Page 34 of Jetmir

Anya glared at him and smacked his hand that was still on her shoulder. Here we go.

“Don’t you talk about my papa like that!” It was my turn to be smug, because Jetmir fucking Volkov just made a mistake.

“I’m sorry, angel, but he’s the one with the gun.”

Liana Volkov stepped next to me and looked up, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Raphael, this isn’t the way I envisioned the night unfolding.”

“He,” I said, pointing my gun in Jetmir’s direction, “isn’t supposed to be here. Truce is between us. You and me. Not this fuck⁠—”

“My son represents the Tijuana and Volkov organizations. In fact, he’s the head of both since he took the reins years ago, so forgive me when I correct you… This truce is between you and him.”

Anya let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose while my wife pried the gun from my hands.

I stared at her, struck anew by the beauty I saw when I first fell in love with her. I just wanted to take her home and love her all night long, get lost between her long legs. If the world was fair, Sailor would have gotten a better man, but she got me and every day I work hard to deserve her.

Anya was so much like her mother, and when she was born, I swore she would have the best life had to offer. A better man than her papa. A better life outside this criminal world. A normalcy that had not been afforded to us.

And then this fucker Jetmir showed up, fucking up all my plans for her future.

“Please forgive my husband’s manners,” Sailor said gently, flashing a smile to Liana, then to her psychopath son. “He’s… overprotective.”

Liana nodded wordlessly, but Jetmir’s expression changed to one of complete politeness and respect. “Of course, Mrs. Santos. I would expect nothing less from Anya’s father.”

The bastard smiled at my wife with straight white teeth that I would knock right out of his mouth. Soon.

“Oh, there’s no need for formalities. Sailor is just fine,” she replied gently, although her smile was tight and unnatural. “It’s about time we crossed paths.”

Jetmir raised a brow in surprise and I did the same while I shot a What the fuck? look to my wife.

“I agree.” The fucker sent me a smug smile before he continued. “It’s nice to formally meet you… Sailor.”

“This is all wrong,” I grumbled, hoping she would look at me and agree. She ignored me, but to my surprise, Anya didn’t.

“You know what, Papa, I agree. Call each other whatever you want. Shoot arrows, bullets… I don’t care.” She stepped away from Jetmir and from all of us. “It’s been a long-ass day. Happy truce or whatever. I’m going home.”

Anya kissed her mama’s cheek, then mine and left our little war circle, muttering something unintelligible to herself.

“It’s scary when she starts talking in Spanish.”

It was Jetmir who spoke, staring after my daughter with longing I was way too familiar with. Still, I wanted to gauge his eyes out of his skull. He fucked up majorly and it was unforgivable.

“You know nothing about Anya,” I growled, glaring at him, despite the fact I knew he was right. Anya was the epitome of calm and kind until she lost her temper. Then she switched from English to Spanish and spewed fire. “Unless you’re a stalker, boy?”

“Depends what you consider stalking,” Jetmir drawled, not looking away from the door Anya disappeared through.

“You fucking⁠—”

Sailor tugged on my arm and stared up at me with a warning in her blue eyes that our daughter inherited.

Stop, she mouthed, then placed the gun back in my hand. The next words she spoke aloud: “Put the gun away, and then let’s continue this conversation in a civil manner.”

When I didn’t move, she pinched my side. Hard.

I sighed, but holstered my weapon.

“As you wish, my reina.” I swear to fuck, the women in my life would be the death of me.

She rewarded me with a smile, then turned to the Volkovs. “Please forgive my husband. He’s a touch overprotective.”