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Playing matchmaker isn’t something I normally do. Hell, making friends never hit my radar except with Ellie. She kind of stumbled into me one night while out making a late run for ice cream and rum. An odd combination I didn’t think another soul liked but myself.
Turns out there were two of us. After moving to New York City I figured making a few friends would be nice. Look where that got her. But Avery and I share a horrible, unique circumstance and she looks like she could use a friend. I wrap an arm around her shoulder and rub the side of her arm.
“Take it from me; tomorrow is not a given. I think you know that. Riot seems nice and I think we could both use a little of that in our lives.”
“There’s no way he’ll see me as anything other than used.”
The sadness in her eyes kills me and I have another reason to want to see the Volkovs rotting in hell. I leave her with one parting food for thought. “How do you know unless you try?”
Out of the corner of my eye I notice a familiar leather jacket and jeans in the same shade of midnight black. The man wearing them strolls through the side kitchen door and shoots straight for the stairs Ares took a few minutes ago. I blink and the tray of food is an afterthought abandoned on the counter.
I don’t remember moving. Just the feel of the soundless carpet underfoot and then I do something I’ve never done before. My arm goes around a thick throat and tightens until I hear a gasp.
I’m not this girl. The kind who goes around randomly attacking people, but I’ve had my eyes opened tonight and I’ve learned something—move first and take the upper hand. It’s the only way to survive.
I’m swung left and then right. The room whirls and several sets of eyes are on me. Us. The man I’m choking turns a pretty shade of red and the surprise on everyone’s face is priceless. Why the hell aren’t any of them doing anything?
Hands grip my waist while another set pries my vice grip chokehold open. I’m plucked from the intruder’s back and deposited on the floor.
“I thought I recognized you last night!”
Ares is a wall between us but I push him to the side. Or try to. A bulldozer would be easier to nudge a few yards than him. No matter. “What did you do with her? Where is her body? Tell me!” Ares’ knife is in my back pocket and I surprise even myself with my quick reflexes. I point the tip at the man’s chest. “You won’t be taking me again.”
I turn my wrath on Ares. “And you, you have five seconds to tell me why Volkov’s man is standing in the middle of your man cave.” I look around and figure it’s the best way to describe the dark furniture, large screen TV, and bar. The only thing that doesn’t fit is the large conference table.
Tight lines etch the corners of Ares’ mouth before he speaks. “Nova, meet Dragon. He’s not Volkov’s; he’s mine. A Savage son.”
Didn’t see that coming. “Oh.” Shit. “I see.”
Dragon eyes the blade and flicks the end. “Word is you’re pretty wicked with that thing.”
“When I need to be.”
He looks bemused. Sitting around the same age as Ares, I pin Dragon to be hitting close to forty. Late thirties at least. Like Ares, this man has no dusting of gray, but age shows itself in different ways. For Ares, it’s in the way he carries himself. Confidence, experience, and power speak of his time on this earth.
For Dragon, it’s in the way he stands. The angle of his gaze when he considers you. You know he’s seen shit and done more. Darkness sits around him. One rivaled only by Ares’.
“Good, next time, strike first andthenask all your questionsifthe guy is still breathing.”
I stand there for a moment reassessing my actions and the information I’d just been given. He has access to my sister. I don’t know how, but I just know. “You guys like to give out a lot of fighting tips.”
I turn to Ares this time, the knife back in my pocket. “You have an inside guy?”
A black eyebrow raises. He winds an arm around me and pulls me with him to the head of the table and onto his lap. “Have for several months now. Dragon is Savage blood. You can trust him. He’s the one watching over your sister.”
Bingo. I like being right.
Having my suspicion confirmed does nothing for my nerves. Of course, that could be because I forewent all the rules of being a lady and just tackled an unarmed man.
Even though they are freshly showered, all of them look like they could use food, a stiff drink, and about two days of sleep.
Rage. Riot. Devil. I look at each of them. They’ve been through hell.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Before last night? I would have… Devil wouldn’t have been hurt.” His arm is in a sling and his bandage needs changing. Blood seeps through to stain his pullover.
He rubs a hand over his damp hair. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll live.” Pain pulls his face into a grimace but he does a good job hiding it behind the rim of a coffee mug.
“See Doc after this.”
