That requires intelligence, or at the very least a little forethought, and considering how that entire thing played out, it seems like that group was lacking both.
In my opinion, that eliminates bounty hunters, assassins, and contract killers. They were too stupid to be any of those, which is something I knew before but was drilled home after I met Leon. They definitely weren’t Bratva, either, though. Not because of the collective IQ of twelve those men shared, that wouldn’t exactly rule out a connection to a criminal syndicate, but after reading the articles online and hearing firsthand how things were set up, they weren’t organized or refined enough to be from a crime family with a reputation like any of the ones I’ve heard of.
That brings me right back to the same questions I’ve been asking myself since the three beautiful men in front of me started arguing.
Who was that group, who were they working for, and how did they find our omegas so quickly?
“Knock it off!” Leon barks as he inserts himself between Dimitri and Niko before shoving them apart. “If you’re going to argue with me, you can’t do it in Russian! It makes my dick hard and it is very difficult to pick out what little I know in your native tongue with all the blood rushing to my crotch!”
I roll my eyes and smirk as Dimitri shoves him back.
“That’s not my fucking problem, Leonidas!”
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps as he narrows his eyes. “Not when you’re angry. While you’re fucking me, or while I’m fucking you, or when there is mass fucking, fine, but not when you’re pissed off.”
“Really?” Niko huffs as he scrubs a hand over his face. “You can’t stop thinking about that long enough to try to seriously figure out who the fuck those assholes were that tried to kill Liv and D?”
That’s adorable.
It doesn’t matter what is happening, who is around, or literally anything else one could think of, Leon is always thinking about sex and can easily relate everything back to it in some way. Granted, Niko has had the least exposure to Leon with his clothes on, him and the big guy, so they’re still learning how his libido runs the show most of the time.
And I think the bastards my staff are still trying to clean up off the back parking lot of KO were connected to the guys from the warehouse.
I don’t really know for sure why I feel that way.
Probably because that attack seemed as uncoordinated, unplanned, and unprofessional as the other, and it feels like there is a bigger piece missing from both puzzles that my gut says will connect them.
They were even dressed similarly from what Liv said.
I look down as she shifts around in my lap, watching as she rubs her cheek against my thigh while I continue running my fingers through her hair.
That’s part of why I’m letting The Three Stooges entertain me instead of sharing my thoughts and arguing with them.
Any other day I’d jump in and go a round or two just for the hell of it. Arguing is something I was born to do, literally since god blessed me with the crabbiest, most bullheaded big brother to ever live. I came out of the womb arguing with Ran and it’s become a favorite pastime of mine.
Not today, though.
It’s only been a couple days since Dimitri had hiscome to Jesusmoment and the four of them cleared the air, so to speak, but our girl has been extremely clingy toward all five of us from the time Rune and I walked in on their afterglow until right now.
She hasn’t wanted to be alone, Liv is always touching at least one of us, and she’s been scenting the shit out ofallof us whenever she’s in range. She’s easily pilfered most of mine and Leon’s clothes from my dirty laundry, and I know she’s been stealing Dimitri’s shit from his truck. Liv doesn’t think we’ve noticed but we have, and I know it’s because she’s trying to add them to her nest down in the RV without making it into some kind of production.
It’s cute that our girl doesn’t really know how to be an omega while she’s fully turning into one.
Doesn’t mean it’s been an easy thing for her to embrace, though.
She’s been moody, which for anyone else would probably translate to irritable or cranky but since our girl already leans that way most of the time, moody for Liv means her emotions are all over the place. One minute she’s happy and excited about everything from the farmhouse blueprints I’ve been showing them to the new shipment of shot glasses we’re getting at theclub, and the next she’s crying over some commercial on TV trying to get donations for the ASPCA becausethat could have been our dogs and we need to help all of them.
Clingy, moody, nesting. Liv has been fatigued, and she’s running pretty hot and cold, walking around in nothing but her underwear, standing in front of the box fan in my bedroom window for a while before she’s climbing into our clothes while we’re still wearing them because she’s suddenly freezing. Or so she says. I think it’s more of the clingy stuff but I don’t dare say that to her, not when Liv is a bit of a ticking time bomb of emotions.
If I didn’t know she’s been taking heat suppressants since she left the shelter, I’d think Liv was going into heat, but she has been, so she’s not.
I’m not complaining.
As a matter of fact, roughly fifty hours of this has been pure bliss for me. I’ll happily watch whatever commercials she wants and sweat through every stitch of fabric in this place if it means Liv is demanding we’re all together all of the time now. Especially since I’m the one who gets to sit like this with our girl while three of our mates argue, and the fourth is trying to pace the balcony right off the side of the barn.
“I wish he’d come inside.”
I smile at my girl and keep playing with her hair. “He will when he’s ready.”
