Page 158 of Dominance

Definitely not going to go for tummy rubs.

And I don’t like hurting animals.

Before the bucket of fluff can tear my face off or snap my arm, I fish out my snack pack, some leftover jerky I keep for emergencies, wiggling the meat right into his nose.

“Go get it Booboo!” And he’s bounding off into the dark after the treat. Lucky break.

Not so lucky break: the bat clipping me in the ribs.

Or the boot to the stomach.

The hair drag to the middle of the room is less than ideal, but way better than the face punch that one of the remaining Dimitris lays on me. Kiss-kiss.

The next guy that drags me back up is an honest to goodness Dolph Lundgren look-alike, blond flat top and all. He pulls me up by my throat, gets right in my face.

“Whoo, your breath really does smell like vodka.”

“And you smell like man who is about to die.”

“No, that’s probably just pee. Nervous reaction.”

He laughs, a sinister sound, turning me around. I’m swaying, held up by his massive set of arms, my head held up by another gracious gentleman by my hair again. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to hold it up to see the bombshell that steps out of the darkness.

“Holyhooy!” I say, or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. My lips are acting weird. Numb.

And she just smiles. Like actually smiles.

It’s the prettiest damn smile I’ve ever seen. And I’ve looked in the mirror a whole bunch.

“So this is thekomik,” she intones, her voice sultry, like Adele or something. But Russian.

“Komik?” I ask, putting on the charm. The blood and drool dribbling out of my mouth really ice the cake. She can’t resist me.

“Da. We know of you. The Diamante who is joker. You put up good fight.” She glances around at the bodies of a few of her men, the wounds on the ones still standing.

“Does that mean I get to see you naked now?”

“Excuse me?” She glares.

“Buh. I mean your boss. See your boss, now.” Whoops. “What was his name again?”

“Niet. My father does not want to see you.”

“But I really need to talk to Andrey.”

“Andrey was my grandfather,” she muses, tilting her head.

“Oh.”Oh.

“Enough of this, Vanya. I kill him now.” My beefy assistant snarls behind me, giving me a hearty shake.

I wonder if he knows Rocky?

“Fyodor!” she snaps, all of her chill gone instantly. She rattles off a string of Russian too fast for me to interpret.

He growls behind me, going silent and passing me off to two other kindly gents who take me by the arms. Without a word he storms out of the warehouse.

“Bring him,” she orders.

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