21. Kane
KANE
Priya's cousin's lake house in Poconos ends up being booked full for the Fourth.
I tell Delilah I can fix it, and she fixes me with a glare instead.
"No throwing money at the problem." She wags her finger in my face, cheeks all puffed up. It's frankly adorable. "Let's come up with a creative solution."
"Like what?"
"Like finding a different venue."
We settle on my country estate, because it's convenient, decently close to a less pretty but still functional lake—Lake Sebago—and definitely available.
Lilah still pushes for a weekend in Poconos afterward.
She says new couples need the romance of a getaway.
I tell her we're not new, and we wouldn't be going alone anyway, but she insists this counts as a second honeymoon period and that the presence of friends does not in any way dampen the romance.
We confirm her booking of the lake house from August sixth to August eighth.
On the Fourth, we head out to the estate with enough supplies to grill for an army.
The July sun burns white overhead. I watch Delilah from the deck, where she's explaining to Niko and Yuri how she wants the charcoal arranged in the grill, gesturing with tongs like she's conducting an orchestra.
"Not like that," she says. "You want the coals banked on one side so you have direct and indirect heat zones."
Niko looks at me. I shrug.
"She's the boss," I tell him.
Delilah turns, catching my eye, and smiles in a way that makes me want to pull her close. "Hey, boyfriend. Can you bring me the marinade from the kitchen?"
I hear Stepan choke on his beer behind me.
"Boyfriend, huh?" I repeat, fighting off a smirk.
"I like the sound of it. Don't you?" She's still smiling, but there's a challenge in it. "Or should I go back to calling you Mr. Makov?"
Yuri makes a sound that might be a laugh.
I cross the deck and haul her against me by the waist, kissing her hard enough that she drops the tongs. When I pull back she's flushed and breathing unevenly and looking at me like I just proved a point she was trying to make.
"Marinade's in the fridge," I say against her mouth. "Get it yourself."
"You're the worst boyfriend ever."
"You didn't seem to think so this morning."
Her face goes redder. Niko and Yuri suddenly find the grill very interesting.
"Go," I tell her, releasing her. "Before I embarrass you in front of everyone."
She goes, but not before swatting my arm.
I watch her disappear into the house, then turn to find Niko grinning at me like an idiot.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing, boss." He goes back to arranging coals. "Just nice to see you happy."
I don't argue with him.
The afternoon unfolds in a way I'm not used to.
Priya and Zara arrive with enough food to feed an army.
Stepan sets up speakers and argues with Anton about which playlist to use.
Delilah commandeers the grill and refuses to let anyone else near it, insisting she knows how long each item needs to cook.
She keeps calling me boyfriend.
Every time, it hits differently. Sometimes teasing. Sometimes soft. Always like she's testing the word out, seeing how it fits.
I retaliate by pulling her onto my lap whenever she tries to boss me around in front of my men. By the third time, she's laughing and swatting at me and calling me impossible, and I'm kissing her neck while Niko pretends very hard not to watch.
"You're going to get us kicked out of our own party," she says, breathless.
"It's my house."
"That doesn't mean you get to maul me in front of everyone."
I kiss her again, slower this time, until she makes a soft sound against my mouth and forgets whatever point she was trying to make.
When I finally let her go, she stays there for a moment, warm and solid against me, her hand resting on my chest.
"I like this," she says.
"What?"
"This. You and me. Being normal for a day."
Normal. Like we're just a couple hosting friends instead of what we actually are—a pakhan and the woman he traded ninety-one properties to save.
But I don't correct her. Because for the first time since I found her bakery empty and her phone cracked in the alley, I can almost imagine a version of our lives where keeping her happy is the only thing I have to worry about.
Almost.
Yuri appears at my elbow. "Boss. Can I talk to you?"
Delilah stands immediately, sensing the shift. "I'll go check on the burgers."
She disappears toward the grill. I wait until she's out of earshot before turning to Yuri.
"What?"
He pulls out his phone and shows me a photograph. Two men in a small motorboat on the lake, one of them holding a camera with a telephoto lens aimed directly at the estate.
My stomach drops.
"When?" I ask.
"Five minutes ago. Niko spotted them first. They've been circling for about forty minutes, staying just outside the property line."
I scan the water. The boat's still there, drifting lazily about two hundred yards offshore. Close enough to photograph everyone on the deck.
Close enough to count how many people are here.
"Plates?" I ask.
"Rental from a marina in Lake Skenonto. We're running it now."
I hand the phone back. "Pull everyone inside. Make it look natural."
"You want me to send someone after the boat?"
"No. I don't want them to know we noticed." I glance toward the deck, where Delilah's laughing at something Priya said. "Just get everyone inside and keep them there until those men leave."
Yuri nods and moves away.
I cross to the grill, where Delilah's flipping burgers with the concentration of a surgeon.
"Hey," I say.
She looks up, smiling. "Hey yourself. These are almost done. Can you grab the—"
"We need to move inside."
Her smile fades. "What's wrong?"
I don't lie to her. Not anymore. "There are men in a boat photographing the house."
She goes still, the spatula frozen mid-flip. "What?"
"They've been out there for forty minutes. Niko saw them. Yuri just told me."
"Are they—" She stops. Tries again. "Do you think it's Vetrov?"
"I don't know. But I'm not taking chances."
