Chapter 14
GABE
Iget back to the hotel hours later. Nika’s asleep, her minor wounds already cleaned and dressed. I change into clothes that don’t stink of blood, fuel, and mud, before slinking down to the hotel bar to debrief.
I’d rather be in bed with my wife. I want to curl myself around her, pull her soft, warm body against my own, breathe her smell.
There was a moment earlier today, when Artyom first attacked, when I thought I lost her.
She was in the trees, running for her life, and one of Artyom’s soldiers was on her tail.
I almost got my head blown off sprinting after her.
I risked everything. One step sideways, one steadier hand aiming a gun at my face, one stupid mistake, and I’d be dead. The smart move would’ve been to hunker down, stay in cover, and wait for my security detail to arrive.
I can’t be Dragon with a bullet in my head.
I went after her anyway. What the fuck was I thinking?
Nika’s beautiful, she’s funny and fascinating, the way she seems to be at war with herself all the damn time.
I love kissing her, teasing her, being around her.
But she’s still only a pair of tits with a big checkbook attached.
I can’t lose sight of what I need from her.
There’s a reason I can’t forget relationships are nothing more than a series of transactions.
I have one goal, and nothing is as important as sitting on that throne.
For a brief moment in those woods though, panic ripping into me, fear like a steady spike in my guts, a feeling I’ve never experienced in my entire life, nothing else mattered but Nika.
That’s fucked and dangerous in a way I can’t abide.
I’m in a bad mood as I sit at the bar and order a vodka. Daniel’s late, but that’s fine. Let him blow off steam however he needs to. I sit hunched over my drink, glaring at the mirror behind the bottles, thinking about how I almost threw it all away for some fucking girl.
When a woman sits to my left.
I don’t recognize her at first, too lost in my own self-pity and anger. Nika’s the only woman I can think about, at least until I finish my vodka and another appears at my elbow.
I frown, looking over. Lucy smiles at me, her chin propped on her fist. “Thought you could use it.”
I flinch back in surprise. I don’t know how the hell I didn’t realize it was her. That’s how fucked I am right now. “Where did you come from?”
“Oh, I’ve been around.” She waves a hand in the air. Lucy’s an athletic woman, dark hair, tan skin, somewhere in her 40s but looks much younger. I’ve never met someone as ruthless and efficient as her, which makes sense. It’s not easy being the right hand of a Dragon.
“Did Mass send you?”
Her smile is enigmatic. “We can’t talk about him.”
I dip my chin grimly and pick up the drink. “Thanks for this at least.” I take a sip and let out a breath. “How’s my sister doing? How’s the island holding up?”
“Allie’s doing good. She’s got the whole compound under her thumb. It’s actually impressive, the way she drags Mass around.” She crosses her legs with a groan and a stretch. “But you know how things are.”
She’s right about that. Better than I like to admit.
Back in the day, before I left for Russia, I spent months on Mass Cardone’s island with him and my sister recovering from a bad wound.
I learned a lot of things in those days, about how the Dragons work, their networks, their weaknesses, and Lucy was a part of all that.
At the time I thought I was being clever, but I suspect she was feeding me information on purpose.
Planting the seeds of the idea that would eventually turn into this nightmare.
“Glad Allie’s doing good at least.”
“Having some trouble landing the big fish?”
“Oh no, it’s going great. Only got ambushed by Artyom earlier today.”
“I saw.”
I turn to her, frowning. “You saw?”
“I’ve been following you around for the last few days.” She says it so casually I almost laugh. Typical Lucy, acting like tailing me is no big deal. I might not be a Dragon, but I have fairly good operational security. Despite what happened earlier.
She opens her phone and starts tapping at a message. I swear, it’s a nervous tic. She’s constantly fixed on that damn screen. I crane over trying to get a look, which earns me an elbow to the ribs.
“If you’re here to pass along a message, let’s get that out of the way.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” The look she gives me is flat and annoyed. “Could you imagine what would happen if Mass were to get caught helping you?”
“The other Dragons would be pissed.”
