“What do we do?” Little Brody asked. “My wife … our brothers. Da. They’re … at The Red Door.”
“What we do, son, is”—Mam infused encouragement, squeezing his shoulder—“drive faster. Lose the tail.”
37
SIMONA
It was justpast five a.m., and I hadn’t slept yet. My favorite cousin. Nyet, my sister. My sister was missing. Had I made a mistake listening to Lachlan’s father when I arrived at The Red Door later than Natasha suggested? I guess not late enough to miss the aftermath of a hostile civil war.
Big Brody’s calm tone, which my father lacked, quelled my usual suspicions. Of course, the cute, calm, and also married one flanked his side.
Keith. No Leith.Da. A shame. He was a good one. Now, glaring at yet another brother, I slurped the final bits of my caramel ribbon crunch frap.
The baby.
What’s his name?
“Wake up, so I can find out,” I muttered.
My protector, Baran, stood arms folded near the bedroom door. Despite his cross expression, he raised an eyebrow, questioning me. I shook my head. Father never repeated himself. Me either.
Father didn’t know, but I never left home without Baran.
He caught my attention again, visions of red dancing in his slitted eyes when they darted toward MacKenzie Number Seven. So innocent.
My eyes narrowed on Baran. A warning.
One last slurp. I climbed from Baby MacKenzie’s computer chair so fast it swiveled. I removed the switchblade from my leather tights, flicked my wrist.
Baran grinned.
I rolled my eyes.Not so fast,priyatel’—buddy.
I ran the silver hilt along Baby MacKenzie’s bare foot.
The soft snores transitioned. A mumbled chuckle.
Really?Wake up already! I turned the knife and pricked, quickly and fast. A minuscule puncture.
The Scot jumped from his pale skin. Jake needed to sit in the sun like his brothers. He clutched the sheets, hiding a six-pack, a pleasant detail that caught my eye.
“What the—what the—Simona Resnov?”
“Nyet.Resnova. I’m a woman, not a man! Now, I’m not a grammar instructor. I’ll ask the questions, Baby MacKenzie.” I wriggled my jaw, and the grit from my tone dissipated. “Your father told me they were taking Natasha to the hospital last night.” My tone remained silky soft. “They lied to me.”
“Where is mybrat?” Baran flew from near the door onto the bed. Baby MacKenzie threw a foot, connecting with my guard’s boxy jaw.
As Baran lifted a fist and brought it back, I grabbed his arm. “Stop!”
He stood at ease, hands behind him.
Jake stuttered, “Listen, y-you and Shrek …”
“Shrek? Nyet! He is Baran. His brother, Borya, is missing. Someone framed him.” My tone softened, empathetic. “You have brothers. Wouldn’t that?—”
“Missing? Framed? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about! Can’t help you.” He glared at Baran. “Sure as hell don’t know where your brother went.”
“Are you certain, Baby MacKenzie?”
