Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,65
They need a warrant and don’t even get me started on the number of books I’ll throw at them if they don’t have one.”
I smile right along with Nikolai. Justine’s offer was sweet, but nothing is ever done here with a book. “We’re not being raided by police, Ahren. It’s a rival of ours, unhappy with the consequences of joining a war he didn't belong in.”
Justine’s lack of knowledge about this lifestyle is seen on her face when she asks, “What do you mean? What war?”
When Eight bursts into Clarks, out of breath and with an ashen face, Nikolai signals for his men to move. Eight can’t get a word out since he’s so out of shape, but his facial expression makes it obvious as to what he wants to say. Hell has come knocking.
While Eight struggles to fill his lungs with air, Nikolai continues wooing Justine with straight-up honesty. “Vladimir sought help with your kidnapping. My men couldn't get to Roman without taking down members of their crew. A man lost his son; now he is coming to get answers.”
Well, mostly truthful. I still haven’t given him the full recollection of events that occurred that morning between K and… K. I haven’t had the time. That’s why I can’t let my fuck-up be placed entirely on Nikolai’s shoulders. I messed up, so I should pay the price for my error.
“Let me come, Nikolai. Let me speak to Alexei. He just wants to bury his son.” That was the only term he was interested in negotiating with Vladimir two years ago when his middle son’s switch in enemies resulted in his death.
“No.” Nikolai’s denial snaps out of his mouth like the crack of a whip. After mounting the ATV he arrived at Clarks on, he strays his eyes to mine. “He will kill you, then he’ll bury his son. You were acting on my orders, Trey, so the blame for Tristan's death is on my shoulders, not yours.”
Hearing the unease in Nikolai’s tone as readily as me, Justine begs, “Please don’t go. Please.”
Forever a leader, Nikolai replies, “I have to, Ahren. These are my men. That makes them my responsibility.”
“What about me?” Justine fights back. “I'm your responsibility too. You promised to keep me safe. You can't do that if you’re dead.”
When the sound of gunfire breaks through the eerie silence, Nikolai kicks over his ATV before locking his eyes with mine. “Keep her safe, Trey. That’s your only job. Keep my Ahren safe."
I barely dip my chin half an inch when he yanks back on the throttle.
“Nikolai, please!” I band my arm around Justine’s waist before she can take off after him on foot. “Don’t leave me! I love you!” She kicks, wails, thrusts, and grunts for the next several minutes, her fight only lessening when Nikolai’s ATV disappears into the darkness of the night. “Let me go.” She stabs her nails into my arm like K did when she woke from a nightmare before jabbing the heels of her shoes into my shins. “Nikolai!”
Her frustrated wails are soon echoed by the women in the dormitory. They call out just as loud, and their cries are just as anguish-filled. When I nudge my head to the corridor where their room is located, Eight jerks up his chin, hearing my silent request for him to go check on them. My room is on the other side of the compound, but they’re so loud, they could wake K.
With Eight’s wariness as high as mine, he removes a gun from the back of his jeans when he reaches the opening. When he disappears from view, I set Justine back onto her feet. A florally scent smacks me in the face a mere second before Justine’s fist does. Her gall both frustrates and excites me. Not because I’m a brain-dead idiot who enjoys being hit, it’s because she socked me with the same amount of intensity K did only two days ago. Justine’s hit reveals how strong K is. She may look frail and scrawny, but she’s far from it. Even at her weakest, she gives it her all.
After returning my head front and center where it was before I was punched in the face, I mutter, “I deserve that… and so much more.” My brothers are fighting for my honor while I hide out like a coward. A throbbing jaw isn’t close to what I deserve.
I realize the universe works in mysterious ways when Eight’s grunted request for help sounds through my