“Putting it mildly.” She watches me, considering. “But I can give you a little piece of advice. L.A. is littered with old filming locations. Warehouses, industrial space, places which were converted, re-converted, then forgotten. You might find something you need hiding out in one of those.”
My eyebrows raise. I watch her carefully, but she’s nonchalant as she turns back to her phone. My head’s racing though, and if she’s saying what I think she’s saying, it’s an enormous help.
And a sign that Mass is still in my corner.
“I’ve been meaning to shoot a new movie,” I say and take a long drink. “Looking forward to it.”
“I bet you are.” She sits forward and stops tapping. “Three weeks. That’s when the big guys are coming together.”
“I thought there was more time.”
“Sorry to say, but that was bad information. They’re getting impatient. You know how they are.”
“Which means I have to take care of my two problems—“
“As fast as you can.” Lucy sits back and studies me. Her lips press into a thin line. “One more thing.”
“Don’t tell me. You have a truck filled with rocket launchers I can borrow?”
“Your wife. Veronika Kislyov.”
“She took my last name. Nika’s very traditional.”
Lucy’s not smiling. Any trace of humor and familiarity is gone. Now she’s the cold, powerful killer she’s always been.
“Your ascension to the empty Dragon throne is more important than anything else right now. I hope you understand that.”
I tighten my grip on my vodka glass. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I saw what you did. The way you chased after her and almost got yourself killed.” Lucy doesn’t flinch, but her voice does lower. “The girl is disposable.”
Rage flares in my chest. Bile rises in my throat. I fix her with a hard look and struggle to keep my anger in check. “Nika’s my wife.”
Lucy waves a dismissive hand. “Right now, people around you have a tendency to get hurt. Which is fine, you’re playing a dangerous game.
Nobody becomes a Dragon without blood on their hands.
” She draws in close. “But don’t let that hold you back.
Mass nearly lost to Medved because he was too obsessed with Allie to think straight.
It’ll be a shame if you go down the same road. ”
My heart races. I feel myself staggering into the woods. The panic and terror at the thought of losing her, all while knowing it was stupid, it was the wrong decision, and still not being able to stop myself. “Nika is mine.”
“That doesn’t reassure me.”
“You can go fuck yourself then.” I shove back away from the bar and get to my feet. I’m so angry I can barely think clearly. “I’ll win the throne. But I won’t bury my wife under it.”
“Let’s hope so.”
I walk away. I can’t stay a single second longer. If I do, I might say something I’ll regret, because I still need Mass’s support and Lucy’s help, even if they’re doing it from the shadows.
Still, the audacity of these fucking people. Lucy storms in here, drops a few bombs, and casually suggests I should let my wife die to make sure I become a Dragon.
But there’s another voice in the back of my head. A quiet whisper that keeps saying, you know she’s right.
It’s exactly what I was thinking before she showed up.
Hearing the words out loud triggered something in me though. Some long-buried emotion. A feeling I thought I’d managed to scour from my heart.
I don’t like it one fucking bit.
There shouldn’t be any lines I won’t cross and nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice to get what I want. That’s the only way to become a Dragon.
But if I do all that—if I let myself fall that far—what’s left on the other side?
What’s the point of ruling the world if it’s all a smoking crater?
I head back to the room and find Nika in bed.
She’s wrapped under the blankets. I kick off my shoes, strip down to my underclothes, and crawl in beside her.
I tell myself this is fine, we’re married, it’s normal, but she mutters something in her sleep.
Thank God it’s not my name or something sexual, or else I think I’d break.
But she does roll over. Her arms brush against my body as she snuggles up close. I go still, eyes locked on the ceiling. I feel her lips and breathing against my neck. She tightens her grip on me, but her chest still rises and falls steadily, very much asleep.
One of her legs wraps around my waist.
Fuck, this is stupid. Lucy’s right. Nika’s nothing. The girl is a bank account. She’s a body stuffed with money. I don’t need her.
I don’t want her.
But I don’t move and I don’t push her away.