17. Roman
Roman
Yegor.
Yegor knew.
This whole fucking time.
Yegor is the one who informed me about the job to protect Tate, taking him under my wing here at Crimson.
So Yegor had to have known that the Malettis were after Tate.
Growing up around bad people means that you learn to never see a coincidence as purely random. There is always a reason. A common denominator.
The only link that we had to Tate Landrey was through Luke Landrey.
And the only link that Luke Landrey had to us… was through a mutual friend with Yegor.
I made the mistake of trusting that the job was clean. But Yegor must have lied to me, and to Tate’s brother, too.
How the fuck… how could any of this have happened?
I’m walking back upstairs before I realize my feet are taking me there. I slide open my safe drawer and pull out a second gun, another knife, and a length of rope, shoving a different weapon into each of my pockets, and a knife into my boot.
When I get back downstairs Tate is surrounded by the rest of the guys.
My heart squeezes in my chest.
He is safe. Here. At least for this moment.
But if I don’t do what needs to be done, he will never be safe again, for the rest of his life.
“Tate,” I tell him. “Can I speak to you? Alone?”
He gets up from the sofa, following me down the hall toward the kitchen. I stand beside the long table, taking both of his arms in my hands.
“Is this where you tell me the job is no longer worth the money?” he asks, puffing out a feeble laugh.
“Never. No job has ever been more worth it.” He nods, but I can tell he isn’t convinced. “I don’t know what it would take to convince you that you aren’t a burden, but if it takes me dying for you, I will gladly do it.”
“What? You can’t die. No one can even fucking touch you.”
“Usually, that is true. But if people in my family are leading the Malettis right to me, again, then I don’t know how deep the loyalties run. Yegor tells me that he hates them. Sends me photos of their blood. But I think it’s all a show. A show he’s been putting on for all of us, fuck—”
Tate tilts his head up and crushes his lips to mine, over and over and over again. “You can’t die,” he murmurs against my lips. “It isn’t possible. You’re fucking immortal.”
Nothing has ever been less true.
I’m not afraid of my own death, but that doesn’t make me immortal.
“Listen to me, Tate. I need to go to Yegor. And you will not come with me.”
His eyes dance over my face. “When?”
“Now.”
“Fuck.”
“You will stay here with Hunter and Rayne. Hunter can protect you, and you will be safe in this house tonight. But you cannot come with me to see Yegor. It’s what he wants. It’s what he’s been planning on.”
“I’m coming with you anyway.”
“You are not.”
He glares at me, something burning behind his eyes. “You think you’re going to stop me?”
“Yes, I do. Hunter is actually someone I know I can trust, and he won’t let you slip away alone. Trust me on this.”
“Nothing will fucking matter to me anymore if you get hurt.”
“You cannot see this side of me,” I tell him firmly.
I’m so keenly aware of every weapon on my body right now.
I’m aware that Yegor will have just as many.
And if he has company at his house, nothing will be safe.
But Tate’s eyes hold a vast emptiness that nearly breaks my heart.
“You think I’ll never be able to handle seeing the different sides of you, Roman,” he says softly. “But I’ve already seen them. I already know you, even if you think you’re so good at hiding yourself—”
“Beauty,” I whisper, my voice low, “please don’t…”
“And I’m not afraid,” Tate finally says. “I’m scared shitless of the freak who’s threatening me, and my life in general, but I’m not afraid of you. The real you. I haven’t feared you since the moment you told me the truth.”
I shake my head. “You will understand one day why you should be afraid to want me.”
I pull him into a hungry kiss, and something about it feels final.
I may not die tonight.
It’s unlikely, but still. No matter what happens, I know that I can’t pull Tate any deeper into this world.
If he is saying he wants me… not my cock, but me…
And if he is falling for me?
Then I have failed. Failed in my duty to protect him. He can never be truly safe with someone who comes from a family like mine, and I will never put him through that pain.
Because I need to keep you around, beauty.
Living.
A luxury some people I’ve loved didn’t get to keep.
Maks takes out his Makarov in the passenger seat, loading it and stuffing it back into his pocket.
The high-beams of my car illuminate the small portion of the forested road ahead of us, as we soar down the winding lanes toward Yegor.
I know I am driving too fast. But I don’t stop.
The sky is inky black overhead, a moonless night, and every raincloud has passed, leaving the air humid but clear.
“We need to be ready for the worst,” Maks tells me in Russian.
“I always am.”
“Mm. Are you… are you thinking of him?”
I know immediately that Maks means Tate, not Yegor.
“Yes.”
