Page 23 of Dimitri
With my gun still hot from being recently fired, I place it on the tabletop along with my palms before roaming my eyes over the group of men staring at me with an equal amount of fear and respect. “This chapter is being placed into involuntary administration. You either let it die quietly or take the exit Cristo just took. The choice is yours.”
Almost all of them hum out a collective agreement that I’ve made the right choice, but a handful aren’t as eager as the rest. They’re the ones I mentally jot down for execution, unforgiving that they could have wives and children relying on their ‘income’ to keep them feed.
Someone will hand their wives a few thousand at their funerals for food and expenses. By the time the money runs out, they’ll have a new ‘man’ taking care of them. That’s how fast things move in this industry.
“Luca, Davis, Porter, and Michel, you’re free to go. The rest of you, place dinner orders with Gia. You’re in for a long night.” A ghost of a smile touches my lips when I drift my eyes to Clover. “Perhaps you can show our unneeded guests the way out?”
The deadly gleam in Clover’s eyes reveals he understands what I’m asking—none of the four men named above will be breathing by the end of tonight—so I don’t need to mention the hearty swallow they do when Clover opens the boardroom door for them. A paid killer only opens the door for you when he’s planning to knife you in the back.
With Clover’s mood appearing as tense as mine, I don’t see the men’s deaths being handled quickly. If that’s the case, I might join him later. Excluding Cristo’s quick, unsatisfied kill mere seconds ago, I haven’t witnessed the weakening of a man’s pulse since I sentenced Eduardo Emanuel Cordova to death for his crimes.
Rocco and I took our time with Eduardo. His murder was more satisfying than Cristo’s, especially when he cried while begging for his life to be spared, but it could have been better. He could have pleaded for forgiveness for what he had done to Roxanne instead of begging for his own pathetic life. We might have gone a little easier on him if he had shown an ounce of remorse. Alas, even bottom-dwellers think their lives are worth more than their female counterparts.
That’s why my daughter was taken and my wife was killed, and it is the very reason I’m not leaving this boardroom until I find out exactly how deep my father’s ties are with already established baby-making facilities.
I’ve wondered for months if my family had anything to do with Audrey’s disappearance. Tonight I will find out. You can put your money on it.
Chapter Eleven
Roxanne
My race into the living room of the one-bedroom apartment I share with Estelle slows when I spot how she’s celebrating Thanksgiving holiday weekend with her new beau. Braydon has her pushed up against a wall our tiny television doesn’t come close to filling. Estelle’s dress is wrapped around her midsection, and Braydon’s hands are hidden in an area I’m going to act like I never saw.
They’re creating their own things to be grateful for, and I’m insanely jealous.
Who doesn’t want a hot, brooding man to pin them to the wall like they’re not slumming it in an apartment that would only look more authentic if it were in the Bronx? A mattress would make things better, but since the only one in this apartment belongs to me, I’d rather they keep their hip-thrusting to the living room. I can sterilize a wall with a little disinfectant. I can’t afford to steam clean an entire mattress.
“Wish me luck?”
When Estelle’s lips drag away from Braydon’s, mine pucker into an air kiss. I can’t get mad about her getting freaky in our living room. She lost the only room in our dingy apartment in a rigged game of rock paper scissors—she always picks rock, by the way—and although I would have the means to rent something fancier if I were willing to sell my grandparents’ ranch, Estelle has never once given me grief about that. As far as I’m concerned, that means Braydon could go down on her right now, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid. Our friendship is solid, and I don’t see anything ever coming between it.
Despite Estelle being my rock, I’ve been in somewhat of a rut the last twelve months. I was the only witness to a murder, run over by my boyfriend, and accused of his murder. To say it’s been shit is an understatement, but that is all set to change today. I have a job interview—finally!
A year of online courses and manymanyhours of free labor has been reduced to this. A permanent part-time position at a company I’ve never heard about in a town forty miles from here.
It could be worse. I could have been shortlisted for the position at the old folks’ home. Even someone without a college degree knows that’s a last resort for any twenty-year-old. I understand if you can’t wipe your bottom anymore, someone has to do it for you. I’d just rather that someone not be me.
Estelle smiles a blistering grin when I whine, “I really hope Dimitri isn’t as old as dirt. Momma needs some new pretties, but graveyard ready isn’t the vibe I’m aiming for.”
“Even if he’s as fugly as Mr. Mugly, you’re gonna get down on your knees and peer up at him with your pretty green eyes out in full force. This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for, and it’s offering thirty-five dollars an hour.” Estelle exhales with a pompous flare. “I’d fiddle with a shriveled-up chunk of shrimp for thirty-five dollars an hour!” After winking off Braydon’s stink-eye like it doesn’t hold any steam, she meets her eyes with mine. The humor glistening in them exposes her dramatic performance was more to ruffle Braydon’s feathers than mine, but it does little to hide her worry. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? I can sell ice to an Eskimo, so a college dropout with a partial credit for a double business diploma will be a walk in the park.”
Although she can sell meat to a vegetarian, and I wholeheartedly appreciate her offer, I shake my head. “My interview is in Hopeton, and you’re rostered on to work a double tonight. Our schedules are a no-go.”
“Hold up, go back,” Braydon interrupts, talking through his kiss-swollen lips. “You’re going to Hopeton for an interview with a man named Dimitri?”
Nodding, I snag my purse off the kitchen counter before joining them in the living room. Our apartment isn’t a loft. It just feels like one since it’s so tiny. “Have you heard of him?”
“Have I heard of him! My God, Roxie, did your mama drop you on your head?” He grunts like his words jab his heart instead of mine. Even if every word he speaks is true, being truly, madly, and deeply in love won’t stop Estelle from punishing him for talking down to me. Dropping me on my head would have been a kind thing for my mother to do to me. Estelle knows that, and now, so does Braydon.
After issuing his apologies to Estelle with only his eyes, Braydon shifts them to me. They’re riddled with unwarranted guilt. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, Braydon, it’s fine. You’ve got…Estelleto take care of.” That was close. I almost reminded him he has nothing but a substantial inheritance to worry about. That wouldn’t have been very nice considering he’s not once shoved his money into my face.
I’ve reminded myself time and time again the past few months that he isn’t one of the rich snobs I tussled with when trying to have my scholarship reinstated after my ‘accident.’ He’s down-to-earth and kind, and on more than one occasion, he’s offered for me to be his personal assistant even with him having nothing for me to do.
If life were about money, I’d accept his offer in an instant. Alas, I wasn’t born fighting for no reason.
“Estelle has a double shift tonight, so I’d rather you ensure she gets home safely than worry about me. Hopeton is dangerous, but it’s safer than here.”
