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Dom is already clambering out the door when I put my hand on his arm and stop him. “Wait. He’s right there.”
I point in front of us, into the old-fashioned diner. Sitting at a booth, right by the window, is the unmistakable shape of Kirill. His father sits opposite, and next to him is the massive behemoth who is his security guard.
“Shit,” Tino says as he leans forward, propping his arms on the backrests of both front seats. “Well at least we know he’s not dead. Should we go in?”
“Let’s get the lay of the land,” Dom says. “I don’t think we’d be welcome. It might make things worse for him.”
He reaches across me and opens the glove compartment. He takes out something dark, and I gasp. He’s holding a gun, and he lifts his shirt and pushes the muzzle into the waistband of his jeans.
“Dom?”
“What? Might need it, Duchess. Remember, you’re staying here, no matter what goes down.”
I nod numbly. I’m completely terrified by the gun and the imposing size of the men in the diner. What if there’s a shootout? The thought of blood spattering against the glass takes me back to the moment I’d stabbed that pen into Paxton’s neck. I draw a sharp breath and squeeze my eyes shut, willing the moment to retreat. My heart pounds, and I clench my fists and work to control my breathing, using some of the yoga skills I’ve learned. Thankfully, it does, and I’m excused from a full-blown panic attack, or worse—at least this time.
I open my eyes and focus on Kirill. I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed us in return, but I guess he’s occupied.
I watch them and can see how in a few years, Kirill will be like his father. He’s already big, but he still has that leanness of youth to his frame. Will he be as intimidatingly muscular as his father by the time he’s in his mid-thirties? I can see that he would.
“Is he … laughing?” Tino points to Kirill’s father.
I squint. It’s hard to see clearly into the darkened interior of the diner. It does look as if he’s laughing, though.
“I think he is.”
“Things can’t be going that badly, then,” Tino notes.
“Shall we wait awhile?” Dom drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe for now, we should just watch from the car and see what happens.”
Tino nods. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
I agree with them. Either of them marching in there is going to make this situation much more dangerous for all involved, especially now Dom has a weapon.
Things don’t look critical. Kirill takes a sip of his drink and nods, and his father laughs again. To anyone who didn’t know them, they might look like a close father and son right now. The only thing indicating something strange is the presence of the huge goon at Kirill’s father’s side.
Dom scoots down in his seat and reaches for the ball cap resting on the console between the two front seats. He puts it on and pulls it down low over his face.
I wriggle down in my seat too, so if either Kirill or his father do glance out the window, I won’t be easy to spot.
“Wake me up if anything happens,” Tino says with a yawn.
He lies down on the back seat and closes his eyes. Must be nice to be able to sleep at a time like this. I roll my eyes and go back to focusing on what is happening outside the car.
I keep my gaze trained on the people in the diner.
Though things might be going well right now, all it will take is one wrong word or look for this all to blow up, and for the diner to become a bloodbath. I can already picture the news reports, how this small, unsuspecting town became the scene of a Russian gangland killing.
No one will have seen it coming.
Chapter 25
Kirill
“I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d have made quite so much money,” my father says. He’s laughing again. All jolly now he knows my actions haven’t hit him in the pocket.
“Well, they did say I had a talent,” I reply.
All I can think, like the chorus to a song stuck on repeat, is thank fuck the watches made him money.
