Then he came upright so fast I jumped out of my skin. Icy hands to my face, my throat, my hair, before this fucker reared away like I’d burned him, slashing a fresh wound in my heart.
“Net.” He stumbled back, towards the house. “Lida. Come.”
He was gone before I could stop him, the door swinging shut like a prison cell, except I was trapped in fresh air and warm sunshine, drowning in the scent of blossom and fuckingoranges. Cos my subconscious was a gaping arsehole.
Viktor didn’t come back. I reclaimed my porch seat, keeping my back to a side wall, so I could watch the door and the horizon, while keeping an eye on the security phone Jakov had left for me, along with a set of access instructions that had made my brain bleed. Couldn’t fault him for thoroughness, but fucking hell. Bastard could’ve at least left me some tunes to make up for The Krypton Factor adventure I’d completed to use the stupid thing.
No tunes. Be alert, remember?
As if I could forget. I darted a rapid-fire glance between all the things that needed my attention, shifting to ease the pressure on my bruised ribs, enjoying the absence of the killer headache I’d nursed the last few days. I didn’t hurt that much compared to when I’d fought Nash, but I was still glad Cam had made me hang around the MC to recover before he’d granted Jakov permission to recruit me.
If I could call it that when I’d have crawled over hot coals to get here for free.
I went back to the souped-up phone Jakov had left, figuring it was less sad than staring at the door Vik had shut in my face. A reaction I’d expected cos Embry had warned me about it when Cam had dragged him into our what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-with-your-life huddle.
“It’s going to be a long time before he thanks you for showing up for him.”
Give a shit. I didn’t need anyone’s thanks. I just needed Vik to be okay, cos if there was one thing worse than thinking he was dead, or not having a clue what had become of him, it was knowing for sure that he was in so much fucking pain he’d rather smoke junk than live.
As that cracker of a thought completed, a shadow flitted past a window. Lida, maybe? Vik had looked ready to pass out, but I knew from Jakov that he often spent days and days awake without the stimulation of mob warfare to keep him occupied.
The shadow flitted again.
I rose without making a conscious decision to do so, fingers itching to swipe the keypad and let myself in, utilising every inch of the mind-boggling trust Jakov had given me. More than just a phone, I had access to everything—weapons, the house, the security system for the whole property. A giant pile of emergency cash I’d buried on my way up this fucking mountain.
“I will endure any cost to save my brother.”
Brother. I’d wondered in the past if Vik and Jakov’s interpretation of the word was as flexible as most of the men in my world, but them banging was the last thing on my mind as the lock clicked on the front door and it ripped open like it was caught in a hurricane.
That hurricane was Viktor Petrenko, and you know what? That gorgeous bastard was still hamstered off his box, but this time I recognised the man staring back at me, and the relief gave me fucking goosebumps.
Or maybe it was the barest, faintest hint of the smile I saw every time I shut my damn eyes. “So you are pleased to see me, eh?”
Viktor sighed and opened the door wider. “I have not decided yet, so you had better come in.”
I’d never been in a posh house in my life, even to rob it. Orla O’Brian’s place was as flash as I’d ever been, and her Devon flat was a world away from the house Viktor waved me into.
It was white—very white. The walls and the furniture, with walnut wood fixings and terracotta tiles on the floor. Artwork splashed the occasional pop of colour, but I was distracted by the upgraded version of the sound system he’d lured me to Leeds with. “You jammy cunt.”
Viktor turned and followed the direction of my attention. “I forget how you say such things instead of actual sentences.”
“It’s a sentence.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means I’d have fucking died if you’d told me you had this on top of the other shit you showed me.” I itched to take a steptowards the juicy sound system, but the lead in the air stopped me. I wasn’t here to salivate over Viktor’s music taste. Or even salivate overhim. “Anyway. Where am I sleeping?”
“Excuse me?”
I turned my back on the sound system and moved closer to where Viktor hovered in a doorway I knew led to a kitchen—cheers for the map, Jakey. “Where do you want me? I don’t mind if it’s outside under one of them tangerine bushes, but if it’s in this fucking mansion, you need to give me a minute to acclimate.”
“Tangerine bushes...” Deep confusion returned to Viktor’s face, creasing his forehead, his eyes melting into his fucking skull. He rubbed his temple. “If I did notknow, you could not be real.”
“And he says I talk bollocks.”
Viktor stared, unfocused, and I treated myself to the liberty of giving him another once-over. Dressed in cargo shorts and a faded tee, there was no hiding how slim his already lean frame had become, how pale he was, or the scars littering his arms.
Track marks.
