“Nova?”
“Sorry.” I turned back to the phone. Vesper had reappeared, sitting up in bed with her duvet pulled up under her chin. “Okay. This goes no further than the two of you. I guess I’ll start with the moment things between me and Jay changed. Remember my eighteenth birthday, when I told you Anton was my first kiss? I…I lied. My first kiss happened earlier that night, during a chase in the woods…”
24
JAY
The security guy came to a stop outside the same concrete building I’d visited with Dan—the one that housed the fighting cage. Unlike last time, the door was open, a wall of sound hitting me as I stepped inside.
The tiered seating was mostly full, packed with men in suits intently focused on the action in the cage. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the space, combined with grunts from the sparring combatants and the calls from the crowd. It was hot and smoky even at the top of the stairs, close to the open door, and I inched backwards to suck in a breath of fresher air from the outside.
“Attwood.”
I turned to the tall, broad figure who had appeared next to me. Like the majority of the others inside, he was wearing a dark suit, his expression as impassive as always.
“Volkov,” I said.
He jerked his head to the left. “Follow me.”
We ended up in a section I hadn’t noticed during my first visit. It was a small area, taking up five of the tiered rows,and slightly raised above the surrounding seating. The section contained several pairs of black leather armchairs with a small round table between each pair. Volkov seated himself in one of the two free chairs at the top and indicated for me to take the other. Almost instantly, a woman appeared next to him. He held up two fingers, and she inclined her head gracefully before stepping backwards.
She returned just a few moments later, bearing a silver tray from which she took two shot glasses brimming with clear liquid, placing them on the table between us. The shots were followed by a glass ashtray, and finally, she held out the silver tray to me.
I took in the remaining items—an open pack of cigarettes and a cigar in an open wooden box—and shook my head. “No, thank you. I don’t smoke.”
Volkov waved his hand, and she disappeared again. “Good,” he said.
“Huh?”
“That you don’t smoke.”
“Uh, yeah. I mean, I smoke weed sometimes, but nothing else.”
“Good. I smoke nothing.” His nose wrinkled, and it was such a human gesture for him that I couldn’t help staring. “It is popular with my people, but I never understood the attraction.”
“Yeah. Why are we here?”
He hummed. “Several reasons. Are you enjoying the fight?”
Considering I’d only spared the cage a brief glance, I couldn’t give him a truthful answer. My gaze followed his to the cage, to the two bare-chested opponents who were circling one another. I frowned. One of them looked familiar.
“Who’s fighting?”
His lips kicked up at the corners. “My uncle Igor is the one in blue. The other…his name is irrelevant, as you will find out.”
Based on the way the hulking man in blue was now savagely pummelling the other, I deduced that Volkov was correct. What the fuck was happening? Why had he insisted on meeting me here, of all places?
“Why am I here?” I said.
Volkov didn’t bother looking at me, leaning forwards in his seat. He picked up one of the shot glasses and tapped his finger against the other. “Drink up, and I will tell you a story.”
Fucking cryptic, dramatic bastard. Swiping the vodka from the table, I steeled myself before tipping it to my lips and downing the shot. I licked my lips, surprised.
“That was?—”
“Good. Yes. Very smooth. This is from Ryker’s new line. Did he tell you I gifted him his own line of vodka for his birthday, to do with as he wished? No? Hmm…I suppose he’s been preoccupied with other matters. The ship that was supposed to be intercepted—it was carrying his cargo, among others.”
“Fuck,” I muttered.
