I thought Beni would have had better luck teaching her, but I’m thinking she may be useless when it comes to needing a gun.
She turns around with a look that could kill and points the gun, firing a shot that embeds itself in the wall only a couple inches below my dick. My eyes widen as I look at how close she was to castrating me and look back up at her. She smiles and winks at me.
Her aim is perfect.
I reach behind me and pull out my own gun. My gaze stays locked with Saxon as I point it over her shoulder and fire. She turns around just in time to see the guy fall to the ground—dead from a gunshot straight to the head.
“Kage!” she cries, stomping her foot. “What the hell did you do that for? You ruined my fun!”
Shrugging carelessly, I put my gun down next to me. “He had your attention. I didn’t like it.”
“Your greed knows no bounds.”
I can’t tell if she’s really mad or just fucking with me. Still, she comes closer and stands in front of me, her arms resting on my shoulders while I place my hands on her hips. I pull her closer and press a kiss to her lips.
“Mine.”
She rolls her eyes playfully. “Yes, Tarzan. All yours.”
IT DOESN’T EVEN TAKE a full day before Roman brings us home another one. He’s a mouthy little prick, but all he’s doing is spewing insults at the moment. Though I would be, too, if someone had me tied up with a bag over my head.
“Where do you want him, boss?” Ro asks as he stands in the middle of the shed.
“The chair,” Saxon tells him the same time I say to hang him.
With clashing opinions, Saxon and I turn to look at each other. She holds her head high, unwavering, and while normally I’d appease her, I don’t have time. Time is dwindling, and there is no doubt that when Dmitri is finished with his business here, he’ll be on the first flight back to Russia.
And international flights piss me off.
“We don’t have time for you to play, Gabbana,” I tell her. “We need answers.”
She scoffs. “You can still question him while he’s sitting. And besides, if you hadn’t killed my last one, I wouldn’t need this one. You owe me.”
“And I’ll make up for that later. But right now, this is business.”
Instead of arguing further, she puts one hand out flat with her other in a fist on top of it. My brows furrow as I wonder if she’s officially lost it.
“What are you doing?” I ask hesitantly.
She gets frustrated, grabbing my hands and doing the same thing with my own. “We’re playing Rock, Paper, Scissors. Winner gets to go first.”
Roman smirks as my answer becomes clear—she has officially lost it. “Absolutely not. I’m not playing some stupid kids game to win my way. Ro, hang him.”
“Ro, wait,” she counters.
I turn to Ro, looking at him expectantly, but he doesn’t move. “With all due respect, Boss, she’s mean. I’d really rather not be in the middle of this.”
“Smart man,” Saxon compliments him and then turns back to me. “Come on.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I roll my eyes and hold out my fist. “You’re a child. I hope you know that.”
She smiles sarcastically. “And you’re robbing the cradle. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s do this. Best two out of three.”
The two of us stand in the middle of a makeshift torture chamber and play Rock, Paper, Scissors while the guy thrashing in Roman’s hold gets to hear us. She wins the first round and cheers for herself, but the second goes to me. The next round determines it all. We glare at each other as our fists bounce off our palms.
Rock.
Paper.
Scissors.
Shoot.
I throw out scissors, but as I look at Saxon and see her holding rock, I realize she won. She grins and arches up on her tiptoes, kissing my cheek and telling me good game, and then turns to Ro.
“In the chair, Roman my dear,” she commands.
He does as she says, chaining the guy to the chair and making it so he can’t move. As he goes to walk out, he pats my shoulder.
“Better luck next time.”
I grunt. “Fuck off.”
Saxon rips the bag from his head. His messy brown hair goes in all different directions as he whips his head around, trying to see where he is. When his eyes land on Saxon, he looks confused.
“Who are you?”
She pulls a chair up in front of them and takes a bottle of yellow nail polish out of her pocket. “I’m Gabbana, and we’re going to be the best of friends.”
He and I both watch her with bewilderment as she opens the polish and literally starts to paint his nails. She’s been getting creative with her torture methods lately, but this time, even I don’t know where she’s going with it.
When neither one of us says anything, she looks up at me and gestures toward the Bratva. “Go ahead.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale. “Listen. It can be as easy as what she’s doing right now if you just tell me where Dmitri Petrov is hiding.”
He snorts. “Yeah, okay.”
“It can also get a lot worse if you don’t.”
He glances at where Saxon is carefully concentrated on making his nails look perfect. “I’ve seen the things he can do to someone for making his lunch wrong. I’d rather take my chances here.”
“Gabbana,” I growl.
She looks up at me. “What? I’m almost done.”
The things I deal with for this woman, I swear. “Let me make myself very clear here. You aren’t making it out of here alive if you don’t tell me where he is.”
“That’s fair and all, but I won’t live past tomorrow if I do tell you where he is. And judging by how this is going, I’m guessing you’ll make it a lot less painful.”
“There,” Saxon says as she puts the applicator back in the bottle. “Okay, let me see.”
The prick smiles as he pretends to proudly show her his nails, thinking she’s completely unhinged, but he doesn’t know the half of it. She purses her lips as she looks at them and then shakes her head.
“I don’t like it.”
Getting up, she goes over to the table and grabs a pair of needle-nose pliers. The Bratva can’t see what she’s doing, but I can, and pride swells inside my chest. She comes back to our victim and instead of taking off the nail polish, she starts to rip each one of his nails out. He’s not expecting the first one, and I watch as his eyes widen before he wails in pain. No matter how much he tries to stop her, he can’t. He’s at her mercy as she pulls every single nail from his fingers.
When she’s done, she stops to observe her handiwork and grins. “Oh yes! Red is much more your color.”
“You psychotic fucking bitch!” he screams.
I grab the baseball bat that hangs on the wall and swing it, striking him in the face. “That is a lady! God, what is wrong with all of you? Did your mothers teach you no manners?”
He spits blood and one of his teeth out onto the floor as he sneers at Saxon. “That is no fucking lady. That is Satan with a vagina.”
She giggles, biting on the tip of her index finger, and I can’t help but admire her.