Dominic

I'll be takin' the girl!

Dominic

"I'll be right there," said my doe-eyed beauty. "I'm gonna, uhm, freshen up."

"Take your time." I released her and headed for the door to my room. "I have a quick call to make anyway."

"Do you want to message when you're done?"

"Naw. Just come on over. No need to knock." I winked. "I'm going to order room service. Want anything?"

"Uhm, yeah," she stopped just inside the door to her room, "tomato basil if they have it, and with some toasted French bread, sliced. If they don't have that, any soup will do as long as it's not split green pea or beef vegetable."

"Got it."

Guess the woman doesn't care for peas and beef—most interesting.

She slipped into her room and pushed the door shut. As soon as she did that, I headed into my assigned quarters, leaving the door open, then grabbed my phone. Accessing the screen, I drafted a text to Stepanovich.

—No contact from the Mexican cartel.

—Package is in my possession.

—Will work on extracting information.

—I'll send notice once released by the CDC.

Three wavy lines let me know a response was forthcoming. Stepanovich had never displayed an aptitude for patience, so I knew his was wearing thin. But I also knew that I had to keep a cool head with all the military presence. Plus, not knowing if the cartel had infiltrated any of the organizations on location also posed an issue. I had gone out on a limb by landing the plane, which had already put a spotlight on me, one I most certainly didn't need.

Another round of messages hit my phone.

—Take her to a safe house.

—Tima will text a location.

—Send updates to Tima or me only.

Timofey "Tima" Ruslanovich, the number three under the boss, was a little shit who skid into his current position when his older brother, Alexei "Lex" Ruslanovich, met his premature demise at the end of a barrel—Tima's gun, to be exact. Tima continuously uncovered so-called evidence that Lex was dipping his hands into the Pakhan's holdings. Something I'm still not sold on to this day, and I'm not sure I'll ever have that buy-in.

I drafted a reply, keeping it short and simple.

—Understood.

My single-word response was all I'd send until Tima texted unless something came up. But even then, some massive shit would need to go down before I messaged to call in the troops.

Tima's shit-eating grin came to mind. That fuckin' prick would screw his own mother if he thought it'd get him further up Stepanovich's ass.

My grandmother used to say, 'In a quiet lagoon, devils dwell.' And that fuckin' prick can't be trusted!

A thud came from Mina's room, pulling me from my thoughts and sending my dick on standby.

Grabbing the list of numbers off the nightstand, I came across a weblink for room service, then scrolled through the menu. I typed in a Ruben sandwich with chips, an iced tea, and a bottle of premium champagne, then keyed in a bowl of tomato basil soup and toasted bread for my little sparrow.

An image of her sipping hot tea on the plane came to mind, so I ordered a tea service with an assortment of flavors.

Another bang sounded, followed by a crash, and I wasn't entirely sure if it came from her room or the hallway.