“Gela—” My voice is hoarse just as I begin to ask her what she really wants, when my goddamn fucking phone begins to ring.
I freeze, my fingers still on her clit.
“Ignore it,” she whispers against my lips.
I have every intention of doing so, but the phone cuts off, and my emergency line begins to ring.
“Fuck,” I hiss, knowing what that means. Only my family has access to the emergency line. Something is really wrong out there, and one of my siblings is probably involved.
I reluctantly pull away and press my forehead against hers. “I'm sorry, I really have to check this.”
She nods but looks disappointed. She’s still breathless, her chest heaving, and I hate leaving her like this, but duty calls.
I grab my phone from where it landed on the floor and check the screen to see a missed call from Iosif.
I immediately call him back.
“Valentin?” He sounds scared. “Listen. I’m sorry for calling so late, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
“What happened?” I immediately begin dressing. From the corner of my eye, I see Gela sit up, the worry clear in her face.
“I’m in deep shit at Krukov's place. I got into a fight while digging for info on the Zakharovs, and the place is wrecked. Krukov's men have me cornered. I’m calling from the bathroom.”
My blood runs cold. Krukov's gambling den is notorious for its handling of troublemakers. “Fuck, Iosif! I'm on my way.”
I hang up and turn back to Gela, who's already rebuttoned her blouse, her face flushed with concern.
“I have to go,” I tell her, grabbing my wallet and keys. “We’ve got a little bit of a family emergency.”
“Is everything okay?” she asks, sliding off the desk.
“Iosif’s in trouble,” I explain, grabbing my gun. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”
She nods, understanding but clearly disappointed. I can't leave it like this. I rush over to her in a half run and cup her cheeks between my hands, kissing her deeply one more time.
“This isn't over,” I promise against her lips. I mean it, because leaving her wanting feels like I’m betraying whatever is growing between us, and I need her to know I’m in for the journey.
“Uh-huh.” She doesn’t say more.
***
I screech to a halt outside Krukov’s dingy building, the sad excuse of a place he calls a gambling den.
When I step inside, I find utter chaos, like the whole place has been ransacked. The tables are overturned, there’s broken glass everywhere, and in the corner, surrounded by four of Krukov's goons, is my idiot little brother, sporting a bloody nose.
“Val!” He looks thoroughly relieved when he sees me. “Just in time for the party!”
I flick him off. He always does this. Gets into reckless trouble, then acts like he’s having the time of his life, even when he’s seconds away from getting his kneecaps broken.
“Mr. Yuri.” Krukov turns to me with a face full of rage. “Your brother has caused quite a disturbance in my establishment.”
“I can see that,” I say calmly. “I'm here to collect him and make things right.”
“This gambling den is neutral territory, but he caused a ruckus by asking dangerous questions.” Krukov narrows his eyes. “He pissed off a bunch of guys, and look what they did to this place!”
“I'll handle it. Name your price for the damage.” I try to appease him.
“But, I didn’t fucking do this. Catch the guys who broke your tables, will you?” Iosif protests.
