I shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “I’ve been told they’re quite impressive.”
Shorty made a choking sound beside me—somewhere between a laugh and a gasp of outrage.
I didn’t look at her.
“You think this is funny?” Vince took another step forward. “I could end you right here.”
“You could try,” I replied, my tone light but my eyes conveying a different message entirely. “But then you’d never learn the real reason why you’re here.”
That gave him pause, as I knew it would. Vince Salvini might be ruthless, but he wasn’t stupid. Information was currency in our world, and I’d just dangled a carrot in front of a donkey.
“Fine,” he said after a moment, his voice tight with controlled anger. He turned to Isabella. “You go with him. See what he has to say.”
Shorty looked between us, clearly annoyed at being traded like a bargaining chip. “I’m not a messenger pigeon, Vince.”
“Please…Bella,” he said, but I didn’t miss the hesitation before he said her name.
He didn’t know that I already knew.
Then he softened his tone slightly. “I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
Shorty held his gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. But only because I want some answers myself.” She turned to me, her expression hardening again. “Let’s go, Zotov. And if you value those impressive balls of yours, you better not try anything funny.”
I gestured toward the next Jeep in line, allowing her to walk ahead of me. As she passed, I caught the faint scent of her shampoo—something citrusy and light that seemed completely at odds with the heaviness surrounding us.
Mila and Nina obviously lent some clothes to the twins because I recognized the top she was wearing.
Vince caught my arm, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. “If anything happens to her?—”
“I know,” I cut him off, meeting his gaze steadily. “You’ll kill me slowly and painfully. Save the threats, Salvini. I’ve heard better from worse men. And I’m way more scared of your sister anyway.” Now that should give him some thought.
Shorty touched her brother’s arm. “It’s fine, Vince. I’ll see you guys at the compound.”
The look that passed between them spoke volumes—a silent communication I couldn’t fully decipher. Vince reluctantly backed away, his eyes promising retribution if anything happened to his sisters.
I opened the door for her, and she jumped into the passenger seat and waited until I took the wheel.
She searched my eyes with hers, suspicion warring with something else—perhaps the beginning of trust. “What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Buying time,” I murmured back. “Wait a sec.”
She gave a nearly imperceptible nod and stared straight ahead, allowing me to drive her toward the compound while keeping her family out of earshot.
“Be super careful around Grey,” I said without preamble, keeping my voice low despite the wind whipping around us. “I want you to always surround yourself with people, ideally my siblings. Never let him catch you alone.”
Isabella’s eyes met mine. “You think he will try something with my family here? And why are you telling me this? Did you have a change of heart? Are you done being his loyal attack dog?”
The question stung more than it should have. “I work for the Paraskia Syndicate, not Grey personally.”
“That’s not an answer,” she pressed. “Why warn me?”
I had no logical response—nothing that wouldn’t reveal more than I had time to explain right now. “Just watch yourself around him. He’s not what he seems.”
“And you are?” Her voice carried a challenge.
I turned slightly, meeting her gaze directly. “I’m exactly what I seem, Shorty. I’m not a good man, but the difference is, I’m not pretending otherwise.”
She narrowed her brows. “You care for me. You’re protecting me. I want to know why.”
