She had balls,he’d give her that. Gunnar watched Jorja as she glared at him. She’d found herself cornered and came up swinging with that purse of hers. Given the way Colt had grunted, it packed some weight behind it. He’d asked her twice now why his name was on some list on her phone; one Marco informed him looked suspiciously like a hit list.
Remi shoved his phone under his nose and Gunnar read the screen. He looked at his brother, who shrugged in reply.
Crap. Remi wasn’t sure if that information was correct. Gunnar took Remi’s phone. “Do the names Vladimir Karamazov and Maxim Sokolov mean anything to you, Jorja?” Her gulp was audible as she stared at him and nodded. “Why are they on the same list as me?” He could come up with multiple answers for why that would happen. None of those reasons were good.
“I don’t know.”
Her voice was so soft, he almost didn’t hear her.
“I found it, I recognized your name from high school, and…”
“You drove all the way to Italy from Hamburg, just to tell me I am on a list with two dead men?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Jeez, it was like dragging info from a tango who didn’t want to talk.
“Because the men who went to the same school as me are heroes in my hometown.” Jorja dug into her purse and came up with a phone. “I took pictures, so you can see what I saw. If you are still what I think you are, you’ll know what you are looking at better than me.”
Something wasn’t adding up. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. But everything about Jorja Buchanan disturbed something inside him. Remi nudged him gently in the back and Gunnar nodded, answering the unspoken question. Remi reached past his shoulder and took the phone Jorja held out.
“Password.”
“Give it back,” Jorja said. “I’ll put it in.”
“Smart choice.” Remi came around him, handed her the phone, and grabbed a chair to sit next to her.
He could hear the approval in Remi’s voice as she’d refused to give him the password for her phone. Of course, his brother would approve ofthat. If Remi started to believe her, he was going to boot his ass. She was a potential enemy until he said otherwise.
“Scroll right.” Jorja handed the phone back to Remi. “That’s the first photo I took.”
“Thanks.” Remi frowned at the phone, then pinned her with a stare Gunnar recognized. “Why were you down in the dark web?”
“Looking for auction items.”
What the hell?
Even he wasn’t computer illiterate enough to not know what kind of items were sold on the dark web. Gunnar knewhis eyebrows had almost disappeared into his buzz cut hairline. He didn’t need a damn mirror to tell him that. “What kind of auction items?” he growled. If she was buying and selling kids or weapons, then he’d plant her fucking gorgeous ass in a jail cell and throw away the key without looking back.
She glared back at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but artifacts and antiques.”
He wasn’t sure that he believed her. “Verify that,” he ordered Remi.
“Yeah, doing it.” Remi stayed focused on the phone. From where he sat, Gunnar could see his finger swiping to the left rather than to the right as Jorja had told him to do. “Based off these photos, what she says is true,” Remi finally said. “Almost every photo on here is of a screen with old paintings and shit.”
“That’s not shit.” Jorja’s voice dripped scorn. “That’s a Rembrandt, but I suppose a punk like you wouldn’t even know how to spell the name, never mind pronounce it.”
Gunnar bit down on the inside of his mouth, but made the mistake of looking at Talon and Colt, and he couldn’t stop the bark of laughter which escaped in spite of himself. The two boys cracking up laughing didn’t help.
“Fucking hilarious, assholes.” Remi kicked him hard on the ankle just above his boot. “Shut up.”
His little brother should know better than to say that. He made a mental note to remember which name to call him for at least a week. Gunnar could see the confusion on Jorja’s face. She had no clue what was going on, and they must look like they’d lost their minds. “You don’t know what Remi is short for, do you?”
“Remington. Like the guns,” she immediately replied. “I remember from school.”
“Hah.” He wished. Talon slapped Colt’s shoulder and bothof them laughed again. If Gunnar had known it would only take someone mentioning that to take off the concern they’d all been carrying around like a sack of books since he’d been shot, he’d have made a point of teasing Remi about his damn name weeks ago. “Nope,” Talon snorted when he could finally breathe. “Remi is Rembrandt for the artist, as our momma wanted at least one kid to have a non-weapons name. Isn’t that right, Rembrandt?”
“I hate you,” Remi snarled over his shoulder. “Remember this moment the next time you need me to find shit for you, asshole.”
