Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
OREN
This place was really fucking massive.
Box in hand, I followed after Thorne and Simon, barely keeping up with their pace. They were both ready to get this shit rolling, but goddamn, did they forget I was fucking short?
At least I brought something for Leba—Levander, fuck, whatever his name was. It was unseemly not to get a gift, and I didn’t care if he was a Mafia overlord. Gifts were never a bad thing, and based on how this compound looked, he didn’t get them often.
Inside was just the same: drab, boring, and lacking color. Maybe they just needed a feminine touch, someone with at least an art background, I thought, as we headed down the narrow hallway to the big, bad Mafia head’s office.
Running after Simon, I was panting by the time I caught up to him and grabbed his forearm. “Slower… Walk… Slower.”
Simon whipped his head to me. “Aw, shortcakes can’t keep up?” Pointing at my box, he smirked. “Probably all those damn—”
Shoving him, I flipped him off. “It’s not my fault you are both fucking giants! I’m breaking a sweat!”
“Need me to carry you?” Thorne asked with a playful wink.
“No! Then you would smush the present,” I whispered the last word, narrowing my eyes at them.
Snapping his head in my direction, Thorne’s brows narrowed. “You did not.”
“Yes. Yes, I did. It’s—”
“We’re here. I mean, assuming tweedle dee and tweedle dum are guards.” Simon jutted his thumb to the appointed men, guns slung across their shoulders as if it was casual to have them out.
Thorne blew out a frustrated breath as he looked at me. “For fucking once, could you listen to what I ask of you?”
“I just wanted…” Biting my lip, I nodded. “Okay.”
His jaw feathered, and it was then I realized he was genuinely upset with me. Pivoting on his heel, he turned to the guards. “Good to see you both again. We have a meeting with Levander this morning. Is he available?”
“Yeah, he’s been expecting you.”
“Expecting us? Fancy…” Simon mused, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced at Thorne. “Well, ready?”
With one last glance between us, Thorne nodded at the man who’d spoken and dipped his chin. Responding accordingly, the soldier shifted and opened the door for us.
Levander leaned against an ornate cherry wood desk, a glass of whiskey tucked neatly in his hand, a lit cigarette resting against the cup—smoke billowed from the ember, pluming up and around his face.
He was fucking young.
Dressed in a pair of black slacks, the attention to detail was stunning, unlike the rest of this place. His suit was tailored well, sitting perfectly on his hips, and his cream shirt was tucked into the waistband, not a wrinkle in sight. Clinking a ring against the drink, he raised it to his lips.
Freckles dotted his pink-tinged cheeks, highlighting his youthfulness. Taking a sip, a glint of silver greeted me, and I realized it was his capped canines.
Raising a brow, the flames of his hair were stark in contrast to his pallid skin. Tousled messily, yet styled perfectly, his curls rested just above his shoulder, bangs of auburn brushing against his forehead.
And despite my best interest, I caught myself staring; I expected him to be an old fart.
Simon elbowed my side, and I flicked my gaze to him. Wiggling his brows, I knew he felt the same.
“Gentlemen,” Levander crooned, placing the glass on his desk before taking a drag of his cigarette, only to put it out on his hand as Thorne did that night on our balcony. Dropping it against the ashtray, his olive gaze darted between Simon and me. “And these are?”
“Oren, my fiancé, and Simon, one of my ex-squad members.”
Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he lifted two fingers, and as if they were a verbal demand, the doors shut behind us. “Mmm. Do they not know how to speak? Are they mute?”
“Oh… I wasn’t sure whether we needed to wait to be asked to speak. Like the movies,” Oren said.
Levander’s dark brows dropped slightly, but the corner of his mouth curled. “Did your homework, huh?”
I grinned. “Yes, maybe.” Extending the box to him, I could almost feel Thorne’s gaze burrowing into mine. “For you.”
“A gift?” Levander crooned, walking toward me. Coming to a stop, he went to take the box, but instead of his fingers curling around it, they slipped through my hair as he slammed me into the wall. “Do you have a fucking death wish?”
Swallowing, I bit the inside of my cheek. “No.”
He swallowed my frame, towering over me by almost another foot. While his height was impressive, his lithe frame was smaller than mine. It didn’t matter though, because he was intimidating as hell.
The cold press of metal greeted my temple, followed by the release of a safety. “You know how many men have brought ‘gifts’ to me with the intention of ending my existence? How about I end yours?”
