If he wants redemption, if he wants his bonded omega and the rest of his pack, that asshole is going to have to work for it, and I know exactly how I’m going to make sure he does.
CHAPTER 23
LEON
FRIDAY I’M IN LOVE - THE CURE
Igrin as I watch our little bird storm out of the club, fucking giddy as a school girl as I swagger my ass toward Dimitri.
I watched that entire thing play out, right from when Row spotted Dimitri until now, and while I don’t know why my sweet and spicy omega clocked our alpha in the face, I can’t say it didn’t give me a hard-on when she did it.
There is so much more going on in our pack than meets the eye, so many more intricacies and delicacies than this relatively ornery puzzle should have, and I think it’s time I start trying to put the pieces together so we can allput our pieces together.
“If I didn’t want to suck your dick so bad, I’d give you all the shit for letting two omegas crack you in the face in the same day,” I chuckle as I slide onto the stool next to Dimitri, reaching for a stack of napkins on the other side of the bar. “But I do, so I won’t. I will, however, suggest you get a handle on both of them before we’re all living together.”
He turns to me with a frown, one that morphs into a wince as I press the wad of black paper to his nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Most people don’t, but I know for a fact that you actually do.”
“Do you, now?”
I nod as that piercing blue eye scans my face. “Those omegas, they’re our scent matches.” Dimitri opens his mouth to probably argue, but I shove the bloody napkins in it to stop him. “I matched with Row immediately, instantly, the exact fucking moment I saw her. You, my tormented soul bond, matched and mated Mikhail a long time ago, am I right?”
He nods as I pull the napkins from between his lips.
I grin and ask the bartender for a glass of ice before I continue sharing what I’ve assumed up until this point. “You’re bonded, but you haven’t been together for some time, and today was the first time you crossed paths in what I’d wager to bet is years.” Another nod. “But that’s not why you left the cushy confines of your Bratva and King Daddy.”
“You’ve been following me?”
“Of course, sweetheart. You have a great ass.”
Dimitri rolls his eyes. “Why?”
“King Daddy,” I say with a shrug as I reach over the bar again and grab a rag then dump the ice in the center. “I’ve worked for Boris before and when you took off, he called me.”
Amongst several others, his own men included, but I’m sure this male knows that already.
“A bounty hunter. Cute,” he grunts as I press the makeshift ice pack to his face. “Pulled out all the stops.”
I smile. “Rightfully so. You’re a slick one, Dimitri Volkov. I had no trouble because I’m that fucking good, but I can see why no one else managed to get their hands on you.”
Not for lack of trying.
I found him first but since he’s been staying put in one place for so long, there have been a few who have gotten close. That warehouse massacre, for instance. There hasn’t been anyconfirmation of what really happened, but when I looked into it, I recognized a few signs I doubt anyone else did.
Like the crew that was wiped out happened to be a branch of the Italian crime family working out of Chicago. One I’ve worked for and against in the past, so I know their MO pretty well.
A couple hours away or not, Dimitri had the Moretti’s on his tail and if they hadn’t met the fate they did, I would have had to handle them the way I’ve handled everyone getting too close to us. Not that I mind, it keeps things spicy, picking off hitmen and greedy fuckers with their sights set on my alpha. It’s kept me entertained while Styx is working, and frankly, it’s been beneficial to the Adders and their establishment because I’ve stopped a lot of bullshit from bleeding into Knotted Obsessions. Literally and figuratively.
Which reminds me… “Do you know where I can get piano wire?”
“I can find out,” Dimitri says with an arched brow. “I take it you aren’t asking because you repair them on the side.”
I shake my head and adjust the ice. “Never got into it. Played when I was a kid, one of the foster homes I lived in had a baby grand, but I couldn’t sit still long enough to turn it into much of a hobby. Not the playing part, anyway.”
“Or the repair part?”
“I was much better at dismantling them and repurposing the pieces.”
