My cousin smirks. “We have a fuckingproblem, is what's going on.”
I search his stormy eyes, his clenched jaw, examine the marks on his skin. The fresh black eye is the most obvious one. But there are other, smaller bruises—and are thosebite marks?—on his throat.
I frown. “What happened to your eye?”
Jude smiles coldly. “That’sour problem.”
“Huh?”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of my cousin spending all her time and all hernightswith such a violent, angry motherfucker.”
My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
“Your boyfriend has a fucking temper, Yelena.”
Shit.
I stare at him. “Are you sayingAchillesdid that? What’d you do to him?”
Jude’s eyes narrow. “Wow.Lovethat family loyalty, cousin,” he growls.
I shake my head. “I just mean?—”
“You don’t think Mr. Golden Boy is capable of doing something like this unlessIdid something to warrant it?”
I mean, I don’t. But I’m not going to say that to Jude right now. He looks straight-up murderous.
“Jude, what the fuck happened?—”
“Your boyfriend decided to stick his golden fucking nose intomybusiness,” he snarls. “Which meritedmeshoving it backoutof that business.”
My brow furrows. “Wait… Who threw the first punch?”
“Jesus, Yelena,” Jude growls. “Your boyfriend is not who you think?—”
“I knowexactlywho Achilles is,” I snap. “Way better than you.”
He laughs coldly. “I highly doubt that.”
My eyes roll. “I’m sorry, areyousleeping with him? Has Jude Nikolayev, the notorious lady-killer, suddenly switched teams?—”
“No,” he spits venomously, making me jump. His jaw works as his eyes slide over my face. “But believe me, you donotknow Achilles the way you think?—”
“Is there a problem here, folks?”
I look past Jude and see a woman who looks to be in her mid-thirties dressed in a black pants suit, her hair pulled back, a holstered gun at her hip…
…and a police badge in her raised hand.
Jude turns to look at her, and instantly the charm comes out to play.
“Not at all, officer.” He flashes one of his infamously charming panty-removing grins as he turns to her.
“It’s chief, actually,” the woman says, completely immune to Jude’s charm. “I’m going to ask the question again, and I’d like Ms. De Luca to answer, not you, handsome.”
Jude grins. “Flattery will get you?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” she snaps. Her gaze goes to me. “Everything okay, Yelena?”
