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“Yeah, you got that right, mate.” We fell silent, listening as Christine ranted on about her dislike for all animals.
Eventually she ran out of steam, and the conversation fucking finally got back onto matters that concerned us.
“I want your assurances, Ivanov. Either you’re in, or you’re out. There are others who can replace you.”
“Others?” He raised a brow in disbelief.
“Yes. Do not overestimate Strelichevo’s importance.”
“Do not underestimate his importance. You do not want him as an enemy, Christine.”
Allan finally spoke with a heavy sigh. “Let me speak to him. As his dyadya, he may listen to me.” He turned to Christine. “Blood ties cannot be denied. I may only be his uncle, but with his father gone, my words may carry some weight.”
I fucking gasped in shock, throwing my hand over my mouth. Uncle? My dad’s butler was the uncle of some Belarusian crime lord? What the actual fucking fuck?
“Uncle?” I hissed to Z, my voice shaky.
“Shhh. Listen,” he cautioned.
Allan gestured to Petr, and they began speaking again in low, rapid-fire Russian. What the fuck was going on? Petr eventually stepped back, and they shook hands. Throughout the whole exchange, Allan had an unhappy frown on his face, worry in his eyes.
“It is done,” Petr said to Christine. She nodded, and she and Allan climbed back into the car, the engine starting a moment later. Petr moved to lean against the building, lighting up a smoke and taking a long drag before sending the smoke curling through the air. We stayed, frozen in place, until he finished smoking and disappeared inside after grinding out his cigarette stub under his boot.
“Did you stop recording?” Z pointed at my phone, which was flashing a low-battery alert at me.
“Fuck, I forgot.” I turned it off.
We made our way silently back to the bike. Before he dropped the visor on his helmet, Zayde met my eyes. “What do we do, now?”
“We get back, get West to work his magic, then we bring the bitch down.”
SEVENTEEN
Caiden had been subdued since he’d followed my mother and learned the information about Allan being related to the Strelichevos. From everything I knew, Allan had always been around for him and Weston when they were younger—much more than Arlo had, at least, since he’d always buried himself in his work. The betrayal was hitting him hard; he’d seen Allan as a trusted figure, and now that trust was shattered.
What we couldn’t work out was the connection between Allan and my mother. I kept thinking back to the box of letters and the photo of Christine as a child. What did it all mean? At the moment, we had no clue. There was clearly some connection between them, but Petr had specifically mentioned that Christine wasn’t related to the Strelichevos.
Still, we were finally building up a dossier of information that we could present to Arlo, once we’d filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle. Well, Weston was. Everything was online, stored securely under layers of encryption. Although I had to take West’s word for that, since all that computer stuff went way over my head.
My last thought before I went to sleep, was that I had to get Caiden out of his own head. I’d watched him brooding ever since he’d come back from following Christine, the storm clouds gathering in his eyes, the way he flexed his jaw, tension radiating from him. This whole thing with Allan was fucking with his head. I had to distract him.
Phone in hand, I went in search of him the next morning. Rubbing sleep out of my eyes, I padded down the stairs in a cami and shorts, my hair an attractive bird’s nest of tangles. Mornings were not my favourite time of day. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed the door to the basement gym was ajar, and immediately knew where he’d be.
They were all there.
It was too much to deal with this early in the morning. Bodies glistening with sweat, muscles for days as the four of them punched, pounded, lifted, grunting, the testosterone filling the room and making it hard to breathe. I enjoyed the sight, drinking it in, before I backed quietly away.
I took a quick picture before I left, though. The view was too good not to.
I made myself busy cracking eggs and preparing omelettes, ready for when they’d finished their workout. Eventually they entered the kitchen, one by one, while I was on my second coffee of the day, but still feeling half-asleep.
Cassius’ mouth broke into a huge grin when he saw what I was doing, and he sidled up to me. “How did you know I was in the mood for omelettes?”
I laughed. “When are you not in the mood for omelettes? Or some kind of food?”
He winked, grabbing one of the plates from the pile I’d placed on the island and scooping some out of the pan.
“Cass.” I glanced over at the others, who were discussing something to do with their workout, by the sound of it. Caiden’s face was still brooding, the light gone from his eyes. “Can you do me a favour?”
