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ADRIK
Emery is still asleep when I wake up.
I slide out of bed and pull the comforter over her naked shoulder. Then I drag on some clothes and head into the kitchen.
I expect to be alone, but Toma is sitting at the island in his usual navy blue pants and gray shirt. Buttoned all the way to the neck even in the middle of the woods.
“Good morning, boss,” he says, waving with his spoon. “I hope you don’t mind, I got myself breakfast.”
I eye his food and wince. “If eating plain oatmeal is what it takes to live a long, healthy life, I’ll die young.” I pour myself a cup of black coffee and take a seat.
Toma laughs. “Given the nature of our line of work, I’d say cholesterol is not high on your list of concerns.”
“No,” I agree, “probably not.”
Toma continues eating his foul-looking oatmeal. “Sasha seems to be doing well this morning.”
“How does he look?”
“Currently? Like shit. But the bruises will fade in the next few days. He’s lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“I doubt Sasha feels lucky.”
“Unlikely,” Toma agrees. “But he’d feel luckier if he knew how few people Yasha has fought and left alive.”
My brother has always had a tendency to take things a few steps too far in a fight. Control is about knowing your limits—something Yasha has never been great at. The reservoir of rage in him runs too deep.
“You’d know better than anyone. Yasha always called you to try and fix his messes. But you can’t do much for a corpse.”
“Not yet, anyway. But maybe one day.”
I think briefly about all the people I’ve put in the ground. “I say we let the dead lie.”
Toma nods. “Probably for the best.”
"How long do you plan to stay?"
"Through the day, at least," he says. "I want to watch for signs of internal bleeding. Just a precaution, but an important one."
"Stay as long as you need." I finish my coffee, set the cup down in the sink, and grab the satellite phone off the counter on my way out of the kitchen.
It’s barely dawn, but Stefan answers after the first ring.
“Calling for a status report?” he asks. Usually, Stefan is a wreck in the early morning. Based on how awake he sounds, I’m guessing he hasn’t been to sleep yet.
“I’m sure as hell not calling at dawn to chit-chat.”
“Pity,” Stefan huffs in mock disappointment. “Okay, well, more bad news: I haven’t found Yasha.”
I grit my teeth. “Where have you looked?”
“All the usual places,” he says. “I’ve got eyes posted everywhere, but no sign of him yet. There was a shootout, though. Down at Symphonie. On a busy Friday night, no less.”
“You think it was him?”
“Yasha wasn’t there,” he says quickly. “But I’m guessing the men pulling the triggers were working for him.”
“How do you know?”
“I guess I don’t, but I have a feeling,” Stefan says. “They showed up at two of the locations we were staking out and fired first. If they aren’t working with Yasha, then at the very least, they aren’t trying to make friends.”
“Hm. Guess I’ll have to trust your instincts.” I stroke my chin, deep in thought.
“Wow, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Stefan whistles. “Where’s Emery? I’d like to thank her personally.”
“Fuck off.”
He cackles to himself. “Is this little cabin trip the rain check on your honeymoon?”
“It’s not a ‘trip.’ We’re here to lay low so I can keep her safe.”
“And nothing keeps a woman safe like your dick in her—”
“Enough,” I bark. “Some of us are actually trying to get shit done. Are you ready to work or do I need to replace you?”
“Replace me? With who?” Stefan snorts. “You don’t have a lot of good prospects in these ranks.”
“Speaking of the ranks…”
“Uh-oh,” he says at once, all the humor stripped from his voice. “Where are you going with this?”
“Who don’t you trust?
“Why? Do you think there’s a rat?”
It's his job to monitor the men. If there is a rat, I know he'll take it hard. He jokes, but he doesn't want to disappoint me. He may act the fool, but Stefan is as prideful as I am at the end of the day. He takes his role seriously.
“I’ve been considering it,” I tell him. “Ever since the car broke down.”
"I mean, the car is older than you. Not impossible that it just kicked the can.”
“Yes,” I growl, “it is impossible. There’s no such thing as coincidences, Stefan. You know that as well as I do.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I know. Well, I got it towed back to the compound like you asked."
"Has anyone looked it over yet?" I ask.
"Rurik took a look at it."
“Rurik?” I repeat, hackles rising immediately.
“He seemed to think the radiator hose was leaking from normal wear and tear. He didn’t rule out anything, but he didn't seem worried."
"Get it looked at by someone who knows what the fuck they're talking about," I snap, shaking my head. "I'm not going to let a twenty-year-old kid with a Hot Wheels fetish be the final word on this."
"Done. Anything else?"
"I want to smoke out the rat if we have one."
"How do you suggest we do that?" Stefan asks. "I'm not complaining, but my hands are kinda full over here. Searching for Yasha is stretching us thin."
"Sounds like complaining to me. Maybe you really do want me to replace you."
"Keep bringing that up, and I'll start to think you don't like me anymore," Stefan jokes.
I smile. "I never liked you to begin with."
"Does that mean you hired me for my superior intellect?"
"If you had superior intellect, you'd be able to figure out how to track down a traitor."
Stefan doesn't say anything for a few seconds. I can practically hear his gears smoking as he tries to quickly come up with a plan.
I start to give him the answers to my prompt: "Feed the likely suspects different infor—"
But he cuts me off. “I’ve got it! I’ll feed the likely suspects different information,” he says triumphantly. "Then I’ll find out what gets leaked out."
I roll my eyes. "Christ, you're a dumbass."
"A dumbass who is going to catch the rat."
"I'll believe it when I see it," I say. "Make it happen. And keep me updated."
I hang up and drop down on the sofa. Stefan is everything I accused him of being and more—but I trust him. He’s earned that.
Still, I'm feeling the itch to act. I was not made to sit idly by while other men do the dirty work.
"You're up early."
I look up and see Emery standing in the hallway. She's in a tiny pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. Her hair is loose, hanging around her shoulders in messy tangles.
A flashback of gripping her hair, bending her back as I shove inside of her, clouds my vision. My cock springs to life.
She doesn’t seem to notice. "Couldn't sleep?" she asks, walking over to me.
"I slept enough."
She sits down next to me, her leg pressed against my thigh. "I'm not sure there is such a thing after last night. I'm sore."
I smirk. "Did I wear you out?"
"Don't look so smug.”
