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)
“Ny-nyet, sir,” he murmured.
“Listen, I’ve fought jujitsu, Muay Thai, judo, tae kwon—” I slammed the gun’s handle against his ear—“do! Etcetera.”
“Simona,” he murmured, rubbing his shoulder against his bloody ear.
“Simona, what?”
“She came. I think she was expecting a party. She spoke with the father and the smart-looking one. Keith or something. They used hushed tones. Then she ordered us to allow their departure.”
Simona? My niece. I needed to speak with her. “You could’ve told me this minutes ago!”
As I turned toward the tinted windows of the building, the doors opened. In a suit, Simeon and his team strolled in.
He hugged me. “You all right, Vassili?”
“I will be. Soon. You have a superjet, but this is … quick. Thank you, brat.”
“I was in Wine Country. Anastasiya headed to the house—”
“What?” I groaned. I had less than twenty-four hours to brief my wife, per our unwritten contracts. Attorneys. My time, however, began … an hour ago and not last night. Da. I had twenty-three hours.
“Don’t worry. They’re discussing the usual, another vacation. Such planners, we won’t be bothered. After we separated, I flew to the MacKenzie house in Long Beach.”
My brow lifted. “You’ve been busy. I’d already sent men to the home.”
“Ah, your team? They left the door unlocked, spasibo.”
Rather than reply to his thanks, I barked, “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Simeon shrugged.
“What did you do?”
“The structure has not fallen.”
“What. Did. You. Do, Simeon?”
“Enjoyed a few new guns. Twenty rounds per second. Extended magazines. That’s … how many bullets in the ten minutes it took me to riddle the home?”
He looked toward his team.
“Uh …” one said.
“Ten thousand bullets?” Another offered.
“Use your brains.” He turned away with a head shake, muttering the correct number. “Vassili, it was silent. Suppressors. The works. Like I explained, the structure remains.”
“I want answers. Remember what I told you, submission—”
“Is strength under control!” Simeon shouted. “How can I forget?”
“Don’t forget this. Three Scots left with my”—my lips narrowed to nonexistent—“my little girl! Guess who let the rest of them leave The Red Door?”
His brow lifted.
My index finger bumped his chest. “Tvoya doch’.”
“My daughter?” he echoed.
40
LACHLAN
Scotland
How had I fallen asleep? Och. Natasha. Lying with her wasn’t the usual struggle where I denied myself the cravings I’d grown accustomed to with her. Fearing Borya’s intentions, I had rested my cheek on her chest, and she held me until the dark, twisted thoughts transformed to sleep.
Too soon, we arrived at the castle, which overlooked Loch Ness, reconstructed with my first-year earnings and my clan’s usual dealings. Now, I awoke again to stone walls and Natasha dressed in my white shirt as she glanced out the iron-framed window. I blinked, allowing my eyes to adjust to the gray morning and follow the path of her curvy legs. The hem of the shirt stopped just beneath ample hips.
I sat up, wearing the same jeans as when I carried her from The Red Door.
“You okay?” Natasha turned around and pulled the phone from her ear.
“Did you get through to them?”
“Just tried again for the gazillionth time.”
“Ugh.” Rubbing my eyes, I looked at her again. Nae. Still dreaming. Instead of creamy brown thighs tempting me, she had paired the undershirt with sweats.
She tugged the shirt’s hem. “Sorry. I didn’t have clothes, so I …”
“You’re cold?”
“A little.” Her attention returned to the window. “Those gray skies, though? Charming.”
“It’s July, beautiful. It’ll warm up.”
She arched a brow.
“Seventy degrees.” Give or take—aye—take at least five degrees. Her face said that seventy lacked appeal.
“In summer,” she whimpered, climbing into the bed.
“Aye.” I swooped my arms around her, bringing her beneath the blanket. “Welcome to Dùn MhicCoinnich.”
“That stands for?”
“Fort of the son of MhicCoinnich—MacKenzie. Or you can call this place Dùnloch MacKenzie. Dùn—fort. Loch—”
“Fort Lake MacKenzie. Do our children need to learn …”
My palm cupped her soft cheek, cradling her face. “Speak your peace, woman.”
But she didn’t.
“I want children. Lots of them. Or two. Depends on you, Tash.”
Natasha huffed, but the smile on her face? Not to standard.
Was she considering the assault?
Her pearly teeth cut into her plush, pink lip. “While you slept on the plane, I watched Jordyn with Cam and Willow’s baby. At departure, Camdyn tried to place the little girl in a car seat …”
“She struggled to let go.” Ah. I breathed a sigh of relief. Not for my brother and Jordyn’s situation. But for me and Natasha. Of course I cared. He hadn’t said much. Between awakening long enough to get myself off the plane, I’d noticed him place a comforting hand on the small of Jordyn’s back as she returned the cooing baby bundle to Willow’s arms.
I ran my hand over my woman’s thigh, wishing my palm brushed over her warm silk skin instead of cotton. Felt good. Not good enough. “You’re too beautiful.”
“Meh.” Her mouth corked into a grin. “I dunno, Lach.”
“I need to buy me a camera so I can take more pictures of you than the crap photos you’ve ever taken.”