“I’m here to let you know that if you go to prison, your debt is not erased. If you try to negate on your deal, you won’t make it to prison. And if you try to run…” He trailed off, pinning him with that deadly gaze, and smiled. It was like looking at a great white shark smiling. “I don’t enjoy many things about my job, but I will enjoy hurting you.”
“Taylor Arenas stole my money,” Neal blurted, immediately wondering if he’d just signed his own death warrant. Admitting he didn’t have the cash was stupid, but if the Russians had found him here, he knew they’d find him if he ran. It was just a matter of time. Sure he had his boat, but that was part of Neal’s backup plan if he had to go on the run. He couldn’t offer it up to the Russians.
The man brushed an imaginary piece of lint off his black, leather jacket. The guy always wore black, like the grim fucking reaper. Probably because blood wouldn’t show up on the color as well. The thought made Neal start to shake, but he tried to hide it and crossed his arms over his chest.
“That concerns me how?” Alexei sounded bored.
“The money I’d earmarked for your boss… She stole it.”
The Russian shrugged. “You owe us. Not her. And it’s not my problem if you can’t hold on to your money. You have less than two days. Bring the cash by noon. You know the place. If you can’t make the drop, just kill yourself. Don’t make me chase you. Oh, I wouldn’t go back to your place if I were you. The police are watching it.” Without another glance, the man left, barely making a sound.
As soon as the enforcer was gone, Neal clutched the island counter with both hands, using it for support as he dragged in a long breath. If the Russians knew the police were after him they obviously had a contact, or more likely multiple contacts, in the police department. And if the cops were definitely watching his place, Neal was absolutely fucked. They wanted him for questioning because they had something on him—knew he was guilty. They wouldn’t waste resources otherwise.
Unless he could get that money back. If he could get it back, he could pay off the Russians and disappear. Not his original plan, but he was willing to adapt. Because he couldn’t look over his shoulder every night waiting for Alexei or someone like him to jump out of the shadows and slice him to ribbons. The man would make him suffer for days, weeks, make him eat his own dick. Neal had heard the rumors of his viciousness and didn’t want to end up on the receiving end of Alexei’s wrath.
His only option was to go after Taylor himself, terrify her enough that he forced her into giving him his money back. He didn’t mind exacting revenge against her. Not at all. The thought of hurting her, making her suffer, was just icing on the cake.
Yes, he would get the money one way or another.
Chapter 9
“My brain hurts,” Taylor muttered from her seat next to Roman. They were in the back seat of one of the Powers Group’s SUV’s with Escobar driving them.
Roman didn’t blame her. After spending the last few hours at the police station with Detective Durnin, he knew she had to be exhausted. “We don’t have to go to Powers Group. I’m sure someone can bring you all your stuff,” he murmured. It was going to be hard for her to go there, something he wasn’t sure she fully realized.
“He’s right. This isn’t necessary,” Escobar agreed.
Taylor shook her head once, the stubborn set of her jaw making it clear she was doing what she wanted. “No. I want to.”
Roman leaned back against the seat and didn’t push her. Taylor needed her cell phone and other belongings left in her car at the company parking garage but he had a feeling she wanted to go to her place of employment for another reason. Maybe to face it after what had happened, he wasn’t sure.
They hadn’t had any privacy since heading to the police station. He’d waited there with her while she answered questions—sometimes the same ones over and over—then filled out her official report. They’d also taken pictures of her wound and added it to the file the hospital in Vegas had sent over and the bloody clothes she’d given them. He’d insisted on changing her bandage and had made sure she took her antibiotics.
He found he liked taking care of her, looking out for her. Her words from earlier, that she wasn’t looking for anything serious, kept playing in his head all day. Annoying the shit out of him. He knew he should be fucking thrilled she didn’t want anything serious. But the knowledge rankled him in a way he didn’t understand.
Unable to stop himself, his gaze strayed to her profile, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. She’d pulled her long, dark hair into a ponytail. It was mostly straight but there were a few natural waves to it that gave her a sexy, just-got-back-from-the-beach look. Her blue eyes seemed even brighter in the interior of the SUV, shocking against her bronze skin. Skin he wanted to stroke his fingers and tongue over, nibbling on her jaw, kissing his way down the long column of her neck, before burying his face between her breasts. The shirt his brother had given her had a V-neck and even though she was petite, the woman was top heavy.