1
Drew
It seemed impossible that most of us within the Martinez family liked dick, but it was true. And I was no exception.
Hence why I couldn’t keep my fucking eyes off Dr. Nicholas Allman. Nicholas, the family doctor, kept to his infirmary most of the day, only stepping out long enough to grab food and water from the kitchen. Never saw him drink anything else. Not coffee, not tea, not even a damn sugar-free soda. Just plain ass fucking water.
When he wasn’t in his infirmary, he could more than likely be found in the training room doing a workout. And if he wasn’t there either, working hard to keep his body in tip-top shape despite him never seeing field work, then he was at home in the small cottage-like house Rico had apparently built for him years ago when he first hired Nicholas.
Nicholas had been a fancy-pants emergency room doctor back in San Diego, California before he operated on a pregnant womanwith appendicitis. She’d known the risks associated with the surgery, that she could very well miscarry. But she didn’t have much of a choice. If her appendix had ruptured, she would have been facing much more dire consequences.
She’d signed off on the paperwork. And she miscarried not long after her surgery. Her husband sued the hospital for the loss of their baby, who wasn’t even a baby yet, honestly. It was nothing more than a fucking ball of cells still. She hadn’t been but seven weeks pregnant. But because of the lawsuit, the hospital fired Nicholas, claiming malpractice.
That was when Rico stepped in, offering him better pay, a better benefits package, and his own little office within the mansion Rico housed all of us in.
When Alfonzo had brought me here a few years ago as a new recruit, I’d barely been twenty. Silent and kept to myself. Thought the world fucking had it out for me with all the bad luck I’d suffered up to that point. But one look at Nicholas as he gave me the first physical exam I’d ever had in my life, and I no longer gave a fuck what I went through previously because it all had led me to him.
I just hadn’t made a move yet… not in the nearly five years I’d been part of the Martinez family. I’d been biding my time. Waiting for the right moment to strike. Needing to make sure I could offer himsomethingbecause Nicholas was a fancy pants, wealthy doctor who didn’tneedanyone. So, I had to make sure I could bringsomethingto the table.
Just didn’t know what that was yet.
Alfonzo appeared in the doorway of Maksim’s office, and we both looked up at him. As Maksim’s bodyguard, I was to be athis side every moment Alfonzo was not with him. If Alfonzo was with him, I was free to do as I pleased. I just had to be nearby if Alfonzo needed me to take over.
Maksim Aguado, previously known as Maksim Arsenyev, was half in the door with the Bratva and half in the door with the Martinez family, due to his marriage with Alfonzo. The Bratva didn’t want to let go of him, and the Martinez family wouldn’t make him choose. Rico paid him well as Alfonzo’s personal assistant, if you could call Maksim that. He did every bit of desk work for his husband, so Alfonzo could be out in the field, slicing and dicing people to his little psycho heart’s content.
“Need to talk to you,” Alfonzo told me before leaving the office once more.
“What the fuck am I?” Maksim muttered, now jabbing his fingers into the computer keys aggressively. “Chopped fucking liver?”
I snorted and stood. Alfonzo popped his head around the doorframe, arching a brow at his husband. Maksim colored, his face turning red. “What was that, mouse?” Alfonzo drawled,daringhis husband to repeat himself. He loved Maksim to pieces, but he kept Maksim on a tight leash—a tight leash Maksim couldn’t seem to function without. He loved Alfonzo’s twisted and fucked up way of loving him.
“Nothing,” Maksim muttered. “Carry on.”
Alfonzo snorted and dipped back out once more. I followed him from the room, and once we were down the hall and out of earshot of his husband, Alfonzo turned to face me and handed me a manila folder. “Got a job for you.”
I took the folder and opened it up, arching a brow at the man staring back at me. He looked a hell of a lot like Maksim, just older, skinnier, and unhealthy-looking. Lifting my eyes, I arched my brows, waiting for an explanation. Alfonzo grunted. “He’s Maksim’s father, and he’s come into the states. Last I checked, he was trying toreunitewith his son, and I’m not allowing that to fucking happen. He abandoned Maksim. Left him for dead in the middle of winter in fucking Russia. Make him disappear. My husband will not have his life upended by fuckingtrash.”
I closed the folder. “Surprised you’re not dealing with this yourself,” I remarked.
Alfonzo shook his head. “Maksim texted me saying his shoulder is bothering him. Wanted pain meds, but I’m forcing him to take the rest of the day off, and you know how fucking stubborn he is about not working.” He rolled his eyes, but there was fondness as he spoke of his husband. “He’ll need me to keep him settled.”
I stepped back. “I’ll have confirmation of a kill before morning.”
Alfonzo nodded. “Good man.” With that, he clapped my shoulder and headed up the hall, calling, “Mouse, time to stop working for the day.” I laughed softly and headed further down the hall to my room, which was more like a studio apartment. It had a small kitchenette, a full-size fridge, microwave, coffee maker, couch, bed, TV—all the necessities needed in a studio apartment.
Rico was a dick, but he took care of all of us. And because of that, we respected the fuck out of him… and feared him just a bit—but a healthy amount.
I grabbed a hoodie and a beanie, then headed toward the garage to grab the black Maserati I’d been issued after becoming Maksim’s personal bodyguard.
I had a man to kill, and once I got back home, I had a doctor to spy on since I’d have the rest of my night free. Opening the folder, I noted the address, then headed for it. My guess was the man would be at home, and if not, I’d start wandering around the area until I spotted him. And Iwouldspot him because I, Drew fucking Rollins,alwaysfound my target.
2
Nicholas
Iswitched on the light in my office, damn near jumping out of my skin when I spotted Drew in the dark, rifling through my cabinet of bandages and first aid ointments and sprays. He turned to look at me as if he was doingnothingwrong, and I scowled. “You damn near gave me a fucking heart attack,” I snapped. “What are you doing in here in the fucking dark, boy?”
At almost ten years younger than me, Drew was everything I might have wanted back in my twenties when I was a doctor back in San Diego. But now, I just wanted peace. And Drew would disrupt that. So, I looked my fill of him when I could—discreetly—but I never let on that I wanted him. My hand worked just fine, as did my imagination. Besides, an attachment to a man like Drew was just asking for trouble. His hands were metaphorically bloody, and he slept like a baby at night despite what he did for this family. A man like that wasn’t a fit for a doctor like me. I was meant tohealpeople.
