“When do I get the money?” she asked instantly and Tack stared at her, his face twisted in a way I’d never seen.

Revulsion.

“Jesus,” he muttered, “I had your gold on my finger for years.”

“When do I get my money?” Naomi repeated, her tone sharper.

“Not even Rush?” Tack asked what I thought was strangely before I got it.

She wasn’t even going to fight for her son and she supposedly loved him.

That got to her and I could tell because her face was now twisted too. But it was not revulsion. It was hurt and bitterness.

Apparently she needed the money more than her son. Her next words laid testimony to it.

“When do I get my money, ass**le?” Naomi shot back.

“When I get the signed papers,” Tack finally answered.

“Works for me,” she muttered, swung her glare to me then around the group at large before she stomped to her car.

Tack prowled to me.

Oh boy.

Hop let me go, Tack tagged my hand and then I was clicking across the tarmac to the Compound. Once there, Tack pulled me inside and around the bar where he stopped me, tore off his sunglasses, threw them on the bar and put his hands to my waist. Up I went and my ass was on the bar.

“Don’t move,” he growled and stalked off.

I didn’t move.

He came back with a huge-ass first aid kit the size of which I blocked out instantly because of what its existence said about its owners. He set it on the bar beside me, dug through it, found what he was looking for and ripped open the foil pack to an alcohol wipe. I then performed a miracle when, as gentle as he was, I didn’t gasp when the sting hit me when he started swiping one of my two scraped and bleeding knees.

Looking, I also had scraped and bleeding elbows.

Damn.

Well, that slap was worth it even if I hoped none of this left scars.

After Tack finished cleaning my first knee, he’d opened another alcohol wipe and started on the other one, I thought it safe to offer quietly, “We’ll sell my car and I’ll put my house on the market right away. Maybe we’ll get a quick sale. And I still have a little money set aside.”

He was bent to the side to see what he was doing.

At my words, his body didn’t move. Only his eyes shifted to lock on mine.

“Say again?”

“To get the one hundred K for the kids,” I explained.

He went back to my knee, stating, “Don’t need to do that shit. I got it.”

My head jerked. “You have a hundred K?”

He tossed the bloody wipe down on the bar and went back to the kit to get another one, saying, “Yep.”

“Really?”

“Elbow up,” he ordered, ripping open another wipe then after he started working on my elbow, he answered my question, “Yep. Really.”

“So my old man’s loaded,” I whispered and his eyes came to me.

“Yep.”

I felt my eyes get wide.

“I was joking,” I informed him.

“I’m not.”

Holy crap!

He tossed the alcohol wipe to the side then placed a hand in the bar on either side of me and leaned in.

“Chaos has a lot of members. All money earned is doled out equal. But, babe, you’ve accepted payments for our cars and bikes. Those f**kers cost a f**kin’ mint. The stores are all way in the black. The point of decades of buildin’ that shit was so my brothers wouldn’t take a hit when we pulled outta the other shit. They did but that don’t mean that hit was big. We all live easy.”

If he had a hundred grand to toss around, he must live easy.

“I think I need a raise,” I declared.

He blinked.

Then he smiled slowly and I enjoyed the show.

After it was done, he said quietly, “But thanks for the offer, darlin’.”

“You’re welcome, Kane.”

His brows went up. “You really tackle that bitch?”

“I have the battle scars to prove it,” I said by way of answer.

“Babe,” he muttered.

“She called me the c-word,” I offered in my defense.

That got me another smile.

It faded and he whispered, “She signs those papers, we’re done with her.”

Better news, Tabby was.

“Yeah,” I whispered back, lifting my hands to curl them around his neck.

“All is in motion with the Russians. That plan goes down good, we’re breathin’ easy.”

He said no more, I correctly took it that was all he was going to say and even if that niggle came back I didn’t push it. I just nodded.

But I asked, “You okay? About Naomi, I mean.”

“Gives me the shudders, thinkin’ a woman who’d essentially sell her kids was in my bed and worse, as long as she was. But if this means the back of her, yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good,” I replied on a squeeze of my fingers.

“You need antibiotic ointment on your elbows and knees.”

“That might stain my blouse and skirt.”

“Babe, I’m loaded. Dry clean.”

“Right,” I whispered.

“Though, bad news for you, your skirt and blouse are already stained with blood.”

Such was the life of an old lady.

“Well, whatever, it was worth it.”

Tack gave me another smile but through it ordered, “Kiss me then I’ll sort you out.”

I held his eyes looking deep to be sure he was okay. When I was sure, I did as he asked.

Then my old man sorted me out so I was okay.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mr. Allen Needs a Lesson

“Shame,” Grigori Lescheva muttered, lounging in a chair opposite where I was tied to mine, duct tape over my mouth, his eyes on me. “You’re very attractive.”

I was breathing heavily through my nose. I had no idea how easy it was to breathe, having two choices to use to take in air. Now, only having one, it wasn’t so easy.

Not to mention, I was terrified out of my mind. It was hard to breathe when you were scared shitless.

“Such extraordinary hair,” he continued. “And so much of it.”

I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t. Even if I could, I wouldn’t.

“Auburn,” he whispered.

God, he was creeping me out.

“We could work something out, you and I,” he went on as I sucked in breath through my nose and my pulse spiked. “However, I think Mr. Allen needs a lesson.”