“They refused. Everyone here is becoming too prudish,” Cain replies. “We may need to reassess our contract.”
“What about Ellery?”
“The one with the fake Boston accent?”
That makes Georgiy stiffen. “How is it fake?”
I nod. “Oh yes. I forgot. I heard it slip during the fight. Then they sounded, Irish, I think. But they remind me ofme, so I bet they’d give you something,” I say, and Cain and Ezra look at one another, some kind of telepathic conversation moving between them.
“Fine. But we’ll be back for our payment if they refuse.”
“Sounds good,” I say, smacking my lips together and falling back onto the pillow, listening as the door snicks shut and wiggling this way and that.
“Stay still,” Georgiy grumbles, but I’m too happy, I just want to move.
I squirm until I’m right up against Georgiy. He smells like me, and I can’t stop sniffing.
“Are you a sobachka now?”
“A cute little dog? Maybe? Maybe I should lick you, too.”
I stick out my tongue, ready to swipe it up his chest, but he stops me with a hand on my chin.
“No, go to sleep. You’re tired.”
A whine slips from me. “But when I sleep, I remember.”
“I’ll be here, umnyashka. I’ll make sure to keep the demons away.”
And he is. In my dreams, when Death inevitably comes and hovers over me, his dark eyes flashing, my reaper is there, clawing the cloying, sickly smell of him away slowly, making him recede to the back of my mind.
And for the first time in ages, I sleep well.
20
BANE
“Ineed you both to go up to San Francisco and find this sonofabitch. Ruiz called and told me he knows the location of an underground casino. And it just so happens to be near the house Henry lived in at some point. There has to be a fucking connection between that place and whoever is behind trying to fuck us over,” Anthony tells Georgiy and me. “Take Kit and Jax with you.” He looks around the room. “And Casey. Mikhail said he could spare him.”
“Are we finding the real bad guy?” I ask.
“You fucking better. I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Just as he says that, Tatum sashays in, wearing a short robe, a cup of coffee in his hand. “He sure is. Says his back and knees hurt. The ambush did a number on him.”
“Tatum,” he growls. But Tatum is unbothered, just smirks at his man.
“He’s really not cut out for this life. He needs a nice retirement.”
He sets the cup of coffee down and sinks into Anthony’s lap, sighing when Anthony twines his arms around his waist and presses his lips to his neck.
“He also really needs a nap.”
“I do not. I just need some fucking peace and quiet. The amount of money I had to pay to the police commissioner to sweep that ambush under the rug was exorbitant. If Hen—the little shit—keeps this up, then I’ll have to take out a loan to cover costs.”
That makes Tatum snort. “I’ve seen your accounts, Anthony. That won’t happen.”
“It could. That’s the point. Itcould.”
