I smile back at him. “Can’t wait.”
We stay at the diner for over two hours, killing time talking. Dorian loves the food, and orders an extra milkshake to go—I also get a burger and additional milkshake to bring to Asher.
Seamus is already at the range when we get back. “Thirty men,” he says without preamble when we walk into the lobby. He’s seated on the counter, legs dangling over a glass display case. With his laptop open on his lap, he looks at home and at ease, as if he does work from a gun range all the time.
“That’ll be about three for each of us,” Dorian says with a nod. “I call dibs on Clyde. He’s my kill.”
I don’t protest. I want Clyde dead, but I don’t necessarily want to be the one to kill him. I already have enough blood on my hands; I’d prefer to avoid racking up a higher body count.
“Sergei’s early,” Connor says, walking into the room. “He just messaged that he’s touched down. He’ll be here in an hour.”
I find Asher upstairs and deliver his burger and shake. He smiles at me gratefully, taking his food from the paper bag and setting it up on the coffee table. I idle awkwardly in the doorway to the sitting room, a thousand questions settled on the tip of my tongue.
He must sense my wish to talk, because he gestures to the chair opposite to him. “Go on, sweetheart. I’ll let you have some of my fries.”
I pat my belly. “I already ate my fill and then some, but thank you.” I take the seat across from him. “And… thank you for all the times you took me to the diner. And for helping out. You didn’t have to—”
“I did,” Asher interrupts. “You’re my blood. I should’ve taken you from Clyde when your mother passed.”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask quietly. My life would’ve been drastically different if I’d lived with Asher instead of Clyde. I would have a lot less trauma, but I’d also have less life experience and slower instincts.
“Because he threatened to kill you, and I couldn’t find a foolproof way to keep you safe,” Asher replies. “I’d already let you down in so many ways, I couldn’t live with myself if you died.”
“What about earlier?” I ask. “Surely you weren’t hooked on drugs my entire childhood.” I wince at the words as they leave my lips. I don’t mean to shame Asher for his old habit—I can’t imagine what he had to go through after his honorable discharge.
“I wasn’t a good person for several years. There’s a reason your mom broke up with me,” Asher says. “I got clean after a few years, but even then, I was directionless. Lost. Unfit to be a father. By the time I got my shit together, it was too late.”
“I don’t mean to condemn you,” I murmur.
“I know. Even if you did, I wouldn’t blame you. I didn’t take responsibility for you when I should’ve; I failed you in more ways than I could count.”
“I should’ve realized when I started coming around here,” I say, gazing around the living room. “You were always unusually kind to me.”
“I did the bare minimum.”
“You did a lot more than that,” I disagree, shaking my head. “You had my back when no one else did. I never heard about a hospital bill for my leg. I never went hungry when I was here. You taught me skills that saved my life more than once, then sent me off to find a better life. You did everything you could, and for that, I’ll be forever grateful.”
Asher blinks a few times, a sheen overcoming his grey eyes. Eyes that I inherited.
“I’d like to get to know you more, but I understand if you want to keep your distance,” I offer.
He smiles. “I’d like that too, sweetheart. Now, tell me about that school of yours while I gorge myself on carbs.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Asher finishes his meal just in time for Sergei to show up with a goddamnentourage. I watch through the window of the lobby as three black SUV’s pull into the parking lot. Dorian stands right beside me, with Seamus and Connor next to him, forming a perfect straight line. Their shoulders are squared, chests puffed out. They look like soldiers awaiting orders, which I suppose they are.
A bell over the front door rings as a goddamnbeastof a man opens the door, holding it wide. In steps another, slightly leaner man, who’s no less imposing. Danger swirls around him like a shroud, suffocating his energy with dark fumes. His expression is blank. His black hair, slicked back from his face; his teal eyes, sharp and watchful. He carries himself with the confidence of a conqueror and quiet calm of an apex predator. Even though I’m reasonably sure he won’t hurt me, I can’t help but feel disconcerted at his presence.
“Gentlemen,” he greets the legionaries. His eyes fix on me, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “And you must be Mira. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
I glance at Dorian instinctively. He meets my eyes and gives me a slight nod, silently telling me to be at ease.
“I guess you have me at a disadvantage, then. All I’ve heard about you is that you own at least half the world.”
Sergei shrugs. “I’m an ambitious man.” He walks forward, and five beastly men file in behind him, standing in front of the door and windows. Sergei stops two feet away from me and extends his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I swallow and step forward, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. “Same to you.”
