Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
T he wood slams against the wall to Haldon’s office, announcing my entrance. The sound echoes around the room, capturing my best friends’ attention immediately. It’s been a whole hour since I kicked Milo out of my apartment and I’ve yet to calm down. I realized very quickly that even with all the reasons in the world to pull the trigger on Milo, I couldn’t. I can’t. Not only am I pissed off at the revelation that he’s not just a cop but fucking FBI, I’m also threatened by the sinking realization that I feel more for Milo than I thought I did.
He was nothing more than a good fuck, but somewhere along the way, I’ve allowed myself to develop feelings for him. Feelings.
Making a beeline for the bar cart behind Haldon’s desk, I pour out a heavy shot of whiskey, throwing it back. Then another. Gulp after gulp, the amber liquid burns down my throat, settling in my belly. I close my eyes, relishing in the odd relief it brings me.
When I finally bring my gaze to my two best friends, they’re watching me with wary intent. I can feel the atmosphere in the room thicken—no thanks to me and my mood—the silence deafening.
“What happened?” Haldon asks.
“He’s a fucking traitor!” I snap before turning and pouring out another measure of whiskey.
“Explain,” Roman requests.
I dart my gaze between Haldon and Roman, my jaw grinding overtime with irritation. At this rate, I’ll have no teeth left, and it’s all thanks to Milo. Fucking. Kyrovsky. I should have pulled the trigger. “It’s Kyrovsky.”
“What is?” Roman asks as he takes the drink from my hands. I resist the urge to be pissed at him, knowing he’s no doubt looking out for me. Being drunk and angry has never gotten me anywhere, and I need to think clearly right now to be able to discuss what the fuck just happened with Milo.
Appearing on the other side of me, Haldon hands me a glass filled with ice, gesturing to my face. “Here.”
That’s another thing I have Milo to thank for. Whilst inflicting pain and damage on him, I inadvertently injured myself. Though the pain is barely there, the mark it bears only reminds me of Milo. Thankfully, it’s temporary and in a few days, it’ll be gone, along with my thoughts of the fucker.
Taking the glass, I press it against my temple, just above my brow. The cool relief allows me to calm my erratic breaths—not by much, but just enough to keep my temper in check.
After a minute or so, I move to the couches, Roman and Haldon both joining me there. Roman hands me his glass, which is still filled with whiskey, and I take a careful sip before lowering myself onto the leather couch.
“I got into a fight with Milo,” I finally announce, still clutching the other glass to my face.
Roman nods in response, like he expected that to be the reason for my bad mood. I guess it doesn’t really take a genius to work out what’s been going on. I wish I could say I’d been careful enough to ward off any suspicion, but right now I can’t find it in me to think about that.
“What was it about?” Haldon asks.
How about, how much of a fucking snake he is? No, my best friends know better than to trust the Russians. I was just the idiot who fell for the one Russian I shouldn’t have.
Shit. Have I fallen for him?
Groaning, I rub my hand over my face, wincing slightly when I catch the bruise forming over my eye. “I confronted him about Prescott.”
“And?” Roman pushes for more details, no doubt because my vagueness is starting to irritate him.
I stare back at my best friend, his gaze pinned on me. “He was right… Milo’s a cop.”
“So Prescott was telling the truth,” Haldon grumbles.
“Well… not exactly.” I shake my head, taking a sip of the amber liquid. “Actually, he’s FBI.”
The room falls into an impenetrable silence, the gravity of the situation sitting heavily between us all. I know what they’re thinking even before they’ve spoken. If Milo is FBI, we’re all completely fucked. It’s easy to put blame on everyone around us, but the reality is, we should have done our research, been more vigilant. But how can you follow a ghost? Gracie couldn’t, and she’s got the skills to take down the fucking state if we asked her to.
Milo has succeeded in hiding himself from us and the Russians, but now that we know who he is, his future is ultimately up to us.
“Fuck, Vee!” Roman sighs, cutting into the quiet. “There’s a huge difference between the NYPD and FBI.”
Placing both glasses on the table, I pull out a cigarette pack from my pocket and spark one up. I take a deep inhale of the nicotine, hoping it’ll replace the poison already in my bloodstream. The poison that is Milo Kyrovsky.
“We need to figure out our next moves. I don’t fucking trust him, and?—”
“Wait,” Haldon interrupts, leaning forward and raising his hands in the air. “He told you he’s FBI, right?”
“Yeah… so?” I respond, not sure where he’s going with this.
Shifting back in his seat, he rubs a finger below his bottom lip. “You don’t trust a guy who openly told you he’s FBI?”
“Hal, that’s not?—”
“The point?” he finishes bluntly. “The fact that he came to you and admitted this, it changes things, bro.”
“He’s still working with the Russians,” I growl.
“But for how long?” Roman questions.
The fuck if I know. I don’t think I even want to, because that’s just another reason not to trust him. Milo is the snake in the grass; he’ll lull you into a false sense of safety, watch you as you relax into your surroundings. And when you’re unsuspecting, he’ll slither his way to you and launch himself, sinking his teeth into your flesh.
