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I snorted a laugh as we left Christian’s corpse behind, walking back through the kitchen. Shit. My dad was going to be pissed that all his kitchen staff was dead. The people who worked here were like family to him and the boys.
“When you were younger, you used to play act with your imaginary friends from the books you read.”
“No, I didn’t,” she denied vehemently.
“Yeah, you did,” I told her. “Thank god you stopped doing that beforeTwilightcame out. Shit would have gotten weird.”
Kenzi blew out her lips. “Never fucking readTwilight.”
“Say that to the journal decorated in Team Jacob stickers you used to hide under your bed.”
Kenzi shot me a colorful string of swear words that would have a sailor blushing. “I knew someone read it.”
“Oh, Jacob.” I threw my hand up on my forehead and dramatically swooned. “You can take me like an animal.”
“Gross.” Kenzi stuck her tongue out at me. “I did not say that.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Did—”
“Girls!” My father’s voice boomed from the bar lobby. “Do you mind having some sense of awareness here? What if there were still hostiles? You two arguing over sparkling vampires would have easily given you away.”
Kenzi and I exchanged a contrite look.
“I was just following the assassin.”
Threw her right under the bus.
Kenzi gasped. Drama queen. Ninjas don’t gasp like that.
“Ava got herself snatched again.”
Traitor.
I pointed my finger in her face. “She knifed someone in the alley.”
“And I’m about to ground both of you.”
That shut us up.
Not that he could actually ground us, but it would be fun to watch him try.
Kenzi shot me a sly smile, her eyes sparkling. I had been worried that I lost the sister I had grown up with. The one who was always full of smiles and sass. Maybe I didn’t lose her. Maybe there was hope after all.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
“Why does this feel like a fucking set up?” I breathed as we walked into my office at Cataclysm, one of the kinkier clubs I owned in Seattle. “We’ve never had a problem with any of our shipments from Maine before, but now three in less than a month? Something is not right.”
Vas hummed his agreement as he assembled his FN PS90. It was standard carry for my people when performing ambushes or raids. It was smaller and more compact than an AK-47 or AR-15. It was also more reliable. It allowed for a thirty-round magazine, and the bullet was lighter than a 115 grain 9mm and traveled nearly twice as far.
“Do you think Ricardo is in on it?” he wondered, passing one of the magazines to Maksim. That was a fair question. We had been using Ricardo as our supplier for years, and he had never fucked up before, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be bought. If someone offered the proper incentive, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned on me. I just hope I was wrong.
“Anything is possible.”
The door to my office opened, and in walked Nicolai.
