shower ledge and immediately discomfort sours my excitement.
“What’s with all the women’s stuff in here? Am I going to make some lady wanna take my head off for using her shower?” I raise my voice to be heard over the pounding spray of not one, or even two showerheads, but eight.Eightseparate showerheads spaced around the enclosure that is actually, seriously, a room of a shower.
The bottles of scented bodywash, shampoo, conditioner, and even shave oil and a brand new looking razor are all clustered on a recessed cubby along one wall and look as if they’ve never been used. Whoever owns these luxury toiletries is bound to return for them. There’s easily five hundred dollars or more worth of fancy stuff I’ve only ever seen in magazines.
