“How long do you think this will last?” he asked, voice soft, deadly. “How long before you realize you have no cards left to play?”
I smiled slowly. “That’s the thing about us Dragunovs. We carry the whole deck.”
He opened his mouth, probably to say something self-important, but I cut in smoothly, “You want information? Ask your questions. Not that you’ll like my answers.”
Not that I cared.
He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing a short arc like he owned the space. “Your younger brother, Andrei—where is he going next?”
I snorted. “Who knows. Kid’s a wildcard and a menace. A pretty one, but a menace.”
The commander leaned in, letting his shadow cut across the floor like a blade. “You think your brothers will come for you?”
“I know they’ll come, but not for me.”
His brow rose. “Oh?”
“They’ll come for her.”
He didn’t react, but the air in the room shifted. Thickened.
“Katerina Volkov,” I said. Her name felt like trouble and fire on my tongue. “Revenant’s least obedient asset. My—” I stopped. Rephrased. “Partner.”
His gaze sharpened. “Partner?”
“Not in the HR sense,” I said lightly. “More in the ‘if you harm one more hair on her head, I’ll turn this whole building into a pile of modern art’ sense.”
His stare flicked to the camera. He knew it was destroyed. He knew I’d done it on purpose. And then it flicked back to me.
“Your concern for Ms. Volkov is noted,” he said dryly.
I shrugged. “Concern’s a strong word. She’s a headache. A gorgeous, infuriating, brilliantly dangerous headache. Thinking about her is a hazard to my blood pressure.”
And my cock, but no need to confess that to Captain Repressed right now.
The commander’s nostrils flared. “You’re amusing yourself. Stop.”
“I would,” I returned, “but you’re standing uncomfortably close. And when I’m stressed, I say stupid things. When I’m annoyed, I say dangerous things. And when I’m angry…” I leaned in, matching his quiet threat with one of my own, “I don’tsayanything.”
He stiffened. He didn’t step back. Men like him never step back.
But his little eye-flick down the hall betrayed him. He didn’t want this moment escalating.
Because someone else might hear.
Maybe someone he didn’t want to know I’d rattled him.
I filed that away. A pressure point for later.
He cleared his throat. “Whether Ms. Volkov survives depends on your cooperation.”
I swallowed the urge to lunge at him.
Katya, my Katya—Katerina Volkov—alone in some med-wing torture lab downstairs. Drugged. Restrained. Questioned. Bleeding. Smirking at her interrogators because she knew she’d cut their throats if they got too close.
My stomach twisted.
Thinking about her made my hands shake in ways no gun battle ever could.
