Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WREN
“Tell me how you knew.” Sire aims his car south on the interstate, but he keeps glancing at me, grinning.
It’s not fair. He’s so hella hot, love dances in my veins.
But I know he feels this, too—this ominous fear. Sometimes, we’re so in love, so wrapped up in each other’s arms, we forget the danger we’re in.
Until it comes slithering into our lives.
Still, Sire distracts me. I guess it’s to protect me, and it works. For a minute. He won’t stop luring me with that pussy-purring smirk.
“What?” I huff brightly. “I’m not telling you how I know when you’re lying. I’m not playing all my cards mere months into our marriage.”
“You overheard us?”
“No.”
“You spotted Viktor before you left?”
“Nope.”
The coral sunset ignites the sky outside my passenger window. Sire takes the next exit, turning onto a remote Georgia highway. All I see is rolling farmland.
“Where are we going?”
“Tell me how you knew first.” His warm hand caresses my bare thigh. This sundress is demure; that’s desirable to him. “Deal or no deal.”
Keenly, I study him. Drawn to his visage: my charismatic, consecrated, chameleon killer.
Sire has changed out of his dark grey pastor’s suit, and no one should also look that potent in a plain white T-shirt … but he does.
I want to lick the ink off his neck, kiss the tattoos on his face, unzip his faded jeans, and suck his beautiful, big cock while he drives. He smirks behind his sunglasses, knowing it.
“Okay, fine,” I sigh lovingly. “You smile when you lie.”
“No, I don’t.”
I laugh. “You’re smiling right now.”
“Fuck.” It falls from his face. “I’m that obvious?”
“Only to me, and that’s how I knew shit was up. And I heard what Viktor said, so tell me. Where are we going, and will you do it? Save your father’s life in exchange for Axel’s son?”
His nostrils flare with murder on his mind. “We’re visiting some friends who’ll eliminate the first threat to my nephew.”
“Who and who?”
“The killer cousins I told you about, and Viktor. Any man who threatens to kill his own grandson needs to die.”
I turn in my seat, my pulse racing. “Yes to the last part, but no to you doing it with the killer cousins. Wilder’s a few pickles short of a barrel; he’s nuts. And the other one?”
“Remi,” he supplies.
“Yeah, Remi. He looks like he’d steal the nickels off a dead man’s eyes.”
“If the man pissed him off.”
“And you trust them?”
He takes a left turn. “I trust if I pay them to do something, they will. And I’ll help them. Besides, Wilder and I go way back. We were in juvie together.”
“Yeah, he said you shanked him.”
“Just a little.” Sire grins. “And he never stole my cherry cobbler again.”
I shake my head. Sometimes, Sire’s so godly, and other times, he’s so street. It’s sexy, but not now.
It’s dangerous. Fatally dangerous. My instinct keeps telling me. Dolly Parton. Butterflies. God. The sky. I don’t know where it comes from, but I trust this inner voice.
Sire will die. Stop him.
I try to use reason. “So, where are we going? Wilder’s halfway house?”
“No.” He looks dead serious. “We’re going to the cousins’ brewery. The clock’s ticking. Viktor’s here, on my father’s yacht in Savannah, but we’ll make sure he doesn’t make it back to Moscow.”
Sire’s so calm when all hell breaks loose. I bet he’s as calculated as his father; he’s his worst threat. He knows his father’s next move.
But what breaks my heart is … Sire’s soul is dying because his father is winning. He has Sire’s nephew, Axel’s son.
I heard Viktor confirm it today. He said it was a choice: Sire’s son or Axel’s.
Though it broke their hearts, I believe my birth parents gave me away for a loving reason. They couldn’t take care of me, so they left me in God’s safe hands.
But Sire or Axel would never give their child away. No, it’s the opposite. They’d kill to keep their child.
How was it ever a choice for Sire?
It wasn’t.
“So, you’re going to kill Viktor? Won’t your father retaliate?”
“Viktor’s replaceable. I’m not. It sends a message to my father and Katya. Vengeance for what they did to Axel. They took his son, so I’ll take Viktor.”
“That’s brutal.”
He glances at me. “That’s our family.”
