Page 9 of Ripping the Odds

“Daria Turner. Pru’s sister.” She stalked forward, crossing her arms over her chest, nodding toward the door. “You can leave now. I’ve got her.”

“Easy, Hellraiser,” Dimitri warned, stowing his pistol. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to poke the bear?”

“Nope.” She popped the P. “They bought us big ass cans of bear spray.”

Daria shouldered past Zak, sat on the edge of the mattress near my hip and took my hand in hers. The expression on her face hardened when she asked, “Who do I need to kill?”

“I think I’m in love,” Dimitri muttered.

Zakhar

Fatigue settled in my bones like an old friend. It had been a long, sleepless night, and my fumes were running on fumes. Between dealing with the FBI and worrying over Pru, I’d been awake going on thirty hours. We all had. Dimi, Kas, and Mak stayed by my side through it all without question.

Against my better judgement, I gave Pru a little alone time with her sister. It took everything in me to let her out of my sight. Sure, Machail was dead, but when the head was cut off of a beast, sometimes what grew back in its place was far worse. It was the monster I didn’t know which made my fear for her safety very real and equally justified.

Mak leaned against the far wall, typing away on his cell phone, his brow furrowed. Something was wrong.

“Tell me,” I demanded.

“Emil sent me the body count. Three of Machail’s men are unaccounted for in the rubble.”

A bomb had detonated at the warehouse seconds after we cleared the exit, reducing the building to a pile of cinder and ash. It was Machail’s backup plan, not our doing. Either he made it out alive, or no one did. What he hadn’t counted on was Agent Biggs’ team arriving in time to save us all. Arrogant bastard.

“I want names, Mak. Dig up everything.”

“Already on it.”

“And while you’re at it, run a background check on Daria Turner.”

“It’ll be in your inbox within the hour.”

“Send it to me too, Mak,” Dimi stated without a shed of amusement.

Of the four of us, he was the least gun-shy when it came to showing women attention, although I couldn’t remember the last time he had a serious relationship. Basically, he was all flirt, no action, which made his comment even more curious. Could he actually be interested in Daria, or did he see her as a challenge?

“Tread lightly, Dimi,” Mak warned.

“Exactly. We have no idea if this woman has an ulterior motive,” Kas interjected. Of course he didn’t believe she’d flown to West Virginia for the sole purpose of helping her injured sister. Jesus, I fucking hated his so-called family. They were the ones who ensured his trust didn’t come easily or freely. Even though he hadn’t spoken to them in years, they continued to influence his life.

Mak shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “No, drama queen. I told him to be cautious because she’s Pru’s sister. She’ll be our family soon enough.”

“Dick,” Kas muttered under his breath.

“You’re all giving me a headache.” I turned to Dimi. “What time are you heading back?”

“In an hour.” He and Mak would return to New Jersey, to manage The Four Kings while my best friend remained at my side. After a beat, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “How long will you stay?”

“Until Prudence is stable enough to be transferred. I’ll speak with her doctors this morning.”

“What if that takes weeks, Zak? Or even months? You have a business to run.”

“I’ll come home when she does.”

My word was law. There was no room for argument, not that they would have tried. From the day of her interview and every day since, my brothers watched my feelings for Pru grow into something unexplainable. They even supported me when I buried those feelings deep, foolishly believing it would keep her safe from our world. Lying to myself nearly cost me everything. I wouldn’t waste the second chance I’d been given.

Thumping the top of my shoulder with his fist, Dimi smiled. “It’s about fucking time you extracted your head from your ass.” He and Mak disappeared into the elevator, leaving me to begin planning for the future.

Unfortunately, those plans hadn’t accounted for the roller coaster ride we were forced to endure over the following five days. The bruises littering Prudence’s body were starting to fade, however the wounds on her right leg had gone from bad to worse. The doctors called it osteomyelitis, an infection which had spread to the bone. Her room became a revolving door of specialists, each with their own opinion, none drawing the same conclusion. You’d think those fuckers would talk to one another. Vascular surgery said amputation was the only option, while the infectious disease doctor thought six more weeks of intravenous antibiotics might be able to clear up the infection. Might. All the while, it was getting harder and harder to control Pru’s pain.