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We don’t care.
“Oh God, Niko,” I murmur, “I’m coming, yes, fuck me.”
Niko erupts into an explosive groan and with a few more strokes holds himself deep inside me while we come at the same time. It’s transcendent, and I’m grateful for the few moments away from reality to the beautiful place only he can take me.
* * *
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
Charleigh
I’m still not happy about the Alekseev’s attempt on Arseny’s life. The fact that they didn’t succeed means we have to be on higher alert than ever, as if that’s possible. Their excuse is that no one is innocent in their world, and that everyone knows the risks.
War is messy, I’ve heard Vadik say more than once.
I let Evie talk me into allowing her to attend some school play that her friends are in. It’s only a couple hours long, and the guys had the security team sweep the place before it got started, and assigned them with staying there until it’s time to come home. I’m not completely comfortable with this outing. Evie knows that, the security team knows that, and the guys know that. And yet they all pretty much overruled my objections, even after all the attempts on our lives.
Knowing Dimitri’s businesses are pretty much destroyed due to the Alekseev’s bombing of his warehouses has left me sitting on pins and needles. If we don’t take the man out soon, he’ll have another chance to strike.
I am not made for this strange world I’ve fallen into.
One of the conditions under which I agreed to let Evie attend her school thing was if I could attend also. Of course, she had a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t but they really boiled down to the fact that it wouldn’t ‘look cool’ to her friends for her big sister to be there, and that she doesn’t ‘need a babysitter.’
Tough shit.
After all we’ve been through, I’d think the kid might have developed some common sense.
But no.
I stand in the back of the auditorium with an assortment of teachers and parents, and nod at the educators who were on staff when I was in high school. They are all too aware that Evie is very different from me, and that’s why I’m so hands-on with her.
The lights in the auditorium go dark, and the stage lights up. Before they did, I had a pretty clear view of Evie, but now without light, I can’t really keep an eye on her.
I’m hoping someone from the security team can.
It’s a cute performance these high schoolers are putting on, and as I relax, I’m glad Evie insisted on attending. She needs to get out of the house and be around people her age. Homeschooling is not a long-term solution, not for a girl like her who needs to socialize and spread her wings.
And just as I’m getting into the play, which is really well done, there is a scream from the front of the audience.
It could be nothing, but high alert is my new normal. I stand on my tiptoes and crane my neck and then there is more screaming, followed by the scraping of chairs, and the players onstage stop what they’re doing to watch something going on in the front rows.
The heavy auditorium doors burst open and the Alekseev security team flies in, weapons drawn.
No. Please, no. Not here.
This is my sister’s sanctuary. The only place where she feels like a normal teenager. It’s bad enough so much has been taken from me, but really? A sixteen-year-old girl? Where is the fairness in that? And when does it stop?
“Get the lights!” I shout and push my way to the front of the auditorium.
But when security sees me, they surround me and start to usher me out of the room.
I fight back. “Where is my sister? We have to get my sister first!” I scream.
“We’ve got her, Miss Gates, she’s right over here,” someone says, and Evie runs at me so hard she almost knocks me over.
With my arms around her, I survey the pandemonium in the room. Kids are trying to get out, but the ancient folding chairs they were in are falling over, causing everybody to trip. The teachers in the back are trying to get some sort of control of the room but their instructions are drowned out by all the noise. It’s when I hear gunshots outside, coming from the parking lot, that I understand why the security team has barred the doors, pushing back on the panicked teenagers.
This is awful. Ugly. And it’s all our fault.
