Page 30 of Merciless Bratva Soldier

He smiles above my head, and I sense it in the way his arms tighten around me. “But you’re the one whose ex-husband is in over his head.”

It takes several beats for this to penetrate the chaos in my head. When it does, I extricate myself from his arms and peer up at him. I know Nikolai well enough to realize that this isn’t a distraction to ease his guilt. Distractions are for politicians and journalists getting paid to say what the puppet master wants the public to know. But the look in his eyes makes every hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“What do you mean?” I ask although I can already guess.

“Debt. Some people will wait to get their money back, and others…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s a brittle edge to my voice that wasn’t there last night, and I don’t like it.

“I needed to be certain. In my line of work, we need all the facts before we act.”

Before he kills someone, he means. The thought sours in my mouth, erasing the mental image of me riding Nikolai’s cock on my bed while he covered my breasts with his inked hands.

“And you’re certain now?” I ask.

“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate.

I take out my phone, find the message from Saturday night, the one I didn’t answer, and turn it around to show him.

Saw you’ve got a new friend. Hope he’s worth it, V.

He reads it.

“That was from Daniel,” I say. “Saturday. After you told me about the car.”

His hands ball into fists, his jaw is clenched so tightly I swear I hear it crack. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

Nikolai places his hands on my shoulders and lowers his head, and the weight of him almost makes me feel like everything will be all right.

Almost.

“Protecting you is my job,” he says. “I will die for you, pchelka.”

His Russian pet name for me sucks more tears to my eyes. “Please don’t.”

“I’ll try not to,” he says. “No one else has ever made me want to stay alive more.”

12

NIKOLAI

Maxim sees me at nine the next morning. Anton is on the speaker on Maxim’s desk because he’s working up north, and the photograph of Vera is on my phone screen, face up between us.

They listen without interrupting while I tell them what I know. When I finish, Maxim studies the photograph for a while.

“No more loads,” he says eventually. “Keep your eyes on what he already has.”

“Whatever’s left in Hammond goes out on Monday,” Anton says. “On a truck we lost once already.”

“Then find out whose truck.” Maxim looks at me. “Not Anton’s people. You.”

I nod once.

“Don’t touch anyone.”

I don’t answer that. He doesn’t need me to.