Chapter 9 – BODHI
BODHI
The sun is barely up when Igor appears at the end of the corridor, his scarred face impassive as ever. He looks at my rumpled clothes and weary expression but doesn’t comment.
“Boss wants to see you.”
I push off from the wall outside Emma’s door and roll the stiffness out of my shoulders. I’ve been standing here all night, listening to her toss and turn, until dawn finally coaxed her into bed, giving her the courage to abandon her post at the door.
“Now?” I ask, though I’m already moving toward him. I don’t want to leave her, but I need to stretch my legs.
Igor just grunts and turns, expecting me to follow. I spare one last glance at my mate’s door before falling into step behind him.
My fingers curl around the bronze key in my pocket, giving me comfort that nobody will be going in there while I’m gone.
The mansion is quieter in the early morning light. The bustle of staff here last night is muted now.
We descend the sweeping staircase and pass through a series of corridors until we reach a formal dining room that looks like it belongs in a magazine spread.
Kozlov sits alone at the head of a massive table, newspapers spread before him, looking every inch the successful businessman in his charcoal suit. The dark tattoos showing beneath his collar and at his wrist are the only hints of what lies beneath the civilized veneer.
“Ah, Lennox.” Kozlov gestures to a chair without looking up from his paper. “Sit. Have some breakfast.”
The table is weighed down with an elaborate spread.
Fresh fruit piled high, pastries that smell of melted butter and icing sugar, and eggs Benedict that look almost too perfect to eat.
All laid out in front of one man who dines alone.
I’ve never seen extravagance like this. I’ve got the appetite of a bear, but this feels like a waste.
I take the offered seat and help myself to coffee, waiting. Men like Kozlov don’t summon you for small talk. He wants something.
“I noticed something interesting on the security feed.” A pause. “You.” Kozlov finally sets down his paper, pale eyes fixing on me with unsettling focus, and I wait for him to make his point. “You stood outside Miss Wilson’s door all night. The guards assure me you didn’t even take a nap.”
I take a slow sip of strong coffee, letting the bitterness steady me. “When we brought Emma inside, some of your men seemed far too intrigued by her for my liking.”
His eyebrow arches slightly. “Did they now?”
His voice drops in tone, and the paper crinkles between his fingers, his grip hardening.
“You explicitly told me to keep her safe, and you didn’t specify when that duty ended.” I set down the cup, meeting his gaze directly. “If something happened to her on my watch, I know exactly whose head would roll.” I shrug. “I wasn’t taking any chances.”
Kozlov studies me for a long moment, so I settle in, unhurried, like I belong here. He needs to believe that I’m just the new guy who wants to cover his ass on his first day playing in the big leagues. Self-preservation and ambition. Those are things a man like Kozlov understands.
Finally, he smiles, a cold expression that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Smart man.” He picks up his coffee and swirls the dark liquid.
“I appreciate someone who takes initiative, Lennox. Too many of my men need their hands held through every decision, or aren’t willing to go above and beyond.
They’ve become lazy. Too comfortable in their positions.
” He pauses, considering. “I’m putting you in charge of her security until the auction.
You can use a couple of Igor’s men if you need them, but she’s your responsibility now. Round the clock until I say otherwise.”
I keep my face blank even as my bear bellows in triumph. “Understood.”
“Good.” Kozlov returns to his newspaper, clearly dismissing me. “And Lennox? Don’t disappoint me.”
Igor’s warning from last night echoes in my head as I meet Kozlov’s eye, and he gives me a brief nod, tipping his head toward the door.
Time to leave. I push back from the table and hold Kozlov’s gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
“I won’t.”
As I follow Igor out of the dining room, Dimitri goes inside. I listen for his gravelly tone and slow my steps, letting Igor get ahead of me while I strain to hear.
“He hasn’t gone to the cops, but he’s nervous.” Dimitri’s voice carries a note of impatience. “We should just kill him now before he becomes a problem. We already have the girl.”
I drop to a crouch and retie my laces, ignoring Igor, who turns and gives me an exasperated look, checking his watch to highlight his annoyance.
“Patience.” Kozlov’s voice is calm and measured. “Jake has until Sunday. Let’s see if he manages to scrape together the money.”
So, they still have eyes on Emma’s brother.
“And if he does come up with the money?”
A pause. Then, with casual cruelty that makes my blood run cold, “Kill him anyway. Can’t have him telling anyone where his sweet little sister went.”
Dimitri laughs, a low, ugly sound. “Gladly.”
So, the deadline was never real. Jake’s dead no matter what he does. I need to get word to Chase.
Igor’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You coming or what?”
I uncurl my fingers slowly, stand to my full height, and follow him back down to the guards’ quarters. Through one open door, I glimpse an unmade bed, clothes strewn all over the floor, and beer bottles crowding the bedside locker.
“Been bringing in extra muscle lately,” Igor says as we walk. “Some of them seem to think they’re living in a frat house.”
We push through a door into thick cigarette smoke hanging in layers, and my sensitive shifter nose wrinkles in disgust. If I didn’t hate these men before, I do now.
The three men hunched over a poker table look up, cards paused mid-shuffle. The one facing me lifts his head, a fat cigar dangling from one corner of his mouth as he looks me over. From the glasses on the table and the beer bottles littering the floor, it looks like they’ve been playing all night.
No wonder Kozlov wants new staff.
