glad he’s well enough to move and even drink now. I also saw him running with Adrian and the guards during their morning workouts. And yeah, these crazy people actually run in the snow when it’s below zero degrees.
“They’ll survive.” Yan throws up a dismissive hand. “The cold will make men out of them. They’re lucky they weren’t in the Special Forces.”
“Was is that brutal?” I ask.
“Brutal?” Yan scoffs. “Try deadly. Try, we’re the fucking chosen ones for getting out of that training alive. Remember dragging kilos of tires in fucking freezing Siberia, Borya?”
Boris’s stoic face falters for a second as he nods, and even Kolya’s lips twist, probably recalling the same circumstances.
“Seems the cold hasn’t made a man out of you, Yan,” Adrian says with nonchalance, then takes a sip of beer.
“How can you say that, Boss? I was second in my unit.”
Adrian raises a brow. “Not first.”
“Not everyone is a perfectionist freak like you and Kolya.”
I stare at Adrian. Yan told me he was in Special Forces before, but he never mentioned rank. “You were first?”
“Unlike Yan.”
“He’s all bark and no bite,” Kolya agrees with his boss, opening a bottle of beer.
“Oh, fuck you, Kolya.” Yan’s temper rises. “Rank isn’t important, skill is. What do you say, Boris?”
“I was first in my unit, too.” Boris throws a nut into his mouth. “Pay respect.”
“To being first.” Kolya shows a rare smirk and raises his bottle of beer.
My husband and Boris mimic him, drinking while Yan tightens his hold on his bottle, glaring at them before he sighs heavily.
“It seems you’re the only loser here, Yan.” Kolya smiles.
The younger guard flips him off under the table and I can’t help but smile. These men are all ruthless, coming from dangerous backgrounds that allowed them to not only survive Special Forces, but to also excel at it, and although they might be competitive about it, they feel like a family.
A fucked-up one, no doubt, but at the same time, it’s very loyal and protective.
A family I want to belong to.
“I’m going to make you eat your words by the end of tonight, Kolya.” Yan bunches up his sleeves. “There are five of us. How are we going to do this?”
“I’m not playing,” Adrian announces.
“Come on.” I nudge him. “Don’t be a fun-ruiner.”
“If I play, I’ll win every round and ruin your actual fun.”
“He’s right.” Yan rolls his eyes. “Don’t be fooled by the silent façade. Boss is competitive to a fault and makes sure to win at everything.”
“Except shipping you back to the Spetsnaz.” Adrian sips his beer. “Though that can be arranged rather swiftly now that we’re here.”
Yan winces. “You didn’t forget about that?”
“Never. Now, play. I will be the judge.”
Yan clears his throat. “Lia and me against Kolya and Boris.”
“No.” Adrian objects.
“Why not?” I ask.
“It’d be boring. You and Kolya against Boris and Yan would be more entertaining.”
Or more like, he’s doing everything in his power to keep me from pairing up with Yan. But whatever, Adrian will always be Adrian.
“Hold on.” Yan stands up. “Let me get some real drinks.”
I frown, not understanding the meaning behind his words as he disappears in the direction of the kitchen. A minute later, he reappears with a bottle of vodka and glasses.
Boris and Kolya grunt in approval. Right. Of course, beer isn’t a real drink for them.
The three of them definitely fit the stereotype of how much Russians love their vodka. Adrian usually prefers cognac, but he does push the beer out of the way when vodka is in sight.
At first, I’m too much of a wimp to try straight vodka. They don’t even mix it in a cocktail or drink it diluted. However, after Boris delivers a knockout in the first round, I chug down an entire glass to cool off my wounded pride. It burns my throat and I cough a few times, hitting my chest to make it go away.
“Take it easy,” Adrian whispers in my ear, his fingers drawing circles on my shoulder.
“I’m fine.” I point at Boris. “You’re going down. You, too, Yan.”
My friend lifts his chin. “I’m sorry to say this, but you’ll be collateral damage, because Kolya’s destruction is my mission tonight.”
“It’s the other way around.” Kolya’s usual calm falters as he assembles his tiles in front of him.
Once again, Boris and Yan take the lead. I swear, Boris is like an encyclopedia that keeps coming up with the right words.
I take another sip of my vodka, mouthing at Kolya to give me a