Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,8
that doesn’t have the word bastard associated with it.”
Like a fool not in fear for his life, T steps up to me until we stand chest to chest. “Do all the Popov men go on parent-hating rants when they’re scared? Or just the parentless motherfuckers like you, Trey?” He spits out my name as if it’s vomit. “You’re so pathetic, when you buried your father, I bet you bought up all the plots around him for his many whores, unsure which one was your mother—”
His words are replaced by garbles when I shut him up with my knife.
As T tilts my way, his footing as unsteady as Eight’s grab for his gun, I raise my knife another four inches up his gut to ensure the tip pierces one of the valves around his heart.
Bullets halo my head, but I can’t see anyone but T. Although, if I am being honest, I’m not really seeing him either. I’m standing across from Achim, knifing him as I wish I’d done years ago.
“I asked you politely. I told you to step back. You didn’t listen. You never fucking listen.” My last four words are roars from my past coming back to haunt me. “You wanted the castle, I gave you the entire fucking kingdom, but it still wasn’t enough for you, was it?” I remove my knife before jabbing it back in more forcefully, untrusting of his still chest.
I made a mistake once believing someone was dead when they weren’t.
I won’t make the same mistake twice.
I only return from the darkness of my past when Eight steps in front of me. “Grab his shoulders. We’ll dump them later. Your ploy worked. While we occupied the front, Nero got Roman out the back entrance.”
With sirens wailing and my mind still a little lost on what the hell just happened, I help Eight place T into the back of my Shelby along with one of his gang-popping pals. I don’t know how Eight took down the second member of Alexei’s crew, but if the blood splatter of his face is anything to go by, it was violent.
“How many casualties?”
“Just these two. Nero’s group cleaned up the rest.” Eight curls T’s legs so they can fit into my trunk before jerking his head to the rotating hospital doors. “Two sought shelter in the hospital.” He lifts and locks his grassy-green eyes with mine. “They won’t talk, but if they do—”
“Nero will take care of it.”
Eight smirks, winks, then slams down the trunk. “Come on, Nikolai is en route to the compound. Things are about to get heated.”
After gathering up the nine or so shell casings coating the ground, I slip into the driver’s seat of my car. With Eight’s legs longer than mine, it takes him longer to join me. I’ve only just cranked over the engine when I see the clean-up crew arriving in my rearview mirror. Most of T’s blood was soaked-up by my shirt, but they’ll ensure not a droplet will be found by the CSI team I hear racing to the scene.
When we glide past lit-up police cruisers racing in the direction opposite to the way we’re fleeing, Eight slumps low in his seat. He’s so tall, his attempt to hide makes laughter rumble in my chest.
If he sinks any lower, he’ll be eating his cock.
Hearing my laugh, Eight socks me in the arm. “Laugh while you can, Trey. You may lose the ability by the end of the week.”
I push off his worry with a laugh. “Pfft. Whatever. You said Nikolai wanted Roman no matter the cost. I got him for him. Might’ve lost two soldiers in the process, but those are the casualties of war.”
My voice waivers when Eight interrupts, “Holy fucking shit. You don’t know who T was, do you?”
“A low-ranked wannabe gangster—”
“Whose father doesn’t care he was birthed by a whore. He loves his sons all the same.”
As my throat works hard to swallow, my eyes stray from the road to Eight. “What the fuck are you on about, August?” The fact I used his real name reveals the urgency of the situation. I’m at a complete loss as to who he’s referencing.
Eight sits up straighter before twisting his torso to face me. “T is Tristan Vasiliev. Alexei’s son. Fuck, man. I thought you knew. Why do you think I’m missing numero uno number one?” Although he’s asking a question, he doesn’t wait for me to respond. “I beat up his son in a paid fight, yet I