Menace (Scarlet Scars #1)(71)

Talk about some karma.

“Go,” Lorenzo says, his voice firm as he nudges me, making me move. I’m still trying to get my bearings, but I hold onto the fire escape as I make my way down. I’m surprised I’m not yet caught when I get to the bottom, grabbing the ladder and shoving on it, but it only budges a little bit.

Ugh. George is a slumlord. Piece of shit building is a death trap.

“Jump,” Lorenzo says impatiently, nudging me again. Sighing, I grab the ladder, climbing over, and dangle from the end of it before dropping to the sidewalk, right on my ass, with another wince.

Of course, this bastard lands beside me, jumping down, managing to stay upright. Grabbing my arm, he yanks me to my feet, nearly throwing me back down as he shoves me. “Go.”

I take a few steps, because he gives me no choice, but then I stall. “Where?”

He shrugs.

The man f*cking shrugs.

All casual and calm, just a flippant lift of his shoulders as he leans back against the building not far from the entrance.

What the hell?

“What are you doing?” I ask incredulously as he props his boot up against the building, his posture relaxed, hands shoved in his coat pockets. He’s just standing there, like he’s waiting.

“You’d rather fall than face him, so I got you down still alive,” he says, “but I’m not afraid, Scarlet, and I’ve never run from anyone a day in my life.”

“But—”

“Go,” he says again, louder. “Quit *footing.”

He’s insane, this man. Bona fide batshit crazy. Groaning, I run around the corner, into the alley, spotting the black Mercedes parked there. Whoa. I retreat, to go the other way, when there’s noise in front of the building.

Voices, distinguishably Russian.

Out of time, I dodge behind a row of dumpsters, overflowing with trash, wedging myself between two of them and squatting down, gagging.

Maybe this makes me a coward, I don’t know, but I’d rather be a breathing coward than a brave corpse.

“Where is she?”

Those are the first words I hear, as I strain my ears.

The voice is familiar. Markel.

“Who?” Lorenzo asks.

“You know who,” Markel says. “Morgan.”

“Oh, did you find her?” Lorenzo asks. “That was fast.”

“Listen, you son of a bitch,” Markel says, losing his temper. “You think you’re funny, but I find nothing funny about you. You are involving yourself in business that has nothing to do with you.”

“Business, is she?” Lorenzo’s voice doesn’t waver from its casual tone. “Thought it was personal.”

“It’s both,” Markel says. “Either way, it has nothing to do with you. We don’t want any problems. There doesn’t need to be any. The girl, she is Kassian’s. So stay away from her, leave her to us, and there will be no hard feelings. Just give her up.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Lorenzo says. “Because I’m already feeling like there are some hard feelings here, with the way you’re all in my space right now. Your breath smells like ass and you just spit in my face while spewing your lies about not wanting problems, and there’s nothing I hate more in this world than a liar, Pooh-Bear. Nothing. So run along and tell Christopher Robin that I said I’ve got a pair of nuts he can suck on, but otherwise, I’ve got nothing for him. You got me?”

I grimace. Kassian won’t like that.

“You’ll regret that,” Markel says. “You’re willing to give up your life for a dumb little suka?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my stomach angrily churning.

“Oh, I’m not giving up anything,” Lorenzo says. “All I’m saying is I don’t have her. Hell, you can check my pockets if you want. Here, look. See, she’s not here. Nope, not in my coat, either. I don’t have her, and I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I do.”

“Then how did you know to come here?” Markel asks.

“I think the better question is how you knew where I went,” Lorenzo says. “And be very careful how you answer that, Boo-Boo, because I don’t take kindly to being tracked.”

His voice finally raises an octave, the anger emanating from those words sending a chill through me.

“I did not follow you,” Markel says. “It seems you and I just had the same destination.”

“Bullshit.”

It’s silent for a moment—a very long moment—before Markel says, “Kassian will not let you keep her.”

“That’s funny,” Lorenzo says, “because I don’t recall asking him for his blessing... maybe because I don’t give a f*ck what he thinks.”

I wait for a response, my heart hammering hard, but all I hear is footsteps after that, drawing closer, closer, closer…

I duck further into the shadows, watching as two guys strut past. Markel, Kassian’s younger brother, but the other I don’t know. One of his many minions.

It’s funny, I think, as I watch them get in the Mercedes, squealing tires as they speed away, going back to Kassian empty-handed, that it’s his brother he’s sending, considering Markel had a soft spot for me. He was once the closest thing I had to an ally.