Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,43

our father because he valued the love of his life more than his sons, failing to realize the only people you can pick to be a part of your life are the ones who don’t share your blood.

Blood isn’t always thicker than water.

My placement in Nikolai’s crew is proof of this.

When I rack my knuckles against Nikolai’s office door, his eyes pop up from a heap of paperwork on his desk. His office is fancier than it was when I arrived stateside. It was nothing but shards of glass and twisted metal.

I was too merged in my own nightmare to realize Nikolai was facing just as many demons. Only weeks earlier, he had lost the only man he classed as his brother. Little did he know, his life would go full circle only three short years later.

I’m beginning to wonder if I am about to face the same set of circumstances. A particular sensation is bristling in the air. It is similar to the crackling of energy that zapped through me when I followed India into the butler’s pantry. Greatness was set to happen that night. I just had no clue it would be quickly chased by hatred so black, evilness would thrive off it.

I can only hope today’s sensation ends differently.

When Nikolai arches a brow, prompting me I’m the one interrupting him, not the other way around, I recall the reason for my visit. “We’ve got a problem at Clarks.”

“Handle it,” he replies, more than aware his crew is capable of tackling any dilemma thrown at us.

Although I agree with him, this isn’t something I can do alone. “Can’t.”

Nikolai dumps his pen onto a stack of paperwork before slouching low in his chair. He looks tired. It isn’t just his girl keeping him awake at all hours of the night, though. Vladimir’s fuck-ups will take months to clear away, if not years. He ran a tight ship that amassed a substantial amount of wealth the past fifty-plus years, but his operation was a fucking mess.

With enemies willing to do anything to see his kingdom fall, he was the most hated man in the country. That hate has now been passed to Nikolai. If that doesn’t keep him on his toes, his wish to keep his girl away from additional harm sure will.

“Why can’t you handle it?”

When his question is asked with a ton of jeering, my Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Because we need you... and your girl.” When he straight-up shakes his head, denying my request, I speak faster, “Justine is the only one who can understand these women. They have demands we can’t meet. Unless you want to break your promise to Justine that they’ll remain untouched, we need her help.” I’m low-balling using his girl against him, but when you’re clutching at straws, you better hold on tight. “It’ll take barely a minute. I cross my fucking heart and hope to die.”

My analogy is lost on him, but it does get his ass moving out of his seat. “She is supposed to be resting.”

I smirk at the unease in his tone. Nikolai doesn’t get ruffled about anything, so I’m aware his panic has nothing to do with his girl catching up on sleep and everything to do with him knowing he’ll want her the instant he locks eyes with her. If I’m stopping that from happening, he’s fighting not to kill me as I’d hoped he would have three years ago.

Do I still want to die? If you exclude last night when I hurt K, no, I don’t. Although having her around is doubling my wish to reclaim who I was. I’m living a life most men would cream their pants to experience, yet I don’t believe I’m truly living until my heart thumps in my ears.

K makes that happen.

Why? I have no fucking clue, but I’m eager to find out.

Impatient to make sure Nero kept his word, I nudge my head in the direction Clarks sits. “I’ll meet you at Clarks.”

Although unhappy about my request, Nikolai dips his chin in agreement. I don’t see him being keen to agree to future requests when he discovers the environment I’m about to step his girl into. I’ll risk it, though. It isn’t the first time he’s stuck his neck out for me. Don’t see it being the last.

Twelve

Sales Docket Number 12574

“Calm down. We’re not going to hurt you,” a man I was introduced to last night assures when I grasp the shard of glass so firmly,