When our boots touched the ground, headlights exploded across the tarmac. A matte-black SUV shot toward us, tires screeching, engine roaring like the driver hadn’t so much arrived as attacked the road. The brakes screamed as the vehicle jerked to a stop not ten feet from the base of the stairs.
The doors flew open.
Mikhail was the first out, all barely harnessed fury in a tailored coat. His gaze swept over Andrei, then snapped to me as thoughhe was checking me for injuries from a distance. Viktor was right behind him, less composed, eyes blazing with a mix of worry and abject relief.
“Katerina!” Mikhail barked, closing the distance between us in several long strides.
Viktor cut around him, grabbing his younger brother by the shoulders. “What the hell happened? You look like death, little brother.”
Andrei shook his head and grinned. “Love you too, Viktor.”
Mikhail stopped in front of me, jaw tight. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head. “I’m alive.”
Viktor exhaled sharply. “That’s not an adequate answer. Start talking. Tell us everything.”
Morning in Dubai felt like waking inside a warm hug. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the guest room, pooling across the sheets and warming my bare legs.
I stretched, every muscle protesting the way I’d been tossed around last night inside a jet that nearly fell out of the sky. My body was sore, and I threw an arm across my face with a groan. Not only did I have to deal with the fact that Revenant potentially tried to kill me and Andrei and would probably be gunning for us now, but then there was the issue of the three Dragunov brothers…
And to be honest, the latter was spiraling around in my head far more than the former.
I’d been with Andrei yesterday. And before that, Mikhail. And before that, Viktor.
The thought still made heat pool low in my stomach and a flush creep up my neck. I’d slept with all three. Not in some planned-out way. Not as some arrangement or negotiation. Just pure, destructive, delightful chemistry and circumstance and need. It just sort of happened…
Now I had to face them.
All three of them. At the same time.
Great.
I put on a loose black shirt and cargo pants—the soft fabric felt comforting after the adrenaline-drenched insanity of the past twenty-four hours—and padded barefoot out of the guest room, following the smell of coffee and some sort of buttery yumminess drifting through the open space of the living area.
Voices reached me first.
Andrei was the first brother I saw. He was sitting at the long kitchen island, shoulders hunched slightly, one hand pressed to the side of his head like he was trying to hold his skull together. His hair stuck up on one side. He looked rough.
Viktor leaned against the counter near him, arms crossed, face twisted into something between amusement and concern.
“You look like you lost a fight with a ceiling fan,” Viktor said.
Andrei glared. “Plane wall.”
“Better,” Viktor said. “Classier.”
Across the room, Mikhail poured coffee for himself. He lifted his eyes when he saw me enter.
“Katerina,” his deep voice welcomed me. “Good morning.”
My heart skipped. All three of them turned toward me at once.
It felt like standing in front of a firing squad made of handsome, dangerous men I’d already slept with.
“Morning,” I managed, feeling heat flush my cheeks.
Andrei perked up at the sight of me, even through his pain. He straightened, wincing slightly. “Hey,” he said. “You look better than I feel.”
