That’s not right. Is the little kiska this good of an actress? Or have I misjudged things?
“Tell me you’re joking. Do you really think that the only reason I slept with you just now is to get you to agree to this?”
I meet the question with silence.
She shakes her head at me, stifling a furious sob. Her green eyes have turned the color of moss. They’re masked by a veil of tears that are only now beginning to fall.
She bites down against them, and turns her back on me. Then she starts storming up towards the manor.
And even though I want to go after her… I stay rooted in fucking place.
30
Isaak
“You okay?”
I send Lachlan a piercing glare. “Is there a reason you’re asking?”
“I’m just concerned, Isaak,” he continues, totally unaffected. “You’re about to walk, unarmed, into a meeting with your vengeful cousin who definitely wants you dead. You just seem a little… distracted, given the circumstances.”
It’s a fair question, but I resent it anyway.
“When I have I ever been distracted from a fucking job?” I snap. “When have I ever botched a mission?”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Lachlan,” Bogdan says, entering the office dressed in a bulletproof vest. “If he says he’s fine, he’s fine.”
I turn my back on both of them and slip on my own vest. Two guns and a knife rest on the desk, but I ignore all of them.
“You can conceal a knife easily enough,” Bogdan says, gesturing to the desk.
“No. I will not break my word.”
“That’s awfully noble,” Bogdan says with a resigned sigh. “But is it smart?”
I glare at him, knowing that both men are studying my every move carefully. “I know what I’m doing. Can the two of you stop acting as though this is my first day on the job?”
Neither of them answers.
I nod, satisfied. “Good. Now, how big is the contingent?”
“Including the two of us, that’s twelve men in total.”
“Cut five of them. I want no more than seven.”
“But—”
“No fucking buts. That is an order,” I snarl at Lachlan. “Go and kick five men out of the support vehicle. Now. I don’t give a shit who you pick.”
Lachlan gives me a curt nod and heads out the door.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I say to Bogdan when we’re alone in my office.
“Sobrat, you need to get her out of your head first.”
I turn away from him and fiddle with the straps on my vest. “She’s not in my head.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Bogdan asks. “I’m your brother. I know you better than anyone else out there. And I also know that you were just in the garden with her.”
I give him a startled glance.
He grins like a wolf in the hen’s house. “Don’t worry—I went back inside when you started ripping each other’s clothes off.”
“Blyat’.”
Bogdan smiles. “Lucky bastard.”
I roll my eyes. “I needed a… distraction.”
“What you needed was a bedroom, brother dearest. But yeah, a distraction makes sense. Seems like she needed the same thing.”
His words remind me about the fight that had driven me up here earlier than expected. It’s still playing over and over again in my head.
“Bogdan, this thing about Otets…”
“Mama wouldn’t lie about something as big as this.”
I grimace. “I believe her. That’s the fucking problem.”
“It sucks, okay?” Bogdan says. “It fucking sucks. He was a damn hypocrite and he lied to us our entire lives. But it doesn’t really change anything.”
“No,” I agree. “It does not.”
“Maxim cannot be the leader of the Vorobev Bratva. You’ve been at the helm since Otets started getting sick. You were the one who took us to new heights. If Maxim gets his hands on the reins, he’ll run this Bratva to the ground just like his father did. And we can’t let that happen.”
We meet each other’s eyes, and I nod in agreement.
“You’ve got more don in you than you realize,” I tell Bogdan.
He snorts. “Keep the title. I’d rather do the fun shit and leave the responsibility to you.”
“Wise choice.”
“Although, if being don means getting a girl like Camila, I wouldn’t mind taking a stab at it.”
I shoot him a bemused glare. “Get out and get ready. I’ll be down in a second.”
Grinning, he leaves me to my empty office. I put my hands on my desk and lean in for a moment to catch my breath. I have no idea how this meeting with Maxim is going to go, but I do know that he has an ulterior motive.
There’s no way the fucker is just looking to have a conversation with me. Not when I have his fiancé.
I need to be ready for anything.
Before I head downstairs, I fit myself with a thin wire and a microphone. The wire’s thin and the microphone is small. Once my shirt is buttoned over the vest, neither are at all visible.
I may not be carrying weapons, but I’m not going in completely naked. Only a fucking idiot walks into the lion’s den without an insurance policy.
Then it’s time to move. I’m on my way downstairs when I notice my mother at the threshold of a doorway. She’s watching the men get ready through the window with a nervous expression.
“Isaak…”
“I don’t have time to talk right now, Mama,” I say coldly. “Duty calls.”
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
I breathe through my latent anger. “He had a strong hold on you,” I concede, giving her a way out. “I can’t be surprised that it extended past his death.”
She flinches back at the statement, but she doesn’t say a word. Her face is as unreadable as ever.
“I’ll see you later.”
Once I’m outside, the men file into the support vehicle. I’ll be driving alone in my black Titan Wrangler.
“Remember,” I tell them before we disembark, “I want you to give me a mile’s berth. If I need backup, I’ll call for it.”
“We’ll listen for the gunshot,” snarks Bogdan.
He’s convinced that Maxim’s going to sneak in a weapon. It’s certainly not out of the question for my snake of a cousin. I’m just hoping he has some sense of honor remaining.
But then again, I don’t know how far he’s fallen. It doesn’t matter either way. I can take Maxim, with or without a weapon of my own. It makes no difference to me.
It’s a fifty-minute drive to the empty warehouse where we’d agreed to meet. I pass the support vehicle as they set up camp exactly a mile outside the warehouse, per my orders.
I drive the Wrangler through the open gate of the compound and park just outside the empty. There’s another car parked on the opposite side of the lot: a shiny red Ferrari SF90 Spider with all the fixings. Maxim has never been a fan of subtlety.
Rolling my eyes, I climb out and head inside. There doesn’t seem to be a soul around.
I climb the darkened stairway to the second floor. Downstairs was dark and dank, but up here, light pours through the square factory windows that line the west-facing walls. The panes have rusted and some of the windows are broken. Nothing seems out of place.
“Isaak,” comes a voice.