It leaves me silent until we step out of the car in the parking lot outside the brewery. String lights glow. The warm, wooden barn with its large windows and red metal roof beckons you inside. Even the black iron sign, lit by flickering gas lamps, reading “DEAD GOOD brEW,” doesn’t scare me.
But this does…
“Sire, don’t.” I grab his hand, sudden tears spilling down my cheeks. “Don’t do this. God. Dolly. I don’t know, but something is telling me to stop you. Like something bad’s going to happen, and I always trust my instinct.”
“Angel,” he cups my wet cheek, “I’ll never lie to you. Yes, something bad will happen, and I’m sorry it upsets you, but that’s the life I was born into. Just know, I’m trying to get us out.”
“But don’t do this. Don’t go on that boat.”
“Viktor needs to die. Axel’s son isn’t safe with him around.”
“Okay. I want to protect the child, too, but let the cousins do it. You stay here.” I plead to his indigo eyes, this fear suffocating my cry, “Don’t leave me.”
He softens. He only does it with me. Pulling me closer, he nuzzles his forehead to mine. “I’m never leaving you, Angel.”
“But you will,” I swear. I feel. I know. “I can sense it. I’m going to lose you.”
Gently, he kisses me, our lips salted by my tears. “It’s your childhood wound, Angel.” He murmurs, “You were abandoned so many times, and now you fear you’ll lose me. It’s normal and never going to happen. I’m yours forever. My family is yours, too.”
I shake my head. It doesn’t feel true. “You can’t promise that. Things change. People change. What if I lose you? I’ll want to die, and I will. They’ll kill me when they find out that I knew about Axel’s son and didn’t tell them. Axel will hate me. Your mom will hate me.”
He searches my eyes. Sire can see your soul, and he softly smiles. “They’ll never hurt you or hate you. Hate resides in an evil heart, like in my father, but not in my family. They love my wife almost as much as I do.”
I blink back tears. “But your brothers? You said you’re all brutal.”
“We are. We kill for a cause, but we don’t hate. We won’t be like our father.”
“So, they’ll forgive you? About Axel’s son?”
His eyes glance to the night sky, to heaven above. “I’ll die trying for their forgiveness.”
I grab his shirt. “Sire, don’t say that.”
“It’s a figure of speech.” He cradles my head to his chest, kissing my hair. With a deep, resigned sigh, he vows, “Okay. I’ll hire the cousins to get rid of Viktor, but I won’t go. I’ll stay here with you.”
“Promise?” I exhale, snotting his shirt.
“Yeah, because it feels like it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
He pulls back, lifting my chin with his half-pinky. “You don’t trust that my brothers will always love you. That you’re ours forever, no matter what. So, it’s time we initiate you. I want you to feel it. To believe it. I think you’re ready.”
The flip in my heart is instant. This feels true. Right. Destined. Dolly-approved and written in the twinkling stars above. I’m suddenly safe … and seduced.
“You’ll really let them, uh … initiate me?”
He lowers his brow. “I’ll let them bond with you.”
“Bond? But, I thought we fu—”
Knowingly, he grins. “You have to feel our bond to believe it.”
“When?” Me and my blurts. They can really fuck up my fucking plans. I shrug, blasé. “I mean…whenever.”
Laughing, he tucks me under his arm, leading me toward the brewery. “Let me take care of business first before I take care of my eager little queen.”
If I could skip jubilantly to the brewery door, I would.
“What’ll you have? I got a zero-carb seltzer the ladies like.”
“Well…” I tap my lips, asking the bartender, “I ain’t a lady, so what would a Glock-carrying wife drink? One who’s underage?”
He winks, impressed. “You’ll like our Dead Russian Stout.”
Sire mutters in his brew, “I heard that.”
The bartender’s name is Bishop. He’s one of the crazy, killer cousins who turns around … and with those broad shoulders and those jeans and that ass? I watch him pull pints and pussy. Holy beer hops, he’s hot. Every woman at the bar is drooling.
For Bishop. For Wilder. For Remi.
Catnip must be in their brew.
“Yeah, give her the high-test stuff.” Wilder sits beside me on a barstool, crowing, “Let’s put some hair on her pretty little chest.”
“Say another word about my wife’s pretty little chest.” Sire, perched beside me, doesn’t even need to look at Wilder. His sarcastic tone tolls with a lethal threat.
