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Yuliya, Jericho’s sister and second in command, threw her head back and laughed. “Ah, good girl.”
“Shut up, Yuliya.” Jericho punched her in the shoulder.
“What?” Yuliya rubbed her shoulder, feigning pain. “If she’s anything like you told me, she won’t stay out of the fight. You were dumb to think that she would. It’ll be like blood in the water for her.”
“She’s not ready.” Jericho sounded angry, but I could hear the hint of pain beneath it.
“She is.” I countered, but quickly changed the subject. “She didn’t take the Caledonia jet, and she didn’t hop on a commercial flight.”
“She probably accessed her inheritance,” Jericho said, smiling.
“Inheritance?” I pried.
“That’s right, Irish,” Jericho said, his tone challenging again. “Her net worth is higher than yours. It will double when I die.”
“Does that intimidate you?” Yuliya said with a strange glint in her eye.
I went to sit by Eoghan, a friendly face. But he was busy hiding a grin behind his hand.
“I’ll make you both pay for this when we have kids,” I said, grumbling, and crossing my arms in front of me.
“One thing at a time, Limey,” Jericho said, smirking. “She hasn’t even accepted your proposal.”
“She will.”
“She probably chartered something.” Yuliya supplied before asking Jericho. “You taught her to fly?”
“I did. Took three days,” Jericho smiled, pride beaming on his face. “She’s a clever girl.”
“We’ll have to look into any private planes coming in,” Eoghan said, “And have an armored car waiting for her in the airport.”
“Thank you,” I told my cousin, genuinely grateful.
He nodded at me with understanding. He had a wife he was worried about constantly, so he knew what I was going through.
Anton Vasiliev had to die. He had to die before she got here, her feet touching American soil. She was the object of Vasiliev’s obsession, his need for vengeance. It was his peons that had caused Jericho to come out of hiding, to wage a war here in New York. She was Helen of Troy, the reason this war was waged. She needed to be protected.
“So, how do we lure him out?” I asked the room, my voice rising higher than the volume of their chatter. “With her flying here… He needs to die. She can’t be…” I tugged on my hair again.
“Calm down, lover boy,” Jericho said. “Your whining is hurting my head. I’m trying to think.”
I wanted to punch him in the throat. Callum always said that this man was annoying. Lea said that she got a headache the moment he walked into a room. I finally understood that.
“Double our efforts,” Yuliya said. “I’ll make a call to some of the guys from First Group. See if they’d like to join the cause.”
“First Group?” I asked. “You mean American Special Forces?”
“Retired ones,” she said with a nod.
“More blood.” Eoghan smiled with glee. He was enjoying the destruction.
Even Jericho and Yuliya seemed to glow with excitement at the prospect. I normally would as well. When trained killers are given rain to kill, it fills a purpose in the soul. When the thing you’ve been trained to do is finally asked of you, like a firefighter, running into a fire, it can almost seem joyful.
But all I could see was Rose. My Rose. Lying in a pool of her own blood, with Anton Vasiliev leering over her like a devil. The image terrified me.
Chapter 41
Rose
