But oh, Jesus, this meant improv—something that was not in the script.
Gathering her wits, Teddy waved the gun at them and made a scary face. “Get in the damn booth and shut up!”
Marty winked just as she scrambled into the booth, pretending to cower behind Cormac, whose shoulders were wide enough to keep her face covered.
“Don’t move or I’ll blow your heads off!” she shouted from clenched teeth.
Cormac mouthed the word “overkill.”
Okay, too much. Next task. Stas. She had to demand to see Stas, and do it without her voice trembling in fear. “Where is Stas Vasilyev? Tell him to get his ass out here now. I have something for him!”
From the far end of the bar, a colorfully beaded curtain parted and a man, an enormous, bulky, gorgeous man, who pushed his way through almost in slow motion, appeared. The beads clacked together, falling against his long, lean body before revealing him totally.
Tall and darkly European, he wore tight jeans, a black knit sweater and a red scarf around his neck. His eyes were dark and smolderingly sexy, his nose straight, giving him a chiseled look, his mouth full and kissable. His hand was around one of the glass tumblers, his pinky extended as he rolled the clear liquid and took a long gulp.
He reminded Teddy of one of those artists, tortured and plagued by his creative genius.
Then he smiled and strolled toward her with the kind of confidence only a psychopath possessed.
Her hands began to shake.
There was supposed to be another step here. She just couldn’t remember what the hell it was.
“Ah, malutka. Welcome!” he said jovially, as though he were hosting a Tupperware party. “Come! Drink with me!” He slapped his hand on the shiny bar as he sat on the barstool, and instantly a bartender appeared with a glass holding what she assumed was vodka.
Stepfourstepfourstepfour—what the hell was step four? Was she even on step four? Maybe she was on five?
Wait. She remembered. No booze. Don’t let Stas take you off course. Stick to the plan.
“I’m not thirsty,” she croaked. “I came here to make a deal.”
He cocked his dark head, his ponytail sleek and sultry, his bedroom eyes calling to her. Well, she could certainly see how Toni had fallen for him. He really was pretty hot.
Hot and a psychopath, Teddy Bear. Nutball alert—do not sympathize with the bounty.
Stas gave her his best wounded look, but then he grinned. “A deal? I like pretty girls who like to make deals. Why don’t you put the gun down and we talk. We are civilized people, yes?”
Step whatever the number was—tell him the deal. Present the deal.
Licking her lips, Teddy gripped the gun even harder. “Not a chance. I brought my part of the bargain, now you have to give me something in return or I blow your head off.”
Was it blow your head off or blow your balls off? She couldn’t remember that part very well because Nina had been so busy naming body parts, she lost track.
Stas’s head fell back on his shoulders when he laughed, revealing the deep olive tone to his skin. As he laughed, so did his goons. Because that’s what goons did. When the boss mock-laughed, you joined in.
She caught sight of Andre, the slimy, smelly prick who’d jammed a knife in her gut, and fought the impulse to rush him and knock his disgusting ass off the barstool.
Stas popped his lips and batted his eyelashes. “Tell me, my krasavitsa, what can Stas do for you? You say all these threats, but you do not say what is on your mind. Get to it. I’m a very busy man.”
Step six. Make him admit he’s a murderer.
Teddy gulped, running her tongue over her dry lower lip. “You can leave me the hell alone! I had nothing to do with any of this. That dirty cop Carmine sent me on a wild goose chase to help him clean up his mess, the incompetent jackhole, because he was too stupid to figure out where Vitali was on his own.”
Someone burst from the shadows with a hiss of rage. “I’ll kill you, you fucking bitch!”
Enter Carmine. Perfect. Two birds, one stone. She hadn’t expected him to be here, but she was prepared for him to show up. This was in the script.
Teddy waved the gun at him, her hands no longer shaking. Rather, she wanted to rip his face from his body. “Like when you tried to take me out on the Island? Back off, chicken-shit!” she screamed, spit flying from her mouth. “Or I’ll blow your head off, too! You used me to find the man you wanted to kill and then you came gunning for me. First you tried to kill me, which you blew sky-high, you bumbling idiot, then you broadcast my face all over the news to smoke me out because you’re too stupid to come and get me yourself, you big tattletale!”
Tattletale? Good use of forceful adjectives, Teddy Bear.
Stas was on his feet in an instant, grabbing Carmine and hurling him to the ground. He rammed his heel into his chest and pinned him to the floor. “Were you a mean boy to my malutka?” he taunted down at Carmine.