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Bobby:Didn't get past me, boss. Just texted you to tell you they are on the way in. Do you want backup?
Alone, I wouldn't need backup against three men. No matter how well trained. But Lucia is here. So is her favorite bartender. Hell, she'll be upset ifanyof her employees get hurt. Only way to guarantee that doesn't happen is to lure the assholes outside.
Atlas:Call in Theo and Michael and meet me by the back door.
The bratva bastards make it easy, coming toward me on their way to Lucia. I bump into one, lifting his gun on contact. The clueless bastard doesn't even realize it, but he does shove me and start yelling at me in Russian.
"Watch out, bitch."
I smile at him, a Dímios smile and he frowns. One of his friends backs up a step. The other looks at me warily.
"Your brothers cried like the little bitches they were when I killed them," I say in Russian.
Fury turns all three men's faces even uglier than they already are. The one I bumped jumps toward me, but I spin away, grab his arm, whip him around and shove his own gun into his side. His body now acts as a shield between me and his buddies.
"What's going on?" Lucia asks from behind me.
An unfamiliar feeling makes my heart pound.
Fear. This woman has a nose for trouble, or a magnet drawing it to her. She attracted me, didn't she?
Turning slightly so I can see her, I keep my body between her and the bratva soldiers and tighten my hold on the man acting as my shield. "Nothing for you to worry about,ílios mou."
Her eyes narrow. "He was yelling at you. In Russian."
She heard that? She doesn't understand Russian, or she would have asked questions at the bar that night. Lucia is too curious and intelligent to have done anything else.
"No big deal. I was surprised to see them in the club and bumped into Ivan here." I've got no clue what the man's real name is, but Ivan will do.
Other than the name, I'm careful to tell Lucia the truth. Something inside me roars like a beast at the idea of lying to her. There's a hell of a lot I'm not telling her, but that isn't the same as telling her something that is not true.
That feels like a betrayal and I won't do it.
"Right?" I dig the gun harder into the Russian's side.
"Da."
"English, asshole," I bark.
"Yes."
"Friends of yours?" Lucia asks, her dark eyes glowing with curiosity.
"They want a word. I'm taking them outside," I answer ignoring the actual question. "Right?"
"Da. Yes," my hostage corrects himself when I squeeze my fingers together on his shoulder, pinching the nerve there. "We talk outside."
His voice is hoarse with pain, but he also doesn't sound terrified. His two compatriots get self-satisfied looks on their faces when they hear we are going outside.
Which tells me three things. One, they all speak English. Two, they think they can take me. And three, the Golubev Bratva's kill order on me is about as effective as a paring knife against a machine gun.
Not a single bratva soldier I've run into has recognized my face. If these three recognized me, they would not be so eager to go outside with me.
Maybe I killed the soldiers who were tasked with researching me. Chances are good, considering how many I have taken out.
Regardless of the reason, the bratva know nothing about who theirpalachis and the bounty they have on my head is worthless. Not one of them knows what their bogeyman looks like and that has already cost three of them their lives.
Tonight, it will cost three more.