“This is Bodhi Lennox,” Igor says. “Kozlov’s putting him on the private security detail. He’s in charge of the girl.”
Eyebrows raise. There’s surprise at the new appointment. They’ve heard the name, but it’s not normal for a new member of the crew to be put in charge of a prized asset.
“Oh, I’ve heard about you,” one says. “And your Dad.” Sitting back, he clasps his hands together on his barrel chest. “Pavel.” He nods to the men at the table. “Rico. Snake.”
I give them a curt nod, taking in everything I can without looking too eager.
Pavel’s the alpha of this little pack, calm and solid. Snake has the twitchy energy of someone who enjoys violence a little too much. He’s not here for the money but for the chaos. Rico, who watches quietly, cards forgotten, eyes sharp, falls somewhere in between.
“So why you?” Snake asks, narrowing his eyes. He turns to Igor, his tone getting pissy as he realises this is essentially a demotion for him. “Why him?”
Igor stares at the young man, who turns in his seat, looking for support from his friends.
“You think you’re impressing Kozlov with this,” Igor says, gesturing to the table full of cards and booze. As Snake stands, brows drawn down and anger etched into every line of his thin face, Igor doesn’t react. In fact, he sighs, clearly used to his attitude and tired of dealing with it.
“Sit down, Snake,” Pavel says, throwing his cards down onto the table and stacking up his money. “It’s just till Saturday.”
Snake doesn’t sit, but he does take a swig from his beer bottle before angrily snatching up his phone and sliding it into his back pocket. “I’m not taking orders from a newbie.”
“Fine. Then you’ll take orders from me,” Igor snaps. “Anyone has a problem with that, take it up with Kozlov.”
Snake’s eyes narrow, but he drops back into his chair with a shrug that promises this isn’t over.
“Piotr says he wants to work the blue wing,” Snake offers, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. “I’ll swap with him.”
Absolutely no fucking way. Piotr is not getting anywhere near my mate.
“Piotr can say whatever he wants.” I hold Snake’s gaze until he looks away. “But Kozlov gave me this job, and if Piotr has a problem with that, he can take it up with me directly.”
The room goes quiet. Now they know I’m deathly serious.
Good.
Let them think whatever they want if that fear keeps them away from Emma.
Igor clears his throat. “Your room’s down the hall.
Third door. Get yourself settled, then go collect the princess from her tower and escort her to the kitchen for some food.
We don’t want those curves wasting away.
” He checks his watch. “Then make yourself scarce by midday. Boss has some guests coming, and he doesn’t want anyone hanging around. ”
“What kind of guests?”
“Prospective customers, but not for Emma.” Igor’s expression shutters. “The kind you don’t ask questions about. And you don’t want to know who you are.”
Fair enough.
He looks around at everyone at the table. “That goes for all of you. Unless you get a direct invitation from Kozlov, stay away. If these people know you’ve seen their face, you become a loose end.”
Whatever ill will there is about my sudden arrival is replaced with an unease about the upcoming visitors. Whoever they are, they must be pretty scary people with deep pockets. The locked door with the permanent guard springs to mind. Whatever they’re coming here to see must be behind that door.
Or whoever.
I squeeze past the men and out the door, ignoring their unfriendly stares and the whispered conversation that starts up the moment I’m through. Of course they’re going to talk. In their eyes, I haven’t proven myself worthy to be part of their little gang, let alone lead it.
“So that’s the guy? The one that...”
I don’t hang back to eavesdrop on what they say about me. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. And Chase is right, the worse they think of me, the better.
When I shove open the door to my room, I’m unsurprised by the bland decor.
One double bed. One locker and a small wardrobe.
Everything I need, and the lap of luxury compared to sleeping on the hard ground outdoors, as I’ve been doing for weeks.
In the corner, the duffel bag I brought to the club sits.
The zipper is open, searched thoroughly by the security guards downstairs, I presume.
I drop the bag on the off-white comforter, glancing inside to make sure everything is still there, before deciding not to jinx myself by unpacking. I don’t plan on staying long.
First things first, I pull out my phone and send a coded message to Chase’s secure line, updating him on what I overheard. Jake’s deadline. The plan to kill him, regardless. Saturday’s auction. The mysterious guests arriving at midday.
Then I pocket the phone and head back toward the blue wing.
A maid pushing a linen cart gives me a wide berth, eyes downcast, and a guard I don’t recognize nods once as we pass each other on the stairs. I nod back, memorizing his face, along with every exit, every window, every potential escape route, and where the cameras are located.
I stop a few feet from her door and pull out my phone, checking the camera feed one last time.
She’s still curled on her side in the massive bed, the coverlet tangled around her legs.
Her hair fans across the pillow like spun gold, and even in the grainy footage, I can see the tension in her shoulders and the furrow between her brows.
She’s not resting easily. She’s thinking, worrying, even in sleep.
I close the remaining distance, the bronze key warm in my palm, as I turn it over between my fingers.
Today is a whole new day. The closeness from last night is likely gone, and I’ll be back to being another captor.
Her walls will be back up. I have to prepare myself for the likelihood that she’s going to look at me with those fierce green eyes, probably tell me I’m a prick again, and I’m going to have to pretend that doesn’t make me want to pull her into my arms and never let go.
It’s not personal, she’s scared. And once I get her out of here, we can start over.
I slide the key into the lock and brace myself for her anger and despondency.
Time to wake up, my mate.