November 15, 2014—The day after the charity event…
I had lied to Daniil.
I knew nothing good would come from the fabrication.
No one gets away with lying to the Russian mafia without repercussions.
But I hadn’t liked his backhanded ways, nor had I enjoyed the fact I had been duped. It took me too long to catch on about the alcohol here at the resort, and I wanted to verify it by saying I was on my period.
I wasn’t. No bleeding for me yet.
I was bloated though, so it was on its way.
I would deal with Daniil on that issue when my monthly friend really came.
With the shadow of Least Ugly following me from Daniil’s room to mine, I waved to Zane as he came out of his room. He scratched his head full of messy curls, wearing only his boxers.In the resort’s hallway.I vaguely wondered if their group had rented the entire floor.
Zane stared at my hair as I hit the elevator button before he banged on the door opposite his. “Stash, you bastard. Open up!” Hebangedlouder. “I know you stole my boots.” He paused. “And my fucking alarm clock.” He grinned as the elevator opened, saying more softly, “Nice hair.”
“Same to you,” I replied. My red curls were a disaster of their own. I needed a shower and caffeine to wake up. Our flight wasn’t until later today, well after the last farewell outing Mrs. Donovan had scheduled for this fun-filled event. She had scheduled The Ernest Hemmingway Home & Museum, a quiet affair. I merely thanked God it didn’t involve blood. She had taken mercy on the worn out contenders and the snobs donating to her charity.
I blinked when a blonde open Stash’s door from inside. I paused halfway in the elevator, my shadow still…well, my shadow guard. I gawked. She had a blue dress shirt on that wasn’t buttoned up. And that was all—bare under underneath and showing it blatantly.
Zane glanced down at her as she leaned against the doorframe, his gaze darting over her voluminous curves. He peered back over her head, shouting, “Stash! I want my shit! Now!”
“Is Cara awake yet?” the blonde asked.
Zane nodded. “She’s finishing getting dressed.”
Another blonde exited. But it was from Zane’s room.
She looked just like the other one. Although, she was clothed. Twins.
Nope.Scratch that.
Another blonde peeked around the naked blonde’s head from inside Stash’s room, asking, “Cara, I think you took my purse last night.” She looked just like the other two. Triplets. “Does that one have a toothbrush in it?”
The elevator started buzzing, and I jumped.
The triplets and Zane turned their attention to me…
A fourth blonde came out of Zane’s room.Where did they find them?
My jaw was hanging wide, but my reporter instinct came to the fore. I had to ask, “Quadruplets?”
The fourth blonde shook her head. “No. We’re all each a year apart.” She waved her hand when I blinked. “We get that all the time, though. You’re not the first to ask.”
“Hmm,” I hummed, staring at Zane’s hair. Now I got it. So I replayed our previous greeting but reversed, “Nice hair.”
He chuckled, playing along. “Same to you.”
I waved—my hair always looked like this after sleeping—and pressed the button for my floor as he started shouting at Stash again. My shadow slipped into the elevator with me. I needed to hurry.
Getting out on the green floor I noticed a quiet, smallish man resting against a wall. His eyes were closed, but when I stepped out of the elevator, they opened. He surveyed Least Ugly, his gaze instantly darting to me, his eyes assessing. My eyebrows came together as he and Least Ugly did a little nod toward each other as if they knew one another.
After walking past him, I asked my shadow quietly, “Who was that?”
“Ruslan.”
