A Pole and a Gun

7 - That's the way it is

♧ TRIXIE

I know Antonia is just pretending to be strong for my sake, but the double entendre of 'keep running' stung.

I have been running my entire life. I ran from college, from home, from every time in my life that things got serious. The only time I wasn't running, I ended up stuck in this mess.

The queen of hiding herself behind a persona is the one giving me a side glance as I keep shoving things into the bag. I roll my eyes at her, causing her to retreat into the living room. She knows I don't want people present when we talk about my past.

"Nox," I hear Dimitri speaking into his earpiece.

I glance up and see the scowl on his face as his brows furrow together. He is not receiving good news from his guard.

Deciding to leave him to his conversation, I continue packing up my shit. I bend over to check under my bed and I pull out the box with purses and other accessories.

I wiggle my ass slightly, knowing Dimitri is watching me, even if he is on the phone. I know the effect I have on men, playing into their lust to gain my extra buck of the night. Dimitri isn't immune to my curves, and he landed right in my hands when he showed up at the gym.

"We need to go," Dimitri suddenly growls behind me.

"Give me a moment," I hold up my hand as I pull hard on the item I want to free from the box.

The first designer bag I bought with my own money when I arrived in Las Vegas, a Michael Kors. I hug it to my chest, remembering the feeling of euphoria I had when I put the money down on the counter of the swanky shop.

"That's a fake one," Dimitri takes the pale pink bag, peeling it away from my fingers to hold it up for further inspection.

I can't believe what he's saying, and I look dumbfounded at him for a moment until the words tumble from my mouth. "What? I gave a real sleazy guy a private dance for this."

My mouth is agape as I stare at my captor.

"Well, it's fake," he states with no emotion in his tone. "See? The logo is all wrong." He motions for the letters on the canvas and with his other hand, closes my jaw.

"Damn, I gave two hundred bucks for a fake purse," I take the travel crossbody back from him and I curse and fire expletives from my lips, shoving the rest of the items into my gym bag and closing the zipper with anger.

"Shut the fuck up and let's get out of here," he seems impatient as he taps his leather clad foot on the floor. "I'll get you a real one if you fucking stop yapping."

Dimitri hauls the bag over his shoulder and grabs my wrist. It's the second time we have physical contact and feeling the warmth of his hand over my skin does strange things to me.

He's not a soft guy and I feel the marks of his fingers setting into my flesh, bruising. Who would have known that I liked the pinch of pain to his touch?

Nox is nowhere to be found and only Dimitri's car is waiting for us in the parking lot. There is something going on.

"Sit," he barks. "Put your seatbelt on."

He swings my bag in the trunk and in the blink of an eye, he is next to me and firing up the engine.

"What's wrong?" I ask, fearing the strange look that has settled on his face. Mischief glows in his eyes and a wicked smile dances over his lips.

"My men found a lead," he explains while driving the Maserati like a maniac. "And we are checking out another one."

"We?" I enquire as his words settle in.

What the fuck is a stripper going to do against the mafia?

An icy chill wracks over my spine and I'm sending a mayday in my head to any deity, higher being, anyone who will hear me to get out of this fucked up mess alive.

"So, I need you to stay behind me, shut up and trust me," he gives me a side glance, so I know he's not kidding around. "You're my key to this. I can't let you stay in the car while I go inside."

"My cute little ass going into some mob den without a weapon?" I bark back sarcastically. "I hope you have something I can use to defend myself." I fold my arms over my chest.

"I can protect you perfectly fine, if that's what you're worried about," Dimitri smirks, the sight making the junction between my legs tingle with excitement at him taking care of me. "Look in the glove compartment, see if there is something to your liking."

With eyes wide as saucers, I do as I'm told and open the damn thing.

Two guns shine brightly back at me, but I'm a clumsy mess and my hands are clammy because of the situation. In the corner, I see a hunting knife in its sheath. I can definitely use a knife to stab someone if needed. Or point it at an attacker and run screaming.

"We're here," Dimitri states and kills the engine. "Follow my lead and you'll be fine. Stop shaking." He orders, taking in my frame and pale face.

He parked the car in a neighborhood much like my own. Apartment buildings on both sides of the road. Descending the vehicle, he motions to follow him, and I saunter behind him like Bambi behind his mother, knowing they will shoot her.

Stopping at a terrace to a ground-floor condo, he yanks open the garden door when a brute shows up out of nowhere.

Dimitri's fist lands on the side of his face and a fast succession of blows makes the dude stumble and land on the floor.

Is this the time to run?

~

Notice the titles of the chapters? They are all Céline Dion songs.