“I don’t think that matters right now,” Haldon mutters. “The Russians need to be taken care of first, then we worry about him. If he hasn’t already been dealt with.” I don’t miss the evil glint in his eye or the sinister undertone in his words. He’s calm as they come most of the time, but I’ve heard stories about his grandpa, and there’s no denying the ferocity that inhabits Haldon. It just lies dormant, awaiting a reason to make itself known.
I won’t lie—despite how I might feel towards Milo, there are still some reservations lingering in the back of my mind. Do I want revenge for his betrayal? Of course. But do I want him to witness the same fate as the Russians? Debatable.
First thing’s first, though. We need to get a handle on shit. Prescott is out there, and there’s no telling what else he’s feeding back to the Federovs to aid them in our demise.
“We need to get in touch with our mole,” I tell Roman. Since he has direct contact with his uncle, it’s easier for him to get the information we need. And right now, we need all the information we can get.
“I’ll see what Cillian can do,” he confirms as he slides his phone out of his pocket. He glances down at the screen, typing something before glancing back at us. “I need to handle a few things first.”
“Does one of those things include my sister?” I tease. Things have been a little tense between them since she caught us torturing her training officer the other week. I’m still pissed that we freed him.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he grumbles.
“Ro says she’s willing to work with us,” Haldon explains.
I snap my gaze between my best friends. “What?”
Huffing, Roman shifts in his seat. “She was pissed about Prescott, but she understands why we did what we did.”
“That still doesn’t detract from the fact that she defied us,” I challenge. “It was our business, and she had no right to step in.” I take a long drag from my smoke, expelling rings into the air above me.
“Sorry, bro. I have to disagree there.”
I startle at Roman’s words, almost choking on my cigarette. “What?”
“Our lives are overlapping, Vee. Prescott might be working for the Russians, but he’s also in Lani’s training program. She’s trying to keep her head down and not bring attention to who she is, and we’re fucking parading around the city with our power, potentially dragging her into our shit.”
“This has nothing to do with her!” I bark.
“But it could,” Roman challenges with the same authoritative, low tone. “Which is why we need to work with her and make sure our shit doesn’t cross over.”
“It won’t,” I assure him.
Haldon shakes his head while Roman pins me with a glare. “I’d like to agree on this, Vee, but I won’t hesitate to make the decision without you.”
It’s rare that we ever argue when it comes to business, and when it comes to my sister, I usually steer well clear, but I don’t want her to have any part in this. Not because I don’t trust her, but because she’s just as much a target, regardless of her role in The Five.
“She’s not just looking out for herself, bro. She’s looking out for us.”
Fuck. I guess when he puts it like that, I can see why she interrupted us. It still pisses me off, but maybe Roman’s right; as much as she wants out of this life, it’s dragging her into our side and we need to work with her. Plus, I can keep an eye on her this way.
With a huff, I accept defeat. If Alanis has got her claws into Roman, there’s no way I’m going to win this argument. “Fine. But if I think anything is going to put her in danger, I’m pulling rank.”
He stands up, snatching the cigarette from between my fingers and taking a drag from it. “Sure thing, Pretty Boy,” he replies with a wink, finishing off the cigarette in two drags and stamping it out in the ashtray between us. “Now, go make up with lover boy, so we can all be happy.”
I don’t respond to his snide remark. I’m still treading through that minefield of feelings right now, so I let Roman exit in silence, leaving just me and Haldon in his office.
“So, how long have you guys been fucking?”
An exasperated groan leaves my throat as I throw my head back against the couch. A headache brews behind my eyes, and I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave it off. When Haldon doesn’t push for an answer, I tilt my head towards him.
He’s sitting beside me, one leg hitched up, his ankle resting on the opposite knee. Out of the three of us, Haldon always looks the freshest, the most put together. I envy him for not having the same troubles as us, though I know it’s only a matter of time before someone catches his eye the same way Milo did to me.
“I’ll tell you when you tell me the name of every girl you’ve fucked.”
“Well, shit,” he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “If I knew you were gonna do me like that, I would’ve kept my mouth shut.”
“Pick your battles wisely, Gambino.”
He raises a brow at me, clearly ignoring my reluctance to delve into detail about the situation between me and Milo. It’s not that I’m intent on keeping it a secret. That ship sailed about twenty minutes ago. I’m just not sure if I want to relive the last few months. I guess I owe it to my best friend since it’s rare we even talk about this shit. I tend to keep my personal life as just that. I don’t need any input on whether I’m making a good choice or bad one, whether there’s more to me fucking the enemy or not. I’m a closed book when it comes to my cock and where I stick it, but maybe it’s time I changed that.
Sighing, I head towards the bar cart. If we’re going to talk about my sex life, I’m going to need another drink. I pour out a heavy measure for both of us, taking a deep breath as I turn around to face Haldon.
“So, you remember the fight night a few months ago…”