“Sash,” she began. “I wasn’t…. I didn’t mean….” She then forced a wide smile. “I don’t think I explained myself properly.”
Lord. She was trying to fix this. And Sasha was not biting. “No, you did. I got exactly what you were laying down, and I…” He moved then, coming to crouch in front of her. “I don’t like your tone.”
Oh my God.
I should have felt bad about the glee that soared through me then, but no. I didn’t.
This was what happened when you screwed with people’s livelihoods. Especially with men like Sasha.
He rose and twisted, walking toward me. He took the space beside me, standing tall but peering at the petrified woman shuffling in place, looking over at the door like she might attempt to escape.
I’d like to see her try.
“Heard you went on a little shopping spree with that stack of cash. Left those notes all over the east side.” Her lips parted in surprise. “I know this, because regardless of what you thought, I am not a stupid man. And whether or not I’m still in the game, I always protect my back, because people rarely stab you in the front.” The smirk on his face was downright petrifying. “But you? You tried for both, didn’t you, honey?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was barely audible.
Sasha asked a sober, “Do you know what usually happens to people who pay for diamonds with counterfeit bills like you did yesterday?” He paused a moment. “You will if you don’t pack your shit and get out of my club within the next five minutes.”
Her expression fell, and for a second, I almost felt bad for her. “You set me up.”
Sasha moved then, making his way around his desk and reclaiming his seat. “Yeah, well, play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” He checked his watch. “You got four minutes and twelve seconds. I’d get moving. You pass that time and you’re officially trespassing. You want to know what I do with trespassers?” He looked her over slowly. “I dare you to stay and find out.”
Martha was off the sofa before he even finished. She moved quickly, her heels clip-clopping as she rushed to leave, and the moment she exited the room, I turned to face my brother. He typed out a quick email before hitting Send. The chair spun, and he watched me for a short while before asking, “How long she been messing with you?”
My gut clenched.
How did he know?
He always knew.
“A while.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” He didn’t sound upset, but I knew my brother well, and the slight change in his tone was enough to let me know he wasn’t happy I hadn’t.
“This isn’t high school, Sash. I don’t need you to protect me.” Then quieter, “I didn’t want to cause trouble.”
“Yeah,” he uttered, taking his pen and tapping it on the table, then deadpanned, “How’d that work out?”
The ass.
My jaw tightened. “Not as well as I hoped.”
He made a sound of agreement deep in his throat. “Look,” he began in an offhanded way. “Our family has a reputation, and regardless of who we are now, we’ll never escape who we were. That kind of standing comes in handy. We are and forever will be Chaos.”
I understood. And maybe it was sick, but I didn’t hate it. Knowing people had that fear was somewhat of a reassurance. We never got taken advantage of. People thought twice before dealing with us, knowing if things went south, Sasha would recoup whatever he lost and more. We were a hazard people rarely spotted until it was too late.
Being a Leokov had its advantages.
“Next time you want to smack a bitch, come find me.” He vowed darkly, “We’ll smack 'em so hard they see stars without ever using our fists. You get me?”
Was he serious?
The way he held my gaze told me he was.
Why did that excite me? More importantly, what the hell was wrong with me?
“Yeah” was all I could say. “I get you.”
“Good,” he said as he turned to face his computer. “Close the door behind you. I’ve got work to do.”
And I just stared at him a moment. But when I finally found my feet and moved to walk away, I got the distinct impression that I would never truly appreciate how dangerous my eldest brother was.
22
Vik
The man sitting opposite me stared for a long moment, tapping a sharp finger on the arm of his chair, before he opened his desk drawer, took out something square, put it to the table, and pushed it toward me.
It didn’t take a genius to work out he was still pissed at me for declining a job a few nights back, but it couldn’t be helped. My sister needed me.
So, here I was, trying to make amends, because this guy was money, and I needed a lot of it.