Chapter Seventeen #3
Katarina sneered at him. “You idiots are so dumb, you don’t know how little control you have.”
“You can hold her longer, Bell, while you investigate the organized crime connection,” Gunnar pointed out. “That should buy us some time to figure out how this affects our operations.”
“Agreed.” Bell looked at Katarina with new interest. “Looks like you just became a much more interesting person, Ms. Kozlova. We’re going to have a lot more to talk about. Thanks to our augur friend here, Brighton Beach is about to get very popular with federal agents.”
“Come on,” Gunnar said to Bryn. “Let’s get you back to headquarters. You look like hell.”
“Feel like it too,” Bryn admitted, getting to his feet. The room only swayed a little this time, which he counted as progress. He took a last glance at Katarina as they left but her face was blank and emotionless. Her eyes cold.
Bell walked them to the elevator. “I have to admit, that was impressive work. Even if it left our boy here looking like he went ten rounds with a heavyweight.”
“Occupational hazard,” Bryn said, managing a weak grin.
“Though usually the headaches aren’t quite this spectacular.
That woman has some serious emotional baggage.
Her intent was utterly focused. She wants an opportunity to get Russo alone, which might explain why she went to see Peregrine Frost, and she wants Russo to know he’s dying. ”
“What a charmer,” Bell said. “I’ll keep you posted on what we dig up about the Kozlov connection. This could be the break we’ve been looking for.”
“If Kozlov is willing to send his own niece after Russo, this is personal for him. Family revenge is the most dangerous kind,” Gunnar said.
“When do Russian mobsters ever play games?” Bell hit the elevator call button.
The elevator arrived with a soft ding, and Bryn collapsed against the back wall after he and Gunnar stepped inside.
“Seriously, though,” Bell continued as the doors started to close, “good work, Bryn. Even if you do look like you need a week at a spa.”
“Sounds amazing,” Bryn mumbled.
“That was one hell of a reading,” Gunnar said as the elevator descended.
“Yeah, well, remind me to charge extra next time someone wants me to dive into the mind of a vengeful Russian,” Bryn said. “Some memories are not worth the price of admission.”
The ride back to GCR headquarters started in comfortable silence, Bryn slumped in the passenger seat with his head back and eyes closed. He sensed Gunnar’s concerned glances every few seconds.
“Stop it,” Bryn said without opening his eyes.
“Stop what?”
“The mother hen routine. I can hear you fretting from here.”
“That reading took a lot out of you. More than usual.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You could barely stand up straight back there.”
Bryn cracked one eye open to glare at him. “I walked out of there under my own power, didn’t I?”
“Just about, and you’re still white as chalk.”
“It’s winter in Boston. Everyone’s pale.” Bryn shifted in his seat, wincing at the movement. “Besides, you’ve seen me after difficult readings before.”
“Not like this one. Her emotions were that intense?”
“Grief and rage make for a potent combination,” Bryn admitted. “Plus the whole cold, calculated murder thing. It was like reading someone who’s simultaneously on fire and made of ice.”
“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off.”
Bryn’s opened his other eye. “Absolutely not.”
“Bryn…”
“Don’t ‘Bryn’ me. I said I’m fine.”
“And I’m saying you’re not.” Gunnar’s voice had that stubborn edge that Bryn knew meant he was digging his heels in. “When’s the last time a reading left you looking like you went three rounds with a prizefighter? Even Bell commented on it. Twice.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, wolf boy.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. I’m devastatingly handsome even when I’m suffering from post-read trauma. It’s a gift.”
Gunnar made an exasperated sound. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re being overprotective. Again.” Bryn turned to face him, ignoring the way the movement made his head throb. “I appreciate the concern, really, but I don’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool every time I do my job.”
“Your job doesn’t usually involve diving into the minds of homicidal Russian crime family members.”
“My job involves diving into the minds of all sorts of unpleasant people. It’s literally what I do.”
“This was different and you know it.”
Bryn was quiet for a moment, considering. “Yeah, okay, it was different. Her intent was…vivid. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to keel over.”
“The headache?”
“Will pass. It always does.”
Gunnar pulled up to a red light and turned to look at him. “Promise me you’ll rest when we get back. No more file reading, no more research projects with Emmett.”
“I can’t promise that. We still have work to do.”
Gunnar growled.
“What? The world doesn’t stop turning because my head hurts.”
“Your head doesn’t just hurt. You look like someone took a sledgehammer to your skull.”
“You really need to work on your pillow talk,” Bryn said. “Although I have to admit, the whole protective alpha wolf thing does have its appeal.”
Gunnar’s ears flushed a becoming shade of pink. “This isn’t about…that’s not what this is.”
“Isn’t it?” Bryn leaned back in his seat with a satisfied smirk. “Face it, wolfie, you like taking care of me.”
“That’s not why I’m…” Gunnar stopped, seeming to realize he was being baited. “You’re changing the subject.”
“I’m pointing out that your protective instincts are showing. Which is sweet, by the way, even if it is completely unnecessary.”
The light turned green and Gunnar accelerated, his jaw set in that way that meant he was trying not to say something he’d probably regret.
“Look,” Bryn said. “I get it. Seeing me in pain bothers you. But it comes with the territory, and I need you to trust that I know my own limits.”
“Do you, though?”
“Excuse me?”
“Know your limits, because from where I’m sitting, you have a tendency to push through things that would sideline most people.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
“It is when it puts you at risk.”
“Everything we do puts us at risk. That’s the job.”
“This is different.”
“How?”
“Because…” Gunnar struggled for the words. “Because I can’t protect you from what happens inside your own head.”
And there it was. The real issue, laid bare between them. Bryn studied Gunnar’s profile, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his knuckles were white where he gripped the steering wheel.
“Hey,” he said. “Look at me.” Gunnar glanced over, and Bryn was struck by the genuine worry in his eyes. “I’m okay,” Bryn said. “Really. Yes, that reading was rough. Yes, my head feels like it’s been used as a soccer ball. But I’m okay, and I’m going to stay okay.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No, I can’t. But I can promise that I’m not going to take stupid risks to prove a point.” Bryn reached over and squeezed Gunnar’s arm. “And I can promise that if I ever feel like I’m in over my head, I’ll tell you.”
Gunnar’s expression remained skeptical.
“I will,” Bryn insisted. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
“Sorry. How about scout’s honor instead? But I appreciate that you worry about me. Even if you do go a little overboard sometimes.”
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot. Like walk the plank and do a bit of keelhauling a lot. But it comes from a good place, and that means something.”
They pulled up in the alley at the back of the GCR building.
Someone would be out to take their vehicle to the GCR’s garaging so they left it where it was.
Gunnar punched in the access code at the security panel on the gate.
“Come on, smart ass. Let’s get you inside before you collapse on the sidewalk. ”
“I’m not going to…” Bryn started to protest, then caught the look on Gunnar’s face. “Fine. But I’m not going straight to bed like an invalid.”
“Okay, but you’re taking those pain killers as soon as we get upstairs.”
“Deal.”
“You know, if the Kozlov family is actively hunting Russo, it means the game has changed,” Gunnar said as they headed into the building.
“Yeah, and not for the better. That thought is not helping my headache any, by the way.”
Gunnar grunted. “Think I might be getting one too.”