“You know, before I left, Valentina and I were close. We’re just…getting to know each other again.”
It’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not the whole truth either. I’m not ready to put it into words. Not when I’ve barely had the chance to process it myself. What am I supposed to say? That I had her pressed against a mirror and made her come while he and the others were in the next room.
“That was over fourteen years ago,” Silas says firmly. “Like I said, she’s changed. She’s a woman now, son. Beautiful. Smart. And you’ve been spending a lot of time together. But I didn’t miss the looks being exchanged at the table…hell, I don’t think anyone did. Especially Derek. Is that why he’s pissed?”
I rake a hand against the stubble on my jaw.
“He’ll never forgive me for what happened.”
Or maybe it’s not about that at all. Maybe he just never forgave me for existing. After Mom and Silas took me in, he looked at me like I was a mistake. Like he regretted not finishing the job when he had the chance all those years ago. And life was punishing him by throwing me back in his path. After a while, he stopped looking at me altogether.
“That’s not true. Derek will come around eventually. No one will ever be good enough for her in his eyes. And I can’t pretend I don’t feel the same. But I know that if anyone ever came close, it’s you.”
I glance over, a strange knot pressing in my throat.
“Not me. Valentina deserves?—”
“Someone who loves her, respects her, who’d die and kill for her,” Silas cuts in.
I lean an elbow on the car door, tutting under my breath. “Silas, I’ve never felt…never wanted…” Even talking about her ties my tongue in knots.
His hand lands heavily on my shoulder. “Then I’ll only ask one thing of you. Take care of her heart. She’s got a whole army in her corner, but not even your mom can save her from a broken heart…or you from Derek.”
I nod, and neither of us speaks. Nothing else needs to be said.
The car hums along for another ten minutes, daylight fading into dusk. Finally, he glances over.
“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
Twenty-Three
MAKSIM
Uneven gravel and a shit suspension on this loaner van rocks us side to side as we pull into a warehouse lot. I’d left my car fifteen minutes back, at the location specified in the contract. This decoy was waiting with six crates of untraceable weapons and ammo already loaded in the back. Tools made for a job, meant to neutralize a target, then vanish.
“So you’re here because your guy bailed?” Silas asks.
“Yeah. That pussy couldn’t hold his lunch.”
I’ll deal with Martin later.
For now, we focus on the job. Get in, get paid, and get the fuck out. We circled the perimeter beforehand. No one’s here.
“You up for this, old man?” I chuckle, sliding extra magazines into my holster.
He barks a laugh, racking the custom Glock Mom gave him on their last anniversary. “I think you forgot who sharpened your skills.”
Range time with Silas was one of the few things I used to look forward to. Him teaching me. Guiding me. It built trust between us.
But just as quickly, another memory slams through, uninvited. Pyotr’s gun at the back of my head, his voice in my ear, telling me to steady my aim or he’d put a bullet in my skull. For a second, I swear I can feel the cold press of that barrel, and my chest tightening like I’m ten again.
Some days, I really thought my heart would give out.
I shake it off. That was a different time. A different man stands beside me now.
It doesn’t take long before the groan of tires rolls through the lot, headlights cutting through the dim, washing across the side of the van. I give Silas a look, and he nods once, already shifting his stance, one hand loose at his side, the other hovering close to his weapon. The two vehicles slow, then idle across from us, lights blinding in the mirrors.
“How many are you expecting?” he asks.
