Chapter 30
WAR
B y the time we arrive in Coynston, we’re flanked by three vehicles full of Crue guys.
Trick’s message to the world may be that his little sister is under a massive amount of protection, but his private message for me is different, I’m sure.
With the heavily-armed entourage surrounding the rented truck, he’s showing me he can mobilize an army to immediately retrieve her anytime he wants.
I don’t react. No reason to. His warning is two days too late to make an impression. I’ve had her now. She’s mine.
When we arrive, Ashling hops out without waiting for me to open her door. When I circle the truck, she grabs my sleeve to pull me along as she heads to Trick’s house. “Let’s hurry. I’m half frozen. Aren’t you?”
“Russian.”
That brings a small smile to her lips. “Don’t say that too loud. My family kind of wants me to be with someone Irish. You’re half, so let’s emphasize that.”
Ash unlocks the door. After holding it open for her, I step inside right behind her .
Her sister-in-law comes out, followed closely by all four of the Crue kids. Trick’s two blue-eyed sons. And the Stroviak girls.
“Here’s Ash. Safe and sound,” Laurelyn, the sister-in-law, says.
Ashling drops to her knees and holds out her arms to give them all hugs.
“You?” the little blond nephew says, stopping short and eyeing me. “You go.”
“Oh, hang on,” Ash says, scooping up her nephew and giving him a kiss. “He helped Aunt Ash when she needed it, and we’re friends now. Shake hands, okay, Finn?”
The kid gathers his tiny fists to his chest and hits me with a skeptical look that’s a carbon copy of his dad’s when the older Patrick appears.
“Hey, can you take the kids to the playroom?” Trick says to Ash. “I need a word with War.”
“Yeah, sure,” Ash says. “Come on, guys.” The little Stroviak princess and the older of the Patrick boys follow Ashling, but the younger Stroviak girl stands practically toe-to-toe with me. Her glare is the one Trick would probably like to hit me with, but he doesn’t know yet whether he’s got cause.
“What do you want?” I ask her.
She starts to turn then whirls back and socks me in the shin with a compact little fist. It’s a good hit for a kid.
In Russian, I ask, “You looking for a fight?”
She pops her feet apart and brings her fists up at the ready. Then looks me in the eye from the vicinity of my knee and slowly nods for me to come at her.
“Can’t do it here,” I say, low and sinister. “The blond girl wouldn’t like it.”
“Gone.”
My gaze clicks to where Ashling has stopped by the steps and stands watching us. “Not gone.”
The little fighter glances over her shoulder, sees Ash, and drops her fists slowly.
In English, I say, “Didn’t you hear? We’re all friends now. ”
The dark expression the girl delivers along with a harsh “No” causes me to smirk.
“This one is my goddaughter,” Trick says, putting out a fist.
As the girl stalks by him, she bumps his fist with hers before running over to the stairs and bounding up them.
Once Ash and her kiddie entourage are gone, I follow Trick into what I guess is a study. There are built-in bookshelves in slate gray, some modern-looking dark chairs, and a stone table with a desktop computer and printer.
“What’s the word?” I ask, glancing over the bookshelves.
The books are mostly nonfiction, a mix of business, computer and leadership. There are a few novels. Definitely not enough military history for my taste.
“Exactly what I’m wondering.”
Turning to face him, I wait. “Is it?”
His expression is neutral, but I know better than to trust it.
“The answer to your question, Trick, is yes. There’s something between Ashling and me.”
“You would be wise to slow down.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to.” We exchange a look that says nothing and everything. My tone and expression aren’t hostile, but they are resolute. “To stop me, you’ll need to drop me. Because as long as I’m alive, I will never stop coming for her.”
The blue of his eyes, the same sky blue as hers, grows cloudy as he turns from the light. “That right? You sure?”
My stare doesn’t waver. “I’m sure.”
“You think she’s as certain?”
“Probably not. But seems willing to find out.”
“As long as you’re alive? Pretty melodramatic.”
“Only if I don’t mean it.”
He rests back against his desk, palms on the stone and nowhere near his gun. A good sign. “So what about this Bergmann guy?”
“Already dead would suit me. ”
“Despite his Petrov ties? Thought you might’ve done some work for them in the past?”
“Maybe I did in Russia. Didn’t always know who I was working for back then.”
“Heard they speak to you in Russian now, so we wouldn’t know what was said. Ash, C, and I wouldn’t anyway.”
“Maybe Stroviak can tutor you. Must have some flashcards left over from teaching his daughters.”