“Damn, little Disney princess.” Wilder elbows me, muttering his drawl, “Someone’s sounding all shanky again.”
Does the young Brad Pitt know he has a redneck twin? Wilder Pitt. Is that his full name?
“Just take the job,” Sire insists, wrapping his arm around me. “You got twenty-four hours before he sets sail.”
Bishop sets a full glass in front of me. I glance at his big hands. You know what they say about men with long fingers.
“And if someone asks?” Big Bishop probes, “Like your brothers? Like Jace? He’s in here all the time.”
Sire shrugs. “It was anonymous. As usual.”
“How many?” Remi, a man of few words, hovers behind us. He makes me anxious. And aroused. Remi glares like he just got sprung from prison, where he served time for the illegal distribution of female orgasms.
“Have fun.” Sire takes another sip. “Get as many as you want. I’m only after one.”
“I don’t know.” Wilder spins a cardboard coaster. “Lately, I’m bored. I need motive, not money for murder.”
Bishop cuts him a look, venting low, “Hey, dumbass. Karaoke starts in thirty minutes. Turn off the microphone in front of your fucking teeth until then.”
I perk up. “Karaoke?”
“Oh shit,” Sire mutters.
Bishop grins at my excitement. “You a fan?”
“Yeah,” Sire answers for me. “But you won’t be. Not once she’s done.”
“Uh!” I backhand his arm. “I’m a karaoke champ. I don’t even need the words on the screen.”
Sire pulls me in for a kiss. “Yeah, Angel. Lyrics? Who needs ‘em?”
I mutter over his luscious lips. “When will you initiate me?”
His lips find my ear. “We’ll bond with you, and I’m thinking in Atlanta. Tomorrow night.”
I’m not thinking at all.
Shivering with delight, I tune out his conversation with the cousins. How can I pick a song from the karaoke menu when I can only imagine what my test will be?
After our night on the superyacht with The Six and Nash and Axel, it’s like Sire wanted me to himself again, and honestly, I liked it.
I’ll always cherish it.
It’s our normal: me and Sire, cuddling in bed after hot sex. I rest my head on his inked chest while he plays with my curls, and we muse about our kids’ names one day.
I love our quaint life. It’s all baking, music, church, and tactical training.
Sire hides guns everywhere and takes me target shooting once a week. Every Tuesday night, Jace and Grant teach me and Delphine Krav Maga. Sire says he can’t hurt me, so he lets his brothers try.
Poor Jace, I really kicked him in the dick last week. Jokingly, I offered to kiss it and make it better. I thought Jace was joking when he replied, “Next time.”
I guess he wasn’t joking.
Finally, the karaoke begins, and I’m third to go. Belting Madonna’s “Like A Virgin,” I’m seducing my husband.
He sits at the bar, a proud lion hungrily grinning at his intended mate. My lure, irresistible. My voice, a siren’s song. Or so I assume, until I’m done and Sire’s pulling me into his lap with a laughing kiss.
Wilder sits beside us, looking bewildered at our mating ritual. “Hey, uh, Princess Jasmine?” An unlit cigarette hangs from Wilder’s lips. “You know what a virgin is, right?”
“Sure do. I was a horny virgin until an hour after I married Sire; right there, in front of his church’s altar.” I toast my beer. “Bye-bye, hymen.”
Behind me, Remi snorts into his mug. Sire laughs into my hair, squeezing me tighter.
But Wilder continues, “Yeah, well, you know, virgins aren’t touched for the thirty-first time in that song. They’re touched for the very first time, in fucking and that song.”
My blush is instant. I hear my mistaken lyrics and how I crooned them to the entire crowd, probably thirty-one times.
In a huff, I turn to Sire. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His brows shoot up. “Because you’re packin’ heat, and no one comes between you and Dolly and your songs.”
Wilder laughs, jumping off his stool. “I’ll take the damn job for free if she gets up there and sings again.”
Do I like the crazy hot cousins? Yes. I like their beer and karaoke, too.
Do I trust them to take care of a deadly threat to our family? Okay, I know when I’m in the presence of killers.
But still.
If they eliminate Viktor, it means an even greater threat will come for us.
It’ll summon the Devil.
Sire’s father.