Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,9

still lost a finger for it.”

“T is Alexei’s son?” The thump of my heart is heard in my question. When Eight nods, I ask, “His blood son?”

When he nods again, I get nervous for the first time in six years.

Fingers crossed it ends better than my last farce.

After checking on Roman in the makeshift hospital room in the dungeon of the Popov compound, I make my way outside to call Nikolai. I’m barely halfway across the foyer when he enters via the main door.

“Where is he?” He doesn’t need to mention Roman’s name for me to know who he’s referencing.

I point to a door at the end of a long corridor. “Dok’s with him. Not sure what happened yet. We just ran logistics as you requested.” Not exactly as requested, but I keep that snippet of information to myself. Nikolai is a killer in every sense of the term, so I’ve never seen him this worked up. Usually, he acts first, asks questions later—who do you think I learned my hang-up from?—but I get that he has to mix things up this time around. It isn’t just his livelihood at stake, his entire crew is in jeopardy. It’s not a good set of shoes to be in. I’ve done it once. Don’t plan to do it again anytime soon.

Needing to get something off my chest, I step closer to Nikolai. The change in position has me stumbling onto a dark-haired man with a face as hard as stone standing left of us. Although I’m reasonably sure I’ve seen him before, I can’t pinpoint where.

After following the direction of my gaze, Nikolai demands the dark-haired man to move on. Once he disappears into the shadows, Nikolai drifts his massively dilated eyes to mine. “What is it?”

Never one to sugarcoat things, I get straight to the point. “Alexei's men had the hospital barricaded. I had no choice. I couldn't get to Roman without taking down two of his men first.”

What? I’d rather tell him a little white lie than admit I acted like a pansy who can’t get over his past. When the time is right, I’ll tell Nikolai what really happened.

Now is not the right time.

Air whizzes from Nikolai’s nose, but he isn’t surprised by my revelation. “Loss of life is a casualty of war, Trey. Alexei knows that better than anyone.”

“Yeah, I get that,” I agree, nodding. “But I don’t see Alexei willing to accept that excuse when he discovers I murdered his son.”

Nikolai looks a little uneased while asking, “Which son?”

I swish my tongue around my mouth to loosen up my words. “Tristan.”

Nikolai’s relieved breath fans my cheek for barely a second before he sucks it back in. “Is Alexei aware of the incident?”

I shake my head. As much as Eight’s disclosure rocked my core, I wasn’t so stupid not to realize we need to keep Tristan’s death on the down-low for as long as possible. “No, we cleaned the scene as thoroughly, if not better, than you would have. Their bodies are still in my trunk.”

“Good. Keep them in there until I say so.” Before I can get in a word, he continues talking, “Once Justine is home, I'll deal with Alexei. Until then, his son’s body will remain in my possession.” Nothing but honesty is seen in his eyes when he says, “Negotiating Tristan's return is the only bartering chip I'll have for you to see out the week with your pulse not flatlining.”

I’m about to say it’s too late to worry about a flatlining pulse, but I realize the day he discovered his girl is being held captive by his murderous father may not be the best time to have a conversation about my empty chest.

“Alright, I’ll gather the men and head to Jim's. Hopefully, some ice will keep away the vultures.” Jim’s is a storage ground where we keep deceased bodies until the heat dies down. Jim is almost deaf, half-blind, and has freezers big enough to house fifty men. It’s one of the joys of owning a pig farm. The pigs come in handy, too, but I’ll keep that story for another day.

“Once you’ve got them on ice, gather the rest of the men from Clarks, then come back here.” Nikolai’s jaw gains a spasm. “Until we know what Vladimir’s plans are for Justine, none of us are getting any sleep.”

With my crisis diverted by a seemingly level-headed Nikolai, my inquisitiveness gets the better of me. “Is that who I think it is?”

The man