“Why is the Ivanov Hound here?” Wyatt asked, looking nervously at him. Wyatt couldn’t hold his gaze for long. Most people flinched, seeing the scars.
“Calm down, Wyatt. Dimitri is merely here for security’s sake, to make sure you wouldn’t run again,” Vlad stated, rubbing his hands together.
“I won’t think of it.” Wyatt gripped the handle of the suitcase harder. “That’s why I brought my daughter along.”
Dimitri didn’t like the way Vlad looked at the woman, like a man appraising his new conquest. Then again, Vlad looked at all women that way. Vlad represented humanity’s worst, but Vlad was Vasily’s brother, therefore untouchable.
Dimitri cracked his knuckles, and the popping sound made Wyatt jump in his seat. Vlad threw him a glare, but didn’t tell him off. The fucker knew better than that, given Dimitri was the family’s best bogeyman.
Dimitri didn’t like the fact Wyatt never referred to his daughter by name, as if he wanted to disassociate himself with the filthy deed he was about to do.
“What’s her name?” he practically barked.
Wyatt’s eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like a fish.
The woman lifted her chin and met his gaze again, undaunted by his scars, size, or the gun peeking from his jacket. “Sonia.”
Vlad chuckled, as if this was all some comedy show to him. “Never seen the Hound so unsettled by pussy.”
Dimitri’s fingers twitched. It would be so easy to wrap his fingers around the comforting handle of his gun and shoot several holes into Vlad’s body. Calming his temper, he settled for crossing his arms instead. What the fuck? Dimitri had been this close to signing his own death sentence over a stranger.
Vasily Ivanov might value his skills, but the Bratva had iron-clad rules about family. Vlad was blood, and despite all of Dimitri’s contributions, he wasn’t a real Ivanov. His father, brothers, grew up by the gun and died by it, too, leaving Dimitri an orphaned killer.
The head of the Ivanov family took him in, taught him loyalty, and gave him an identity. Dimitri had vowed to give Vasily Ivanov his loyalty until his death. He could endure scum like Vlad.
Looking disappointed Dimitri hadn’t reacted to the comment, Vlad returned his attention to Wyatt. “Let’s get on with business.”
Shaking, Wyatt unclasped the case. Dimitri frowned, watching the man closely, in case Wyatt might be stupid enough to pull a fast one on them. The chances were small, given his daughter was beside him. Dimitri made it point to never underestimate people so he could never be surprised.
Desperate men did foolish things. Period.
Stacked dollar bills lined the case. Wyatt began laying in all out on the paper.
“Dimitri, let Tommy in. He’s my counter,” Vlad said.
Dimitri opened the door. “Tommy. Vlad needs you.”
He couldn’t bring himself to call Vlad “boss”. That title Dimitri reserved for Vasily. Vlad had a long way to go before earning Dimitri’s respect or that of his men.
One of the two muscle heads entered and quickly counted the bills.
Tommy traded a look with Vlad. Dimitri already knew Wyatt didn’t bring it all.
“Missing the eight percent interest,” Tommy announced.
Dimitri continued watching Sonia, who dug her nails into her palm so hard, skin bled. Her pathetic excuse of a father had known, he realized. Wyatt had no intention of bringing her back home with him.
“Y-you said if I bring my daughter, we can forget about interest. She’s still a virgin,” Wyatt said, as if that last bit helped.
Dimitri quietly seethed.
“Why don’t we see for ourselves, eh?” Vlad pointed out.
“Dad, what’s happening?” Sonia whispered, leveling frightened eyes at her father.
Wyatt didn’t tell her a thing. That only fueled Dimitri’s rage. What kind of father gave up his daughter to Russian mafia, to men like Vlad who didn’t give two fucks about rules?
Tommy started transferring the pile of cash into a small black duffel—clearing the desk, Dimitri realized. He had a bad feeling he knew what was about to take place, and it turned his stomach. Before Vlad took over the family book keeping, they’d never dealt with flesh.
Dimitri had never signed on for this kind of distasteful shit.
Wyatt was halfway out of his seat, but Dimitri moved to block the door, lips peeled back to a snarl. Sonia remained in her seat, looking like a pale doll as the truth finally dawned in her eyes.
“Good job, Dimitri,” Vlad called, like he was some dog the asshole could order around.
Needing to unleash his rage on someone, Dimitri shoved Wyatt back in his seat. Gunfire erupted, making him jump back. Sonia screamed, toppling out of her seat until her back hit the wall.
A neat bullet hole found itself at the center of Wyatt’s forehead, except the wound wasn’t neat. Chunks of skin and face had been blown off. Vlad pretended to blow off smoke from his gun.
“What the fuck, Vlad?” Dimitri demanded. “We kill clients now? We lend people money, they pay us back. We’ll lose out if word gets out.”
“No one will know. Bring the girl to me,” Vlad said, licking his lips. The disgusting son-of-a-bitch set his revolver on top of his desk and began jerking his zipper down. Tommy finished putting the last wad of cash in the bag.
Vlad raised an eyebrow when Dimitri didn’t move. Sonia started to make little pained noises. She slumped against the wall. Specks of blood splattered her face and the front of her top, all of it belonging to her father.
“Shut the bitch up. Dimitri, don’t make me repeat myself. If you’re not man enough, I’ll ask Tommy.” Vlad spoke in a bored voice, but his face told Dimitri otherwise.
Vlad took sick pleasure in claiming Sonia in front of Dimitri, knowing full well Dimitri had been entranced by her. Tommy took a step towards her, halting when Dimitri held out a hand.
“I got this.”
“Don’t worry. I share my possessions among my men. Just wait your turn,” Vlad told him with a sneer.
End of sample chapter
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His to Ruin Page 9