Chapter 37 Simona
SIMONA
It was just past five a.m., and I hadn’t slept yet. My favorite cousin. Nyet, my sister. My sister was missing. Had I made a mistake listening to Lachlan’s father when I arrived at The Red Door later than Natasha suggested? I guess not late enough to miss the aftermath of a hostile civil war.
Big Brody’s calm tone, which my father lacked, quelled my usual suspicions. Of course, the cute, calm, and also married one flanked his side.
Keith. No Leith. Da. A shame. He was a good one. Now, glaring at yet another brother, I slurped the final bits of my caramel ribbon crunch frap.
The baby.
What’s his name?
“Wake up, so I can find out,” I muttered.
My protector, Baran, stood arms folded near the bedroom door. Despite his cross expression, he raised an eyebrow, questioning me. I shook my head. Father never repeated himself. Me either.
Father didn’t know, but I never left home without Baran.
He caught my attention again, visions of red dancing in his slitted eyes when they darted toward MacKenzie Number Seven. So innocent.
My eyes narrowed on Baran. A warning.
One last slurp. I climbed from Baby MacKenzie’s computer chair so fast it swiveled. I removed the switchblade from my leather tights, flicked my wrist.
Baran grinned.
I rolled my eyes. Not so fast, priyatel’—buddy.
I ran the silver hilt along Baby MacKenzie’s bare foot.
The soft snores transitioned. A mumbled chuckle.
Really? Wake up already! I turned the knife and pricked, quickly and fast. A minuscule puncture.
The Scot jumped from his pale skin. Jake needed to sit in the sun like his brothers. He clutched the sheets, hiding a six-pack, a pleasant detail that caught my eye.
“What the—what the—Simona Resnov?”
“Nyet. Resnova. I’m a woman, not a man! Now, I’m not a grammar instructor. I’ll ask the questions, Baby MacKenzie.” I wriggled my jaw, and the grit from my tone dissipated. “Your father told me they were taking Natasha to the hospital last night.” My tone remained silky soft. “They lied to me.”
“Where is my brat?” Baran flew from near the door onto the bed. Baby MacKenzie threw a foot, connecting with my guard’s boxy jaw.
As Baran lifted a fist and brought it back, I grabbed his arm. “Stop!”
He stood at ease, hands behind him.
Jake stuttered, “Listen, y-you and Shrek …”
“Shrek? Nyet! He is Baran. His brother, Borya, is missing. Someone framed him.” My tone softened, empathetic. “You have brothers. Wouldn’t that—”
“Missing? Framed? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about! Can’t help you.” He glared at Baran. “Sure as hell don’t know where your brother went.”
“Are you certain, Baby MacKenzie?”
“Please!” He groaned. “My name is Jake. But forget about that. Forget about me. I’ll forget you came here.”
My gaze landed on a photo of the brainiac and a blond in a lab coat.
“Simona, what are you looking—hey, stop. Drop it!” Jake scrambled to his feet. When I turned around, he was close. Too close. With the sharp chink, I splayed my switchblade at his chiseled chest. “You did good. A future doctor. Or is she already a—”
“Don’t.”
“C’mon, Baby MacKenzie. I like you.” Closing the blade, I pocketed it.
“You’re a fellow bookworm.” I snapped a quick pic of the photo of him and Future Doctor, then placed it on the nightstand.
In a few taps, I pretended to send her image via a text.
He’d read enough thrillers to predict my next move.
“Please … please leave my girlfriend out of this,” Jake begged.
The jarring ring of my cell phone filled the air, and his eyes widened in fear.
Da. This made the threat real.
I glanced at the screen and grinned. Father. He’d been ringing me for about an hour. I answered, muttered a few Russian words, and disconnected. I nodded. “They will comfort the doctor while we fix this.”
The color drained from Jake’s face, and his legs failed him. He landed on the edge of his bed, shoved quivering fingers through his dark blond hair. “Please leave us alone.”
“Nyet. You have that cute Scottish accent if I listen hard enough. Polish it up, I might be inclined to release her.” I grabbed a hardback thriller. SS Robinson’s signature and a note were scrawled in a sharp felt pen mark. “Nice.”
Jake jutted his chin to the book. “Take the book. I-It’s yours.”
“I’ve finished the series. Let me explain my reason for this unpremeditated visit.” I crouched in front of him.
“I’m listening—” He muttered, “Delusional lass,” under his breath.
My fingertip reached over. He turned his face sharp. Fast. Fury written all over him. I touched the furrow of his thick brow anyway. I’d wanted to do that while watching him read another SS Robinson psych thriller at the park months ago.
“You called me delusional. I have a question for you, Baby MacKenzie.” I spoke slowly, allowing him to digest my every word. “Will I be delusional if you must bury everyone you love?”