The dogs go from statue still to snapping at their treat as fast as lightning. I’m stuck staring at Santiago, because how the hell does he know their release word?
He grins again. “It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it.”
“Yeah, right.”
His smile gets wider, and his eyes get a little more intense. All of it, including his cocky attitude, does bad, bad, bad things to my panties. Except, Santiago isn’t finished winding me up or making me remember he and I have history.
“Damn straight, it is. You remember, don’t you? I’d only have to whisper what I wanted you to do, and you’d squeeze my knot so hard I couldn’t help but flood your perfect pussy.”
I’m pretty sure I let out a little pant as his reminder takes me straight back to the exact moment he’s talking about. Until the freezing cold Russian winds snap my pretty daydream.
Giving myself the world’s fastest pep talk, I manage to pull myself together. I pat his chest on my way back to the table. “We need to chat.”
Kade is standing behind a chair, waiting for me to sit, his expression way too innocent. It has me sassing him too. “And don’t you start. I know your game.”
I plonk down onto my chair, but Kade isn’t done. He’s behind me, his mouth at the shell of my ear. “You know I’m only here for you. You need me to have him arrested, and all you have to do is ask.”
While we do need to talk, him bringing it up now kind of annoys me more than anything. But Kade, being Kade, isn’t about to let it go. “I’m sorry I lied to you about what I did. I didn’t want to sully what we had with my job. Quinn, I should have been up-front about my career.”
Kade’s seriousness is deserved, considering what he did was shitty, but then he moves to where I can see his expression shifting. His whiskey-colored eyes deepen, and I again wonder how much trouble the three of us are going to get into.
And then he speaks, confirming how in tune we are. “Not that we spent a lot of time talking. I mean, we did, but more often than not, you’d get me so come-drunk first, all I’d focus on was finding out who you are as a person, as opposed to talking about what we did.”
I drop my eyes to my plate, admitting the truth without looking at them. “I need to eat. My head is all over the place. Can we just not talk for a bit?”
“Of course.” They speak together, like parrots.
Not moving my eyes off my plate of food, I eat everything, then go back for extra roasted potatoes. Only when I’m done do I realize the dogs are back to being sentinels beside me, and Kade and Santiago are sitting back in their chairs.
Without being asked, they help me wrap up the leftovers and put the dishes in the dishwasher. I follow the dogs out into the outdoor courtyard, letting the snow and the cold weather blow over my face to chase away the unease of what we need to talk about, which is a lot. I feel sick trying to explain why I did what I did with each of them makes me ill, but then I see Marco’s face, and I remember why I’m here.
Turning around, I see them both watching. They don’t hide what they’re doing, and if I’m honest—like really, really, honest—I’m overjoyed and overwhelmed they’re here. Except, if I give myself that kind of luxury, the guilt I feel just by thinking that eats away at me. My thoughts get darker, and I start wondering what would happen to them if the Russians find out they’re not really my bodyguards, what would happen if my father found out. The questions get more absurd the longer I try to figure out what to do. In short, I spiral.
One thing I do know is, I can’t stay out here avoiding them forever. I don a lot of the traits I adopt when I’m working, shutting down my emotions and breaking down tasks into smaller, easier-to-achieve goals.
I call the dogs and walk back inside. On the way through, I check in on the man in the rug. His eyes are glazed over, and his face is ashen.
“I gave him some water before.” Kade says. The lack of emotion in his voice affirms my sentiment that we’ve done enough for the man.
Sitting back down, I twist around, so my back presses against the wall and I can put my feet on the spare chair next to me. It’s adeliberate move, to keep everyone where they were. I don’t need Santiago sitting so close to me that all I can smell is his warm amber scent and feel his Alpha presence like a touch on my skin.
“Why are you here?” I ask both.
“Our last interaction didn’t end right,” Santiago says.
“No shit,” I snap back, before a wave of regret slams into me. “I’m sorry, that was rude. Let’s just stick to you explaining why you’re here.”
“I’d like the chance to introduce myself properly.”
Interestingly, he doesn’t thrust his hand out; nor does he drop any influence in his request to make it a command.
“I want to know why you are here,” I reiterate, slowing my words, getting firmer in the tone I use, trying hard not to get screechy.
Santiago leans forward, using the back of a chair to do it. It’s not a show of dominance, but it’s not a casual gesture, either. “How do you know Victor Hernandez?”
I look away from him, down to the table, and take a moment to reset. I really don’t want to come across as bitchy, but I also can’t afford to be a pushover, not here.
“No. You don’t keep asking me questions. You either answer mine, or we’re done.” I manage to keep my wits about me when I look into his eyes. It’s no easy task; he’s a powerful Alpha, but he’s also my scent match, blessed with wicked good looks.
