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With a cool smile, she says, “For money, dipshit.”
I twist toward her, a sharp pain exploding down my side. I choke back a groan. Goddamn stress is making my sciatica rage these days. “Why the hell do you need money?”
“And why the hell do you two sound like an old married couple already?” Nik grumbles from the driver’s seat. We’re on the way to Luka’s place for a meeting. Alek tapped into some of his tech geniuses and he’s got information. Highly critical shit, from what Nik said.
And we drop everything for highly critical shit.
“Pull over.” I smack the side of Nik’s headrest. “City Diner.”
“Of course, Miss Daisy.” Nik swings the steering wheel to the side and the tires screech to a stop next to the curb. I jump out of the truck and run inside to pick up my to-go order.
Something’s up with Skyla. I don’t know what the fuck it could be, other than the fact that she didn’t get enough sleep because we spent most of the night christening every inch of our bedroom and bathroom at the safe house.
I figured honesty would make her happy. I told her how I felt and meant every word. I thought that’s what she wanted to hear. But instead of a happy Skyla, I woke up with the Wicked Witch of the East. She’s been cold, disconnected, and if I’m being honest, a total bitch.
I hope pancakes with strawberry syrup can fix whatever the hell has her panties in a twist.
She doesn’t even look at me when I jump into the back seat with the bag. Shit, even my stomach is growling, and I hate pancakes. I drop the plastic bag onto the seat between us. Skyla just keeps staring out the window with a weird look on her face.
What the fuck? Is it a woman thing?
I rake a hand through my hair and let out a deep sigh. Nik doesn’t say a word. Glad he got my telepathic message to choke back whatever sarcastic shit that was on the tip of his tongue.
The ride to Luka’s is dead silent other than the hum of Nik’s satellite radio. I tune out the sound, trying like hell to figure out how things with Skyla took such a nosedive after last night. She definitely didn’t seem to have any issues while she was coming all over my cock and screaming for God.
Luka’s place is at the end of a private beach road. We drive through the mile-high grasses on either side of the pavement. Gravel crunches under the tires when we get to the driveway. Nik pulls the truck up close to the house and stops next to Danil’s car.
“Why are there so many cars?” I furrow my brow, not recognizing the shiny black Bugatti parked a little farther up.
“Alek Severinov is here, too.” Nik turns to look at me. “And he called in Boris.”
“Boris Vetrov? Luka got his ass here, too? I figured he was enjoying retirement way too much to let himself get pulled back into our quicksand.”
Skyla picks that second to let out a snort.
Nik flashes me a questioning look. I just shrug. Whatever is up her ass will have to wait until later.
We get out of the car. I grab the white plastic bag of food and carry it to the front door. Luka opens it and narrows his eyes at me.
“What? Like my wife can’t cook well enough for you?” He wrinkles his nose. “You hate pancakes.”
“They’re not for me.” I push past him, a weird feeling churning in my gut. Something isn’t right. I rub the back of my neck, the pain in my side amplified by the stress knot that’s taken residence at the base of my skull.
Skyla barely says a word to anyone, which shocks the hell out of me. She isn’t one to be at a loss for words. Luka’s wife, Natasha, tries to introduce herself, but she doesn’t get more than a “hello” in return. I grab Skyla by the wrist and tug her into a hallway.
“What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet and… I don’t know… moody all morning. Avoiding me when I try to talk to you.”
She gives a half shrug. “I guess I’m tired. It’s a lot, getting shot, running from kidnappers and killers, not knowing what tomorrow will bring, if there even is a tomorrow.”
“Hey, I told you not to worry about anything. I’m gonna take care of you, of all of this. You don’t have to worry about tomorrow. I promise.”
I tilt her chin upward. “Hey, I love you. I want you to be happy. I even got you breakfast—”
She jerks her face out of my grip. “You think you can make everything okay with orgasms and pancakes? News flash. You can’t. So please. Don’t even pretend to try.”
“Z, let’s go.” Nik pops his head into the hallway and nods toward Luka’s office. “The guys are waiting.”
Skyla takes the bag from me and wordlessly heads into the kitchen. I can hear Natasha’s high-pitched laugh a few seconds later. The rustling of plastic follows.