She sets the spatula down slowly. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah. Let's move everyone inside." She wipes her hands on her apron. "I'll tell Priya it's getting too hot out here."
I watch her cross to Priya and Zara, her voice calm as she suggests they finish cooking in the kitchen where there's air conditioning. Priya agrees immediately, already gathering platters.
Within minutes, everyone's indoors.
Delilah moves through the kitchen organizing food like nothing's wrong, but I see the tension in her shoulders. The way she keeps glancing toward the windows.
She's remembering too.
I find myself standing by the lake-facing window, watching the boat drift. The men are still photographing. Still circling.
"Boss?" Niko appears beside me. "Rental was paid for in cash two days ago. No ID on file. Marina owner said the guy was late thirties, dark hair, spoke with an accent he couldn't place."
"Russian?"
"Maybe. Or Eastern European."
"Pull the security footage from the marina and run it through our database. I want to know who he is by tonight."
"Already on it."
The boat finally moves away, heading back toward the marina. I watch until it disappears from view.
Delilah finds me there ten minutes later.
"Are they gone?" she asks.
"Yeah."
She stands beside me, her arms wrapped around herself. "You told me right away."
"Of course I did."
"You didn't have to. You could've just moved everyone inside and told me later."
"I'm not keeping things from you anymore, Lilah. Not even to protect you."
Lilah nods. "Thank you."
I turn to face her. "We should leave."
"What?"
"Cancel the rest of the day. Send everyone home. Get you somewhere more secure."
"Kane—"
"I don't like not knowing who those men were or who sent them." My jaw tightens. "And I don't like having you exposed while we figure it out."
"Everyone's inside now. They can't photograph us in here."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
I don't answer right away. Because the point is that I'm remembering her deserted bakery. Her cracked phone in the alley. The photograph Vetrov sent me of her bound in a basement.
The point is that I keep imagining every possible way someone could take her from me, and it's making it impossible to focus on anything else.
"Kane." She touches my arm. "Are you angry with me?"
"No."
"Then what? Are you frightened?"
The question hits heavier than it should.
I don't get frightened. I assess threats and eliminate them. I calculate risks and mitigate them. Fear is other people's problem.
But watching Delilah laugh with Priya while men in a boat photographed her felt a lot like fear.
"I hate watching you enjoy yourself while I'm imagining every possible way someone could hurt you," I admit.
She smiles. "I was able to enjoy myself because you were there."
"Lilah—"
"I trust you to keep me safe, Kane. That's why I could relax. Because I knew you'd tell me if something was wrong." She steps closer. "You did tell me. And I'm fine. We're all fine."
"This time."
"Yes. This time." She takes my hand. "And if there's a next time, you'll tell me then too. And we'll deal with it together."
I want to believe her. I want to believe that my protection is enough. That my men are enough. That I can give her a normal life where she gets to have cookouts with friends without me standing watch like a guard dog.
I pull her against me and kiss her hard, trying to communicate everything I can't say out loud.
She kisses me back, her hands fisting in my shirt.
When we finally break apart, she's breathing unevenly and looking at me like she knows precisely what I was trying to tell her.
"Everyone's probably wondering where we went," she says.
"Let them wonder."
"Kane."
"Fine." I release her reluctantly. "Go. I'll be there in a minute."
She hesitates, like she's not sure she should leave me alone. Then she kisses me once more and heads back toward the kitchen.
I stay by the window, watching the lake.
My phone vibrates. Niko, confirming the boat returned to the marina and the driver disappeared before our men could intercept him.
I text back: Keep looking.
Through the doorway, I can hear Delilah laughing at Priya's jokes. The sound makes me ache to join them.
She wants to go to the Poconos next month for the weekend. A whole weekend at Priya's cousin's lake house, where security will be complicated and extraction routes limited.
Unless I find a way to make the trip fall through.
The thought arrives fully formed, cold and practical. A mechanical issue with the rental. A scheduling conflict at the lake house. Something credible enough that she wouldn't question it.
Something that keeps her in the city, where I control the perimeter and know every entry point and have thirty men within a ten-minute radius.
I turn the idea over, examining it from every angle. The execution would be simple. One phone call to Priya's cousin. An apology and a generous payment for the inconvenience and his silence. Delilah would be disappointed the trip fell through, but she'd understand.
She'd believe the lie.
My jaw tightens.
I told her I wouldn't keep things from her anymore. Not even to protect her. I said it minutes ago, standing in this exact spot, and meant it.
But all I can think about are the men in a boat, photographing her while she flipped burgers and laughed with Priya, oblivious to the danger they pose. I keep counting the exits, calculating how many seconds it would take someone to reach her if they came from the water instead of the road.
The Poconos house sits on a lake. Private dock. Three sides exposed to open water. The security assessment I ran yesterday flagged eight separate vulnerabilities.
Eight ways someone could reach her before I stop them.
I don't know who was in that boat. I don't know who sent them or what they wanted or whether they're connected to Vetrov at all.
But I know Delilah wants a week away from the city, and I know I can't give it to her without spending the entire time watching the water and planning extraction routes instead of watching her be happy.
She deserves better than that.
She deserves a boyfriend who can take her on vacation without treating it like a military operation.
But she's with me instead.
So that leaves only one question.
Am I going to keep her safe with a lie—or with the truth?