Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“She needs protection and medical care.” I spoke low, hoping my logic would be the reason he also survived the night for allowing us to leave.
In the back seat, I cradled Natasha, tears dripping onto her soft cheeks. Baby cheeks. Too innocent for her father’s world. My thumb brushed her skin, begging her to wake. Little Brody floored the gas. Mam clutched the handle, barking for him to head to Long Beach.
“Do you think she has time?” I asked, fingers threading through Natasha’s hair.
“We don’t know these people, son. We are taking her to a family friend. I’m texting our cousins now. They’ll meet us there.”
Backup. I got it. In case they followed us.
I looked back.
Two black SUVs were on our tail, headlights blinding, engines snarling.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
“Do you have Vassili’s number?” she asked.
“Yeah.” My thumb continued to coax Natasha’s cheek.
“Okay. Natasha is probably drugged, son. Borya—perhaps the whole lot of them—are on the take by Resnov enemies. A shame, really.”
My hand swiped over my brow, pouring sweat. Nervous. Vassili hates me. He’s not gonna listen to reason.
“Please focus on that call,” Mam encouraged. “Tell the lad all you know. Every detail.”
Lifting up, I slid the phone from my back pocket. This man was gonna murder my entire family over a mistake—over his disloyal enforcer— if I didn’t convince him that he bred this snake.
Jesus, help me. The call rang and rang. “Grrrr.” I tapped the top of the phone against my temple a few times and dialed again.
“What do we do?” Little Brody asked. “My wife … our brothers. Da. They’re … at The Red Door.”
“What we do, son, is”—Mam infused encouragement, squeezing his shoulder—“drive faster. Lose the tail.”
37
SIMONA
It was just past five a.m., and I hadn’t slept yet. My favorite cousin. Nyet, my sister. My sister was missing. Had I made a mistake listening to Lachlan’s father when I arrived at The Red Door later than Natasha suggested? I guess not late enough to miss the aftermath of a hostile civil war.
Big Brody’s calm tone, which my father lacked, quelled my usual suspicions. Of course, the cute, calm, and also married one flanked his side.
Keith. No Leith. Da. A shame. He was a good one. Now, glaring at yet another brother, I slurped the final bits of my caramel ribbon crunch frap.
The baby.
What’s his name?
“Wake up, so I can find out,” I muttered.
My protector, Baran, stood arms folded near the bedroom door. Despite his cross expression, he raised an eyebrow, questioning me. I shook my head. Father never repeated himself. Me either.
Father didn’t know, but I never left home without Baran.
He caught my attention again, visions of red dancing in his slitted eyes when they darted toward MacKenzie Number Seven. So innocent.
My eyes narrowed on Baran. A warning.
One last slurp. I climbed from Baby MacKenzie’s computer chair so fast it swiveled. I removed the switchblade from my leather tights, flicked my wrist.
Baran grinned.
I rolled my eyes. Not so fast, priyatel’—buddy.
I ran the silver hilt along Baby MacKenzie’s bare foot.
The soft snores transitioned. A mumbled chuckle.
Really? Wake up already! I turned the knife and pricked, quickly and fast. A minuscule puncture.
The Scot jumped from his pale skin. Jake needed to sit in the sun like his brothers. He clutched the sheets, hiding a six-pack, a pleasant detail that caught my eye.
“What the—what the—Simona Resnov?”
“Nyet. Resnova. I’m a woman, not a man! Now, I’m not a grammar instructor. I’ll ask the questions, Baby MacKenzie.” I wriggled my jaw, and the grit from my tone dissipated. “Your father told me they were taking Natasha to the hospital last night.” My tone remained silky soft. “They lied to me.”
“Where is my brat?” Baran flew from near the door onto the bed. Baby MacKenzie threw a foot, connecting with my guard’s boxy jaw.
As Baran lifted a fist and brought it back, I grabbed his arm. “Stop!”
He stood at ease, hands behind him.
Jake stuttered, “Listen, y-you and Shrek …”
“Shrek? Nyet! He is Baran. His brother, Borya, is missing. Someone framed him.” My tone softened, empathetic. “You have brothers. Wouldn’t that—”
“Missing? Framed? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about! Can’t help you.” He glared at Baran. “Sure as hell don’t know where your brother went.”
“Are you certain, Baby MacKenzie?”
“Please!” He groaned. “My name is Jake. But forget about that. Forget about me. I’ll forget you came here.”
My gaze landed on a photo of the brainiac and a blond in a lab coat.
“Simona, what are you looking—hey, stop. Drop it!” Jake scrambled to his feet. When I turned around, he was close. Too close. With the sharp chink, I splayed my switchblade at his chiseled chest. “You did good. A future doctor. Or is she already a—”
“Don’t.”
“C’mon, Baby MacKenzie. I like you.” Closing the blade, I pocketed it. “You’re a fellow bookworm.” I snapped a quick pic of the photo of him and Future Doctor, then placed it on the nightstand. In a few taps, I pretended to send her image via a text. He’d read enough thrillers to predict my next move.