Recalling a conversation between Nikolai and Asher, I say, “You offered Asher an outlet months ago, Nikolai. He doesn’t need to go against you to develop ties here.”
Nikolai remains quiet, but I know in my heart he believes me. Just like Dimitri, Asher respects Nikolai too much to disrespect him like this. He may be mourning, but his grudge isn’t with Nikolai or his family.
“You should call him.”
When Nikolai peers at me as if I’m crazy, I give him mylook who’s talkingglare.
With a grin and perhaps a touch of reluctance, Nikolai pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. Any worries that he’s annoyed at my nosey nancying fly out the window when he purposely brushes my needy pussy in the process. He could have secured his phone without his hand diving between my legs, but the day he stops teasing me will be the day he takes his final breath. He lives to rile me up.
Staring at me, he dials a known number. His widening pupils expose how he wants his obedience rewarded. He’s going to get lost in my body, get high on it as if I’m the most potent drug on the market. My body will pay the restitution for his wavering on the rules he generally toes like a tightrope.
It takes Asher a few seconds to answer, but when he does, his greeting exposes what I suspected. He isn’t Nikolai’s enemy. He is his friend.
“Still chasing the sun?”
A grin tugs at Nikolai’s lips. “It’s better than chasing a receding hairline.”
Even if Nikolai’s phone wasn’t on speaker, I’d still hear Asher’s laugh. “Fucking bastard.” He curses Nikolai in Russian. “Just like my cock, my hairline is well-stocked.”
“The magic of little blue pills.” Nikolai scans my face, ensuring I’m aware I am his Viagra of choice. “I’ve heard they do wonders. I’ll be sure to test them out if I ever get as old and as limp-dicked as you.”
Their conversation would be amusing if it didn’t have a snippet of honesty behind it. Both Nikolai and Asher’s lineage reveal the rarity of any member of their family living past the age of forty. Vladimir had such a long campaign because he was at the very top of the food chain.
The soldiers underneath him weren’t as lucky.
At a ripe age of twenty-eight, Asher is already in his prime. If this doesn’t make me immensely grateful for Nikolai’s high role in his industry, nothing will.
Their conversation steers in a new direction when Nikolai straight up asks Asher if he has any men in Hopeton. Asher’s tone doesn’t falter in the slightest when he denies the accusation in Nikolai’s tone. “I’m fighting my own war, so why would I join yours?”
“Dimitri said—”
“There’s your first error. Wasn’t it you who told me brothers don’t carry the same blood in their veins; they stain their hands with it?” Asher’s voice isn’t laced with the annoyance Nikolai’s has. His is more truthful than anything. “Who stood at your side when you claimed Emil life’s for bidding on your queen?”
Nikolai quickly switches his cell to the regular setting, but it doesn’t stop me from hearing what Asher says next: “And who will stand at my side when the men responsible for Dominque’s death pay their penalty?”
“I will always have your back,” Nikolai quotes in Russian, his accent deepening as his desire to kill grows.
He feels every inch of Asher’s pain because he experienced the same torturous emotions when my body convulsed after Vladimir kicked out the chair saving me from being hung.
I want to act surprised by the heaviness of their conversation, but I’m not. Nikolai has never hidden who he is from me. Not even his wish to rid the world of the men who bid on me has been concealed. I just hate having it thrust in my face like this. Keeping my head buried in the sand may make others see me as a coward, but I’d rather be seen as spineless than heartless.
The flaring of Nikolai’s nostrils stops when Asher replies, “As I will forever have yours, Nikolai. Change makes people nervous, but order keeps them in line. My men are in the process of learning that. Yours are already aware. They wouldn’t disrespect you like this.”
9
Justine’shopeful eyes shift to mine when the creak of a gate sounds through the eerie quietness surrounding us. She’s been on edge since our conversation early this morning, but with Maddox’s release being years in the making, she’s not letting anything dampen her joy.
Harbortown Medium Security Prison has more men on guard outside of its walls than it has inside. My conversation with Asher verified it isn’t his crew aiming for a foothold in Hopeton, but that doesn’t mean I’ll lower my guard. If it isn’t Asher, who is it? There isn’t another operative strong enough to bid on my title, much less have the gall to go against me. The Popov entity is the largest and strongest it’s ever been. Only a fool with a death wish would dare test its strength.
“Ahren. . .” I growl when the flash of a grin has Justine pushing off her feet and racing away from me.
When Roman attempts to follow her, I hold him back. Landon is already on her tail, but if he weren’t, the three snipers I have hidden in the dense forest surrounding us will take care of any unwanted visitors.
A medium-built man with dirty blond hair and a sleeve full of tats dumps a duffle bag on the ground a mere second before Justine launches herself into his arms. The grin on Maddox’s face when he twirls his baby sister in the air reveals he never thought this day would come, but it’s a weary, unsure smile that exposes he’s cautious. He knows as well as I do that the agreement he made with the Petrettis was voided the instant he stepped foot outside prison walls.
Maddox’s grin jumps onto the faces of a handful of my men. They’re not smiling at Justine’s overfriendly greeting; witnessing the entire Walsh clan’s teary response is causing their peculiar reaction.
My men have witnessed many things: pleas from teary-eyed fathers begging for the lives of their sons to be spared, wives begging to save their husbands, even whores offering favors in exchange for their favorite clients’ clemency. But this is the first time they’ve witnessed a joyous reunion. No blood has been shed, no lives claimed, only enough tears to flood a river.
