Eric drove with his hands steady on the wheel, and Adria tried to concentrate on the passing trees and the scent of lavender filling the cab. Her entire world had changed in such a short span of time. This time last year, she had spent her drives worrying about a land deal and her mother. Now the land deal, once central to her every thought, was the last thing on her mind. Instead, her thoughts were filled with all things Winters. Bryson, Kaydon, Seth, and now Callen. What was he up to? What had he done for the Nine that was promotion-worthy? Adria knew it wasn’t the land deal, because X had assured her the property still sat vacant.
She was so preoccupied that she almost missed the dark sedan that sat at the end of her driveway.
“Wait here,” Eric said.
It had been a long trip home, and after everything that had happened, Adria had every intention of staying in the car and letting Eric handle it. Except as soon as Eric put the car in park, the door of the green sedan swung open and a large man with a gray beard exited.
Maxim.
Adria was out of the vehicle before Eric opened his door. Stomping down the drive, she could hear Eric tailing behind her, muttering under his breath.
Something about how is he supposed to protect her if she never listens.
Ignoring him, Adria set her sights on the bearded, bald man in front of her. Stopping just shy of his personal space, placing her hands on her hips.
“Maxim, I expressly remember telling you and about a hundred others that I never wanted to see you again,” Adria said, heels digging into the gravel. “What do you want?”
His calm smile was hard to ignore. It was too calm, too casual. After her father had died, she fired everyone.
Every single soul.
Firing wasn’t something that usually happened in the Nine. Normally you were in or you were dead.
“Adria, it’s good to see you. You look,” he gestured with his hand up and down “so grown up.”
Adria just stood there, hands on her hips. She wasn’t in the habit of asking twice.
Maxim cleared his throat. “Can we speak inside?”
He looked the same. Straight out of her memories. Muscles filled out his large frame, which strained against his white shirt. The only sign that time had passed was the white hairs in his beard touching the BJR and Ram tattoo on his neck.
“We can speak here. I don’t invite strangers into my home.”
There was that smile again.
“I’m not exactly a stranger. I still have the brand,” he responded, absent-mindedly touching his chest.
As far as Adria was concerned, Eric was the only branded member of her staff. Anyone else was her father’s, not hers.
“We can speak here or not at all,” she answered.
Maxim glanced over her shoulder, no doubt clocking Eric’s presence for the first time. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, considering his words, or having difficulty saying them.
Adria inwardly rolled her eyes. Maybe she should have invited him in, just to get this conversation over with.
“You probably know that I work for the FBI now,” he said, his voice softer. Lower.
“I’m aware.” Adria had kept tabs on all of them. How he got a job at the FBI, with the Federov tattoos snaking up his neck, she had no idea.
He nodded, as if this information didn’t surprise him.
“When I left,” he said.
“You were fired,” Adria said.
He raised an eyebrow. “When I was fired. I left this life behind. I put the bad guys behind bars now.”
“Legally,” he amended.