“He is safe, with Hunter. You’ve told me what Hunter is capable of.”
“Safe with Hunter, right now, yes. Safe with how he wants me… no.”
I can feel Maks staring at me from the passenger seat, but I keep my eyes on the road ahead, and I don’t glance over at him.
“You cannot control everything,” Maks eventually says. “Even the things you think you can.”
“When it comes to protecting him, I can control everything I fucking want. I will never let him into this life, Maks.”
“You already have.”
“Shut your mouth,” I tell him, my words coming out in English.
“Then face the fucking truth. You can’t block yourself from the world because you were born with our last name.”
“I’ve been doing it my whole life. I assure you, I can.”
“You are so fucking lucky to have someone like Tate who wants you,” Maks tells me, and when I finally do glance over at him, I see pure rage in his eyes. “You don’t know how much some people want that. How much I want that, from someone as good as Tate.”
“Stop talking about him. We are close to Yegor’s house.”
“I know exactly where we fucking are.”
“You want it to be like this?” I ask him. “Our last conversation before we may be massacred, we fight?”
“If I am going to be killed, I will be happy knowing my last words were telling the cousin I love the truth.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
My chest is as tight as a drum.
I can see the turn-off onto Yegor’s property up ahead, and I bite down so hard on my cheek I taste blood.
I pull the vehicle into the long gravel driveway, cutting the headlights the moment we pull up outside Yegor’s house.
“Look. The cars.”
Maks nods as we look over and see that there are three other vehicles pulled up on the side of the driveway.
Yegor does have company.
“Did we need to bring more people?” Maks murmurs. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t like it either. But we’re here. Yegor’s already seen our arrival on his cameras.”
I cut the engine and its roar dissipates into silence.
We get out of the car, our boots crunching softly on the gravel as we step toward the front door of the house.
I check for shadows behind every tree. Yegor’s property is well lit, though, with tiny glowing lamps dotted all along the walkway and under the trees. There could be men circling the perimeter, but I see nothing as we walk up to the front.
Lights are on inside. I step up to the front door and knock three times.
Gun in the left pocket, and in the back right.
Three knives.
And the rope.
The front door swings open and Yegor is there, holding a cocktail glass in one hand with a cigar between his lips.
His eyes widen as he nods at me.
“Roman! Maks! What a pleasure. What brings you here?”
I can hear jazz music playing in the house and the sound of chatter. There are multiple guys inside, but I can’t see who.
Yegor clearly wasn’t expecting us. He goes in for a hug, for me and then for Maks, and invites us inside.
My heart is slamming in my chest. I have no clue how much Yegor knows. Is he aware of the information we’ve found yet? Are we walking into a trap, or are we setting one?
“We were in the area,” Maks tells him.
I remain silent.
Observing.
I need to focus on every small detail.
“Come, come. I have a few friends over.”
Yegor leads us down a couple of shallow steps into the lower area of his front living room. Tall windows look out over the stately forested backyard, and the fireplace is roaring in the center of the wall.
There are three men and one woman sitting around the large, low table in the center of the room. Cards and chips litter the table, and everyone has a drink and a cigar.
I check their faces quickly.
Not Malettis.
Unless they’re new hires or low-level grunts, I don’t recognize them. But when my eyes land on the third guy, next to the woman, my heart skips a beat.
It’s him.
Lucian Farina.
Sitting there, wearing a cream-colored suit with a deep, blood-red tie.
All of them glance up at me as I step down into the area, and Lucian’s eyes linger on me, but he’s careful not to stare for too long.
He has no clue that I already know who he is.
What he’s been doing.
What he’s been saying to my beauty.
“Guys, these are my cousins, Roman and Maks. I’m sure I’ve talked about them,” Yegor says, then introduces each of them to us individually.
There’s Lucian. The girl next to him is his date, Nicole. The two other guys are Benny and a man he introduces as Tackle, which I assume is a nickname he got because he looks like a slab of muscle.
Still not quite as tall as me.
Not as thick, either.
Benny’s eyes are bloodshot, and I notice remnants of white powder on the table in front of his spot. All of them have been drinking, and the air reeks of cigar and Amaretto liqueur.
“Sit, sit,” Yegor says. “You want in on the next round?”
“Maybe the one after next,” I say, speaking for the first time since walking in. “Yegor, we need a word. In the backyard.”
He gives us a wide, painted-on smile, nodding and stubbing his cigar out in the ashtray below him.
“Of course, of course, gentleman. Guys, you’ll be entertained in here while I go chat with my cousins for a moment?”