Volodya laughs instead of getting offended. “Yeah, he was.” He gives a small shrug. “Maddie’s fun to chase.”
I laugh and read the text that Evie just sent, telling me she’s about to go for a swim in the rooftop pool.
Did you pack your suit?
No. ;)
I bite back a groan at her response. Images of her wet, naked body run through my mind, and now it’s mixed with what my brothers just said. What if she is already pregnant? It’s a thought that would’ve sent me into a fierce panic before I met Evie, but now I’m sitting in the backseat with a huge fucking grin on my face while I try like hell to not get hard because now is definitely not the time.
When Volodya stops the car, parking against the corner near the bar, I turn all my attention to what’s about to happen. He checks his phone and then turns to us. “Everyone’s ready and waiting.”
The Blue Lagoon sits back from the street, and it’s a rundown-looking place that no one would ever pass and think,hey, let’s stop in here for a drink. It’s clearly designed to be uninviting for everyone who doesn’t have a standing invitation. The small parking lot is filled with motorcycles, and I’m betting they each have a topless mermaid with a blue tail painted on the gas tank.
“Everyone knows that Lyle’s mine, right?”
My brothers look back at me, each of them wearing a wicked grin, revealing that deadly part of themselves that they usually keep hidden away.
“Don’t worry, little brother,” Vasily says. “He’s all yours.”
Volodya checks his knives and then sends a quick text to Maddie, probably telling her to get her running shoes ready, because when he gets back to her tonight, he’s going to want to hunt her down. Nina and Evie aren’t going to be getting off the hook either. The Medvedev brothers will be going home after this with one thing on our minds. Tomorrow our women will carry around an ache between their legs, every step reminding them of us.
“Let’s fucking do this,” Vasily says, sending out the command to everyone as we get out of the car.
Soon the night is filled with the sound of motorcycles drawing closer. We’d told our guys to come on their bikes so it would be easier for them to slip in and out, and also it won’t look so suspicious from the outside to see a parking lot packed full of motorcycles when it’s a known biker bar. The first group comes in as we turn onto the cracked path that stretches to the door. Classic rock filters out from the dark bar as I grab my gun and click the safety off. The second group comes into the parking lot while the third one stays around the perimeter to keep others out and to alert us if the cops decide to show.
Men dressed in black sweep along the building, watching the windows and backdoor. I catch sight of Oleg’s white-blond hair before he ducks around the back, and soon Nikolai and Ilya are next to us, both wearing excited grins as they ready their guns.
Vasily looks back, giving us a nod before he opens the door and steps into the dark interior. We quickly fan out, covering every angle. The jukebox flips to a new song while the crowd eyes us, clearly not thrilled to be interrupted. Several more of our guys rush in, and when Volodya sees the bartender start to reach for something, he jumps over the bar and slits his throat before anyone even realizes what’s going on. As soon as they see the blood, all hell breaks loose. Some of the bikers start yelling while others try to reach for weapons, but we’ve got them outnumbered. I hear a few silenced shots behind me, and when the asshole in front of me reaches for his gun, I put a quick bullet in his head and then point my gun at the next guy. He wisely keeps his hands where I can see them and doesn’t attempt to move.
When a waitress comes out from the back, she looks around and then glares at the roomful of Russians. She’s older and judging by the hard look in her eyes, she’s been working this job for a long time and seen it all.
“Sit the fuck down,” Vasily yells at her, kicking the chair in front of him in her direction.
She sits down, but makes it damn obvious she’s not happy about it. When we’re sure no one else is going to try anything and Oleg hollers in to let us know the back is secure, we turn our attention to the men in the room.
“Which one of you is Lyle?” I ask, scanning the crowd of men. There are a few women, all of them waitresses, because most of the people here are older men who look like they’re desperately trying to relive their glory days and the only women they can get are those who are being paid to be here.
When no one raises their hand, I point my gun at the man closest to me. “I’ll shoot you all one by one,” I tell them. “I really don’t give a fuck.”
The man in front of me holds his hands up and shakes his head. I knew he’d rat out Lyle, but even I’m surprised by how quickly he does it. “Fuck this,” he yells and points a finger at a truly ugly man sitting at the bar. His hair is long and greasy, and even in the dim lighting, I can see the big gut hanging over his jeans. Knowing this asshole used to stare at my girl and make her feel so unsafe that she had to lock her goddamn door has me tightening my grip on the gun as I walk over to him.
“Well that didn’t take long. You don’t seem to inspire loyalty, Lyle,” I tell him.
He looks up at me, the rage obvious in his eyes. They’re small and too close together. He’s the kind of ugly that’s irritating to look at because his unattractive features are mixed with a really shitty attitude. It’s a combo that ensures most everyone hates him within seconds of meeting him.
“What the fuck do you want?” he asks, trying to appear tough even though I can see the slight tremor in his hands.
“I’d like to know why you’re going around telling people that Evie is yours, and I’d like to know why you sent that jackass after us last night.”
“Fuck you,” he growls.
I fist his dirty hair, cringing as the greasy strands meet my skin, and slam his head hard enough into the bar to break his nose. He screams and brings his hands to his face only to quickly pull them away when even his gentle probing is too painful to bear.
“Those were perfectly reasonable questions,” I remind him. “You’re the one who had to be a jackass.”
“You busted Jim’s hand,” he moans like that gives him the right to send some goon after Evie.
“I did. He beat her, and you just sat back and let it happen. Of course, I expect nothing less from a piece of worthless shit like you. Evie told me how you like to stare at her, how you told her she was going to be yours.” I let out a harsh, disgusted laugh. “You should never have been allowed to even be in the same room as her. Jim is alive because Evie is a better person than me, and she asked me to spare his life.” I smile and lean in closer, ignoring the rancid smell coming off his unwashed body. “She didn’t say anything about you, though.”
