Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
THORA
The drive back to the farm passes in a blur, every thought circling back to him.
His eyes on me, the way he touched me, especially that line he tossed out.
Wouldn’t want you dying before I’m done with you.
My grip stiffens on the wheel. What did that even mean?
A smile tugs at my lips.
Okay, this is bad. Really bad. I can’t even stop smiling.
How am I going to hide this from my family? I’m seriously the worst when it comes to doing anything without it showing up on my face. If anyone finds out that I’m even talking to Anton, they’re going to be furious.
By the time I pull up to the farm, I’m still replaying every second of my interaction with him. So, basically, I’m hopeless.
Before I get out of the car, I give myself a quick pep talk about staying focused, then make my way toward the petting zoo as the familiar bleating of goats and sheep grows louder.
“Hello there, Zoe.” I stroke my favorite goat.
But my thoughts wander back to him on that bike. To his strong, square jaw and the hollows beneath his cheekbones.
God.
I swallow as desire unfurls in my gut, the image taking a far more erotic turn. Us on his bike, me bent over it, him behind me, my hair twisting in his grasp as he—
“What’s gotten into you?”
I jump, spinning around to find Greer standing there, arms crossed, one brow raised.
“What?” I press a palm to my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
She doesn’t move, simply studying me.
“Nah. That’s not it.” Her gaze narrows. “You’re smiling weirdly and have been staring off into space for the last thirty seconds.”
I fling my brown hair over my shoulder. “I have not.”
“Thora.” She lifts her chin.
“What?”
“Is it a guy?” Her lips quirk.
A laugh slips out too fast. “What? No. Of course not. I was just thinking about the…new horse.”
Anton’s sort of like a stallion. Where’s the lie in that?
Greer tilts her head, not buying a single word. “Uh-huh.”
I turn away before she can keep digging into my brain, bending down to scratch behind one of the other goats’ ears.
“Okay,” she says from behind me, drawing the word out. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”
Damn it.
When I glance back, she’s still watching me for another second before she pivots.
“All right, I’ve got work to do. Don’t get into any trouble.” A few steps away, she pauses and peers over her shoulder. “You know, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you did meet someone.”
Yeah, it would. If you knew who.
“Maybe one day,” I say instead, brushing my hands on my jeans. “Same goes for you, by the way.”
A snort leaves her. “No men for me.”
“Women, then?”
“Not them, either.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Love you.”
“Right back at you, babe.”
She heads toward the bed-and-breakfast a few yards away, leaving me alone with the animals and the dark thoughts already taking hold. The ones I try not to acknowledge. The ones that come far more often than I would ever admit to my family.
Since that day, I’ve done everything I can to keep the memories buried, but they still surface when I least expect them.
Goose bumps sweep over me as the past surges up, so vivid it drags me back there. I try to push it down, but it only sharpens, forcing me to relive every second. The way I fought. The way he fought back. But I escaped; that’s all that matters.
He can’t hurt me anymore. Because he’s dead now.
ANTON
The engine revs as I weave through traffic toward the meeting with my brothers while Thora Whitlock forces her way into my thoughts the entire ride.
That perfect curve of her mouth. The teasing look in her eyes.
My fingers tighten around the throttle. She’s becoming a problem. Konstantin needs to give the order soon because the longer she stays alive, the more space she takes up in my head.
She’s a nuisance. An irritating distraction. Nothing more.
I gun the engine, forcing every thought of her back as the Marinov Holdings building rises ahead of me.
Soon enough, she’ll be gone, and I won’t have to think about her again.
As soon as I arrive, I make my way to security with my helmet in my grip, and they wave me through without a word.
An elevator is already waiting, its doors sliding closed behind me before it carries me to the top floor.
I stride toward the conference room at the end of the hall, where my three brothers are already waiting.
Konstantin, the pakhan of the family, sits at the head of the table. Aleksei sits to his right while Kirill leans back, probably wondering when he can leave and get home to his son. All three of them look up the second I walk in, offering nothing more than a nod.
I return it and move to the empty chair, dropping my helmet on the table before settling down just as Konstantin speaks.
“Yusef and his men will be here in a few minutes.”
I know how much this meeting means to the family.
Ever since our weapons supply started falling apart, our clients have been disappearing.
The new supplier we brought in to cover the loss still can’t keep up with demand, which has only made things worse.
And while we’ve been dealing with that, the Whitlocks have decided to make their move, poaching our clients and refusing to back down even after the last meeting we had with them.
They’re either stupid or they think we’re weak. Either way, they’ve made it clear they won’t stop until our supply issue is resolved—and until then, they’ll keep pushing and taking whatever they can get, no matter what it costs.
Yusef enters with four of his men behind him, the door swinging wide as he steps through first. He removes his sunglasses and throws both arms into the air.
“Friends,” he says, his Russian accent thick. “How good it is to see you.”
“Yusef, welcome.” Konstantin rises, and the rest of us follow. “Thank you for making the trip.”
Yusef approaches, his dark eyes sharp beneath thick brows. “For you, of course I make the trip, brother.”
Hands are shaken all around before we take our seats again. His men stay where they are, posted behind him without a word.
Konstantin leans forward. “We wanted to let you know how much we appreciate your business, and that you will have your full supply within the next few weeks. A partial shipment will arrive tomorrow.”
A half-grin pulls at Yusef’s mouth, but it doesn’t hold. “I understand you’re having problems, and I sympathize. But I need my supply in full. I’m sure you understand how serious that need is for me. I do not have the ability to wait weeks.”
Of course not. He has his own war coming with his brother.
Konstantin’s mouth tightens before he nods once. “I do understand. But you know my product is the best on the market, and if you give us the patience to—”
Yusef cuts him off with a small lift of his hand. “Look, there is another seller I am considering. I do not want to insult you by working with someone else, but you have left me no choice.”
Konstantin’s fist curls against the table. I know his patience for the Whitlocks is wearing thin, which is good. We need to kill them all.
Aleksei leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Who is it? The Whitlocks?”
We already know the answer, even before Yusef gives it.
Aleksei mutters a Russian curse under his breath. “They’ve been stealing our business. That won’t stand.” His gaze snaps to Konstantin.
“I don’t know what problems you have with the Whitlocks,” Yusef adds. “And I don’t want to get in the middle of that. All I want is my supply. I do not care who it comes from. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Konstantin nods. “We understand. But give us a week. That’s all I’m asking.”
Yusef sighs before a full grin spreads across his face. “Fine, brother. One week. If you have my supply by then, we can continue working together, good?”
Konstantin straightens his back. “Spasebo.” Thank you.
“Konechno,” Yusef replies. Of course.
The meeting wraps up, and we lead Yusef out.
“I’ll call you when the rest arrives,” Konstantin says.
Yusef nods once. “One week.”
Then he’s gone. As soon as they’re far enough away, Konstantin’s nostrils flare, his expression hard as he looks at each one of us.
“We will need another supplier, and quickly, or we’ll start losing more business.”
Aleksei glares. “Are you finally going to let us kill the Whitlocks, or are we going to keep letting them disrespect us over and over again?”
No one answers right away. Kirill leans back in his chair, eyes bouncing from Aleksei to Konstantin.
“We’re going to have one more meeting with them,” Konstantin says. “If it fails, it’s over.”
And I know exactly what that means: Thora dies.