The Enforcer (Chicago Bratva #3) - Renee Rose Page 0,40

relationships—at least the intimate ones—but there was no question when I found him bleeding in my van that I was all-in with him. And no question when we got jumped at Rue’s. Whatever he’s into, I’m sticking beside him.

Once we see it through, I’ll probably bail, but I don’t abandon friends in need.

He’s more than a friend, a voice whispers in my head.

I nuzzle into his neck and kiss his hot skin. “You should go and lie down,” I murmur.

No. He doesn’t move, but I hear the word clearly projected in my head.

I stand and pull on his hand. “Come on. Svetlana will need to look at your wound.”

He catches me around the waist and lifts me back to his lap. With his phone, he texts one-handed and sends a message.

Ravil’s phone beeps. He reads the message and considers me.

“What does it say?” I demand. This literal game of telephone is going to drive me nuts.

“It says, talk to Story.” Ravil says it like an apology. Like he already knows it’s going to piss me off, and it does.

I rotate to glare at Oleg. “I told you not to do that.”

His stare back is blank. I want to slap that impassive wall right down. “Oleg. what the fuck, does talk to Story mean?” I demand.

“I’m guessing he wants us to straighten out the issue of you wanting to leave the premises,” Maxim says mildly from beside us.

Oleg nods.

Okay, that makes sense. But I’m still pissed. “Don’t say talk to Story,” I tell Oleg. His stoicism crumbles under my glare. He blinks. His lips move. I swear to God he mouths the word sorry.

“Was that sorry?” I ask.

He nods. He looks sorry.

“Thank you.” My shoulders sag. I point at my sternum. “You talk to me. Don’t make them do it for you. I don’t even know them.”

I barely know Oleg, I think, but then acknowledge it’s not true. I know him intimately. And I feel like I’ve always known him.

Oleg appears daunted. I don’t think he’s breathing. He looks at his phone and back at me. Then he types something.

Ravil reads it. “I need you to stay here. Please, lastochka.” Ravil looks at Maxim. “What bird is that in English?

Maxim clears his throat. “Swallow.”

Swallow. He has a pet name for me. And I’d never heard it. But like any songbird, I hate to be caged. The anxiety I feel before I break things off with a guy rears up strongly. “I have lessons to teach, starting tomorrow. And gigs Friday and Saturday.”

Yeah, I’m being irrational. I had a gun to my head last night. I shouldn’t be thinking about lessons and gigs.

Oleg scowls and shakes his head.

Maxim interjects, “Sorry, sweetheart. You’re going to sit tight while we figure out who’s after you and Oleg and make it go away.”

“That’s right,” Ravil says. “I hate to paint the picture for you, but I will. Someone wants what’s in Oleg’s head, and they know he cares about you, which means your life’s in danger. Unless you want to get picked up and tortured while Oleg watches, you’ll stay where we can protect you. I’m not going to elaborate on what would happen after they got what they wanted, if Oleg can even give it to them.”

A muscle tics in Oleg’s cheek. He sucks in a harsh breath through his nostrils.

“Right. Okay.” My voice sounds shaky. That makes sense. I twist my fingers around each other. “Um, yeah. I’ll cancel my lessons.”

“You will.” Ravil walks around to the front of his desk and leans against it.

“But what about the gigs this weekend? I don’t have a replacement.”

Oleg growls his displeasure.

“You’ll cancel them, too, if we don’t have this sorted out,” Ravil says.

Maxim gets up to pace. “Who came after you on Saturday?” he asks Oleg. “Did you know them?”

Oleg shakes his head and types on his phone. Ravil reads the text aloud in English. I didn’t recognize anyone. They seemed like bounty-hunters. “Who wants you?” Ravil asks.

Oleg shrugs and types again. Could be anyone who found out who I worked for. They want to know where to find him, probably. Or where to find one of his associates.

“And do you know?” Ravil asks.

Oleg shakes his head and types, it’s been twelve years. I was in prison and with you. I know nothing.

“But whoever is after you will probably keep trying,” Maxim asks.

Oleg nods.

“Well, maybe the best defense is a good offense,” Maxim says.

No. I hear Oleg say it with his whole being before I