"Kon?" The name tastes foreign on my tongue, heavy with threat. "Who is Kon? One of your murderers for hire?"
Drake turns to face me, and something in his expression shifts. The hardness softens, just slightly, around the edges. "He's going to sit outside your apartment and make sure Victor doesn't show up to put a bullet in your head out of spite for what I did to him tonight."
The words take a moment to penetrate the fog of fear and fury clouding my brain.
"What you did to him?" I repeat slowly. When he goes to walk away from me, I place a hand on his arm. He stops, turns to me and for all of three solid heartbeat, I see the real man under the cold mask he’s worn since stepping into my apartment. A man made of flesh and bone. Of love and hate. Of pride, yes, but of desire to protect those weaker than him.
And then the coldness is back and Drake Moses removes his arm from my touch.
"What did you do?" I ask again, firmer this time.
"I walked into his restaurant and publicly humiliated him in front of his clients and his employees."
Drake's voice carries no regret and definitely no remorse. "I broke several of his men and made it clear that you belong to me now, not to him. Victor Kedrov is not a man who takes that kind of embarrassment lightly. Until you're under my protection, you're vulnerable."
I splay a hand over my quivering midriff. The puzzle pieces of this entire encounter all fit together now and I feel like a babbling idiot.
"Oh."
The word escapes me in a small exhale, all the fight draining out of my body as the implications of what he's saying settle into my bones. Victor knows. Victor knows someone else has claimed me, has paid my debt, has taken away the leverage he's held over my family for five years.
And Victor is not going to let that stand without retaliation.
There’s only a half breath between us. His aura of energy brushes against mine and all I have to do is inhale deeply to feel the warmth of his body inside me.
He reaches for my hand and slips my palm over his. He turns my hand and places a kiss on the back. I don’t know what to do with that so instead of saying something that will put my foot firmly in my mouth, I hold his gaze and wisely stay silent.
“Be at Redthorne Holdings by eight tomorrow morning, Katriana." Drake slowly releases my hand, the warmth of his touch slowly fading as he moves toward the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob to look back at me over his shoulder. "Sharp. I don't do well with tardiness."
"And if I refuse?" The question is pure defiance, empty bravado that we both know means nothing.
Gray meets brown and the second our eyes lock, electricity passes between us that has my heart racing instantly.
"You won't."
With that, my new freaking mafia boss is gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click that sounds impossibly final in the silence he leaves behind.
I stand in the middle of my apartment, the bat still clutched in my hands, my heart pounding against my ribs like it's trying to break free. The scent of him lingers in the air, cedar and smoke and bourbon, mixing with the familiar mustiness of my home and transforming it into something foreign.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Gemma's name flashes across the screen, and I answer with fingers that won't stop trembling.
"Kat! Oh my god, you scared me half to death. What happened? Are you okay?"
"False alarm." The lie tastes sour on my tongue, but I can't tell her the truth. Not yet. Not until I understand it myself. "But... I feel like all my bad luck is about to change."
"What does that mean? Kat, you're freaking me out. Like good change or I need to raise bail money kind of change?"
Both, maybe.
"I'll explain later. I promise. Go back to sleep, Gem."
I end the call before she can argue and let the phone slip from my fingers onto the couch.
My eyes find the door Drake just walked through, the cheap wood and the crooked numbers and the locks that have never made me feel safe. My chin tingles where his fingers held me, with a phantom warmth that refuses to fade.
I stand alone in my small apartment, surrounded by the evidence of a life lived in survival mode, I realize that for the first time in a long time, I'm not afraid of Victor Kedrov showing up at my door.
I'm afraid of something else entirely.
