That sets me off. Because I found out what ruined all my carefully crafted plans for making Mikhail Sidorov squirm and rue the goddamn day he ever decided to blow up our fucking restaurant and come at us. Saint thought Isla would be better off without him, and instead of asking her what she wanted like a grown-ass man, he decided to send her away.
He had Rocco take her from the safe house to the airport, and that’s when Sidorov’s goons attacked, taking Isla and our men hostage. The situation had gone from us having the upperhand and all the power to us being fucked and Saint and Priest offering me as tribute to keep the streets from running red with Andriani and Bratva blood.
“No.” I shake my head, pent-up fury coiled inside me, waiting to be released. “This is Saint’s fault. He’s the one who sent Isla to the airport in the middle of a war with the Bratva. She was in the safe house when I left. Everything was fine.”
Priest inclines his head. “He’s admittedly an idiot.”
Saint’s not here to listen to us dragging him. He’s enjoying his reunion with his woman—the one he was too much of a jackass to realize he was in love with until it was almost too late—while I’m being hung out to dry.
“Exactly. So why should I be the one to pay the price for his losing Isla to the Bratva?”
“You know why. When you took Pakhan’s sister, all bets were off. He was after blood, and he wasn’t going to stop until he had it. I made the decision that was in the best interest of the family. And you, believe it or not.Cazzo, that was a ballsy, stupid fucking move, kidnapping Ekaterina Sidorova.”
Priest is forgetting I had a good reason for what I did.
I flex my fingers impotently at my sides, longing for a fight. “He blew up our fucking restaurant. You were on your honeymoon. What was I supposed to do? Sit around knitting withZiaMaria and hope Sidorov would allow us to keep our territory out of the goodness of his heart?”
Priest sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Good news. I’m only ever getting married once, so there’s not going to be another honeymoon.”
“Technically, you got married twice,” I point out, because he and his wife Luna had an arranged marriage that turned into love, and then they had a second wedding before their honeymoon.
He gives me an annoyed look. “Do you really want to fuck with me right now?”
Yes, I do. But also, no, I don’t. Priest is vicious as hell when he’s riled. I may be hotheaded, but I’m not stupid. I know when to play with fire and when to let it burn.
“Not at all.”
“Then look over the contract. I need you to acquaint yourself with it, inside and out. Sidorov has…specifications we had to agree to.”
My eyes narrow on him.
Two days have passed since I left Ekaterina Sidorova cuffed in a chair deep in Bratva territory, a strip of duct tape over that fuckable mouth.
Two days since my brother signed my fucking life away to the king of the Bratva.
Two days of eerie quiet and silence in the streets while the war that’s been waging between the Andriani and Revello families and the Russians cools.
Two days, and now he’s fucking bringing up specifications?
“What the fuck does that mean?” I growl.
Priest shrugs. “Read the contract. You’ll see.”
“Can’t we have Lazaro read it and then give me the rundown?”
Lazaro is the head of the law firm that represents us. He’s shady as fuck and damn good at his job, which is why we have him on permanent retainer.
Priest slides the contract toward me again. “He’s already read it. Your turn.”
I push it away. “Then he can give me a summary.”
His jaw tightens as he shoves it back. “You need to read it yourself. And so help me, if you shove those pages my way again, I’ll chop off your fucking hand. See how much use you are to your new wife without it.”
I glare at the wordwifeand the threat, but I don’t say shit. “What the fuck are we paying Lazaro for?”
“Many other talents, as you know.”
He’s referring to all the legal binds Lazaro has gotten us out of over the years. The man’s a genius. Thank fuck he’s a corruptible one.