Trick’s smile is so unexpected my brows rise.
“Sure.” When his smile fades, he pushes off from the desk to stand. “Head over to C’s. He’ll lay out the plan for my cousin’s retrieval.”
“Your cousin?”
“My cousin by marriage, yeah.”
“Sure,” I say noncommittally.
That he wants me out of his house is obvious, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I’ve become a pain in the ass where his younger sister is concerned or whether there are darker forces at play now.
Either way, I can’t walk away. The girl I’m obsessed with is at the heart of everything and, as I’ve already said, I will go nowhere but the grave without her.
ASH
In the playroom with its “forest full of woodland creatures” mural, the kids play with dizzying energy.
When I finish directing an athletic game of Simon Says, Irina curls up in a window seat with her e-reader, definitely done with the craziness.
The other three continue to chase each other around the room, playing tag as though the confined space really was an endless expanse of woods.
Moving to the other window seat, I spot War as he emerges from the house into the backyard. Impatient to hear how things went between him and my brother, I leave the playing kids and head downstairs.
Throwing on my coat and boots, I’m gratified to find them warm enough when I step outside.
Sasha appears ahead on the path, seemingly waiting for War. Something in the set of Sasha’s shoulders makes me uneasy.
When War sees Sasha, he stiffens, too, and slows but continues in his direction. I can’t say what it is in Sasha’s expression that makes me break into a run, but I race around the running path to join them.
“Did you plan to do something with my kids?” Sasha asks.
The breath freezes in my lungs, and I stop dead, waiting for War’s answer.
“Not to hurt them.”
“Oh, my God.” The words come out of me on a gasp, one I can’t control. “You—what the hell?” Within me, emotions explode, like blood pouring from a wound. “Were you using me to get close to them? Did you trick us?” My hands ball into fists as I try to keep it together.
War turns, surprised to see me. “No. It wasn’t like that. You’re the reason I slowed up.”
I squeeze my fists tighter. Is he lying? I don’t trust myself to be objective where he’s concerned.
Sasha’s grim expression turns even graver. “Ash, go back to Trick’s.”
“No, I need to hear this. I?—”
Sasha’s hand reaches out to usher me away from them, but War moves an arm out to block it.
“If she wants to stay, she stays,” War says. His eyes lock with mine for a moment, inviting me to hear the worst of it.
After a beat, Sasha stills, dropping his hand. “Someone’s got information about an arrangement you made involving my kids. A kidnapping plot.”
“No. I would’ve rescued them if they’d needed it. After you were dead. I know plenty that makes me think your daughters would be better off in another situation.”
“What fucking stories did you hear? No one in Russia knows me. I’ve lived in Coins my whole life.”
“Got around though, didn’t you? Leaving a wake of domestic destruction behind.”
Sasha doesn’t react, but I’m sure he must be as confused as I am. His wife Rachel is the love of his life, and, as far as I know, the only woman he’s ever had a real relationship with.
My mind races as I try to piece things together, and memories of things I’ve heard click into place. There’s only one possible connection War could be angry about. “Sasha, you lived with C after your mom died, right? Did you sleep with C’s sister?”
“Oh,” Sasha says, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. His laser-like gaze never leaves War’s face. “So that’s why you think you’ve got a stake in this?”
“Oh, my God,” I hiss. “You did? And didn’t keep in contact with her at all, even after she had a baby that could’ve been yours?” Fury causes my voice to rise. “Do you know what War went through growing up? He needed you.”
“Wait,” Sasha says, his tone sharp with anger now, too. “I never slept with her. If your mother told you that, she lied.”
“Come the fuck on,” War says. “I’m built like you.
I sound like you. And your youngest daughter?
She’s a carbon copy of me at that age. Same expressions, same mannerisms, everything.
Always ready to do battle. Where do you think I got the nickname War?
The guy who thought he was my father gave it to me.
Then my mother got pissed one night and told him I wasn’t even his son. ”
Sasha’s eyes narrow now, staring at him.
“It’s true,” I accuse. “I saw a video of him as a little boy. It took my breath away. It’s Makayla exactly, Sasha.”
War glares at Sasha. “You’re lucky you act like a good father to your latest kids because I know you ran through young girls by the dozens. If you’d been fucking Ashling, I would have killed you. You left kids all over that you never?—”
“No,” Sasha barks. “Listen to what I’m telling you. The man you’re talking about is probably my father Vasily. It’s not me. I was never with your mother. Her only interest in me was getting me kicked out of their house because I was taking the spare room she used as a closet.”
“She said?—”