“I told you,” Thorne grumbled at me with a sigh before addressing the man seconds away from putting a bullet in my skull. “Levander, he’s harmless. Like a fly.”
The insult stung. My kindness hadn’t been received as I hoped, and I flicked my attention to the floor. Opting not to tell him it was cookies, I kept my mouth shut.
“He’s very… open,” Simon added, maintaining his distance.
Levander stepped closer, his body pressing against mine. “Then enlighten me, little fly. What’s in the fucking box?”
Biting back tears, I met his stare. “Macadamia nut cookies… I-I heard you like them. Well, at least when I researched, it said you did in the past...”
His hold on me loosened immediately. “You… made me cookies?”
“Yes.”
“My favorite cookies?” The shock in his timbre was palpable, as if no one had done something like that for him before.
“I… hope they are good. I made them from scratch, and sometimes I’m not the best cook. And hell, I’m normally really messy in the—”
“He’s a great cook,” Thorne interrupted, saving me from my impending spiral. “I’m sure you’ll try one and won’t be able to get enough.”
Returning his pistol to the holster on his waist, Levander pulled me away from the wall. “Forgive me for being so aggressive. I’ve just… never had someone bring me a real gift. It’s always a bomb, or well, a finger or something.”
“Jesus,” Simon interrupted, blanching slightly. “Did… Was it like, just the finger, or the hand, too?”
“Fingers, hands, arms…” Levander stepped back, giving me room. “…heads, dicks… Honestly, you name it, I’ve probably received it.”
Simon whistled. “A dick in a box. Now that’s original.”
Levander laughed, the sound rich and full of life. “Yeah. Some people suck at discovering original material.”
“And some people just suck at sucking dick,” I added, dusting off my shoulder, a bit of life returning at Thorne’s praise.
“Oh hell,” Thorne groaned, glancing between us. “I suppose this is what I get for hanging out with twenty-something-year-olds.”
“Damn, you old fart.” Simon chuckled, finding a seat to sit down in as he massaged his upper thigh. “Sorry if I needed to wait. It’s… bothering me.”
“No need to apologize.” Levander cast him a friendly smile. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’m sure we have plenty to discuss.”
Taking a spot next to Thorne after placing the box of cookies on Levander’s desk, I trailed my fingertips along his arm. My gift hadn’t been a bad idea, but he was still right. I went against what he had told me to do, but it was just… something told me to bring it, and I was glad I did.
Levander almost looked like a different man as he settled down across from us with a genuine smile.
“So, I’m aware of what occurred last night, as Thorne gave me the rundown when calling to request my services.
” Turning his attention to Simon, he continued, “Is there anything you wish to elaborate on since Graves wasn’t present in your home during the infiltration? ”
Simon swallowed, staring at his hands before he took a breath. “I… didn’t see much, but I heard a lot. S-Stefan cornered Liam, and I heard… heard him screaming.” Wringing his hands, I thought he would stop, but he continued. “There were other men there, too. But… But it was strange.”
“Strange how?” he asked, snatching the box of cookies from where I’d left them before joining us in his seating area. “Before the man knocked me out, he whispered, ‘green, help me,’ and well, it doesn’t make sense.”
As soon as he finished, Levander and Thorne locked eyes, the latter cursing under his breath. “Fuck.”
“So, it’s exactly as we suspected…” Levander dipped his fingers beneath the lip of the box, popping it open. Snagging a cookie that was a little larger than his palm, he took a quick bite, and his eyes rolled back. “Oh, fuck me… These are fucking good.”
Pride swelled, and I glanced at Thorne with the biggest smile on my face. He offered me a mirrored expression, but the usual light didn’t reach his eyes. The corners of my lips twitched, drooping slightly at his false happiness.
“Thorne, you—”
“What’s exactly as you suspected?” Simon blurted, darting between all of us. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on? This… This is my boyfriend we’re talking about.”
Speaking with his mouth full, Levander answered. “As you’re aware, Stefan runs a massive human trafficking organization. Those he chooses to keep as his favorites are either deemed mercenaries or are otherwise color-coded based on his desires.”
“What, like a sick fucking color palette?” I muttered, still absentmindedly running my fingers along Thorne’s arm.
“Primarily, yes.” The all-too-familiar gravelly voice came from beside me. “It’s how he keeps track of things. My guess is that man was trying to give you a clue, Simon. A lot of the people Stefan houses are there against their own will and want out of his clutches.”
“What… What kind of clue is that? He couldn’t have told me something more useful?” His nails dug into his legs, brows furrowing.