The Russian’s hand was flexing, his shoulder moving against the back of her head. He had got hold of something.
“No,” said John. “But rape isn’t very nice, is it? I’m not keen, personally. It really is the height of those bad manners you mentioned earlier.”
“Rape?” The Russian chuckled. “It wouldn’t be rape. I’m sure she’d be happy to do it for you. If you asked her to. Go on. Ask her. Ask her if she’ll let me fuck her to get you what you want.”
John’s voice was steel. “Let her go.”
Mimi tried to kick the Russian’s shin, wishing now that she had worn stilettos, but all that achieved was a tightening of his arm around her throat, almost choking her.
His other arm flew forward. In his hand he held a gun.
“Now are you going to get out of here? You can have your ore. It’s in the package behind the trouser press. Take it. But I’m having this girl tonight. That’s the deal. That’s supply and demand.”
“John!” Mimi had to fight to get the word out, her vocal cords crushed by the weight of the Russian’s arm.
John had picked up the package and was heading for the door, but refused to meet her eyes.
“I was stupid, but you aren’t going to leave me with him, are you? Please!”
“You put yourself in this position.”
“John!”
He turned to face the Russian, who still held the gun pointed at his head.
“When you finish with her, call me. I’ll pick her up.”
“Sure.”
John’s hand closed around the door handle. The Russian transferred his gun to the other hand and began to move a palm inside Mimi’s jacket, seeking her cleavage. Mimi heard the door close and crumpled in despair, too bereft to fight the Russian’s explorations of her décolletage. He nuzzled his face in her neck, teeth nipping at the soft flesh.
“You English girls love a good fuck,” he murmured. “Easy meat.”
And then Mimi staggered forward as the Russian’s full weight fell on top of her, pinning her to the floor. She screamed and tried to pull herself out from under him, catching from the corner of her eye some movement at their rear.
A hand appe
ared, a familiar signet ring on one finger.
“John.”
“Come on, get up.”
He pulled her free of the lumbering Russian body and helped her to her feet.
“What…what…?” She had lost coherence now, leaning heavily against John.
“I didn’t leave the room. Dmitri there was too busy pawing you to notice. I gave him a Poltrinjin Surprise.”
“A what?”
“Combat technique from the Forlyxx system. Too complicated to explain.”
“Is he dead?”
“I think he might be. I went in a little harder than I did with his friend. I have a temper, you know.”
He smiled apologetically, as if expecting her to scold him for his naughty murdering ways.