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“You’re pissed that we keep asking, I get it, but Ales, you were shot and almost died. You’re going to get questioned a lot.”
“From Holly, and even the other women, I expect it, but you, Rome, and Makenna, I don’t. I’m fine, I’m alive, and I’m healing. I don’t need to be checked up on like I’m a fucking kid.”
“You’re right,” he responds, and I blink in surprise. “You’re not a kid, you’re Alessio Bianchi, one of the toughest sons of bitches alive.”
“Yeah,” I hear Makenna shout in the background. “This is the second time someone’s shot him and he’s still alive. So much for praying for an alternative outcome.”
I chuckle at her words. It’s one of the many things I love about my sister-in-law; she always jokes and lightens the mood—hell, half the time, I’m not even sure if she’s joking or not.
“Nikolai is back in Texas,” Dante tells me, and I grit my teeth. That motherfucker left Denver the day after I was shot.
“What’s the plan?” I ask, wondering if he’s going to start a war or if he’s going to sit back and let it lie.
“We’ve sent a message,” he tells me cryptically. “His right-hand man is missing a couple of fingers, and his bodyguard is nowhere to be seen.”
I smile. He’s gone for the people closest to him. He’s letting Nikolai know that we can get to him and Yelena whenever the fuck we want.
“He called. He’s offered a truce.”
Ah, hence the phone call today. “And what are you saying to that?”
“I want to tell the bastard, fuck no. He sent three men to try and kill you. That’s something I’m not willing to let slide.”
I hear a fuckingbutin there somewhere.
“Makenna believes we should take the truce. If some asshole did what you did to Makenna, I’d have killed them without blinking.”
“So, you’re taking the truce?” I ask, completely fucking confused as to why he’s doing this.
“Kind of. I’ve told Nikolai that as long as he stays the fuck in Texas and doesn’t come into any of our territories, then he’s safe. But the second he does, or his wife does, they’re fair game.”
“Yelena has nothing to do with this,” I remind him.
“Alessio, she has every-fucking-thing to do with this. You fucked up and cheated. You didn’t kill her, for crying out loud,” Makenna says. “She set in motion this entire thing. It happened years ago, a fucking lifetime ago. There was no need for Nikolaito send men. He married her, not you. So yes, she’s fair fucking game, and everyone thinks so.”
“You’re the bosses,” I reply, knowing that no matter what I say, they’ve made up their minds.
“They won’t come to New York or anywhere else that’s owned by a Bianchi or Gallagher. Not a fucking chance,” Makenna fumes. “They fucked up, Alessio. They went after family, and that’s something we’ll never forget. Hell fucking no.”
“Aww, you love me,” I joke.
“Shut up,” Dante growls. “Now, when the fuck are you coming home?”
I glance across the street, watching the beautiful brunette close the gallery.
“Soon,” I assure him. “I’ve got some business I need to take care of here.”
“Alright, but Alessio, you do not go looking for Nikolai or Yelena—hell, any of the Vasiliev men.”
“Is that an order?” I ask, my temper rising as I grit my teeth.
“Yes, that’s a fucking order,” he snarls. “I mean it, Ales, don’t go looking for trouble.”
I chuckle. “Trouble always finds me,” I tell him, my gaze firmly on the beautiful woman who’s making her way toward her car.
“Ain’t that the fucking truth. Stay safe, Ales, I expect your ass home by Monday.”
That gives me four days to get what I need to do, done. “Monday,” I assure him and end the call.
