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“We have visitors. The guards at the front gate told me there are two of Volkov’s men asking for permission to enter.”
A muscle twitches in Mikhail’s jaw. He lifts his phone to call Viktor and Nikko. “Aria, what do you see?”
I pull up the names and profiles based on a quick facial recognition check. “Dmitri Petrov. Pavel Kuznetsov. Confirmed affiliation with Fyodor Volkov.”
Ekaterina watches us thoughtfully when the sound of heavy footsteps comes from the hallway. Viktor looms in the doorway, barring any light from coming in, Nikko close at his heels.
“Volkov’s men are at the gate. Bring them to me.” Mikhail nods to his mother. “You and Polina, leave us, please.”
“Mikhail…”
He looks up at his mother. “Yes?”
She cringes. “No blood on the carpet, son.”
The two of them leave. Mikhail curses.
“They’re nice carpets,” I say, more because I feel the need to back her up than because I know anything about the quality of carpet. He grunts in response.
Polina follows her mom and gives my hand a little squeeze on the way out, leaning in and whispering in my ear, “Tell me if either one of them are cute.”
My eyes widen in shock that she’d dare to go there, but it only makes her laugh out loud as she leaves.
“They can’t be here to attack. If they were, they wouldn’t have entered by the frontgate, Mikhail.”
“Mm. I make it a rule not to assume until I have all the data. Get behind me.”
Heavy footsteps return but there’s no sound of a scuffle or bodies being dragged down the hallway.
“We come bearing gifts,” Viktor says with a sardonic smile.
“I can fetch a silver platter…” Nikko says, his eyes twinkling.
Mikhail stands in front of me, his large, muscled back rippling under the thin fabric of his tee when he places his hands on his hips. “On your knees,” he snaps, in that voice that makes a shiver go from the base of my neck down the length of my spine.“Now.”
Viktor and Nikko shove the men to their knees. I quietly peek to the left to catch a glimpse. Okay, cute is not a word I’d use to describe either of them, but I can report back to my sister-in-law that one of themishot.
Even while pushed to their knees, they’re just a few inches shorter than I am. The first is blond with ice-blue eyes that chill me, an athletic build with taut muscles under simple street clothes. The other is older and stockier, with dark hair and midnight eyes.
“Tell me why you dare defile my family home with your presence,” Mikhail snaps. Okay so maybe heisn’tmore relaxed in Russia. I’m pulling stats and info as quickly as possible. “You’ll speak in English so my wife can understand every word you say.”
Um. About that…
How sweet is he, though?
“Aria. Report, please.”
God, I love when he gets all bossy on me, and I can show off.
“Dmitri Petrov. Thirty-two. Born in Siberia. Father former KGB operative. First came on the scene in the arms trade. Oversees international arms smuggling.” I look up. “Likes eighties rock music and matcha lattes.”
Mikhail’s lips twitch. I like to throw a little personal touch in just to show that I can. I have his financial records, medical history, record of online communications and the names of every woman he’s fucked in the last three years, but I don’t want to bog my husband down with unnecessary details.
Mikhail jerks his chin at the second.
“Pavel Kuznetsov. Forty-two. Raised in Moscow where his family makes their home. Father died when he was young, forcing his hand to learn to earn money. Overseas high-end prostitution in the Red Square. D’awww. Has a penchant for owning long-haired cats.”
“Do you confirm or deny your identities?”
