“That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.”
“Probably. But it's my decision.”
“Your decision is going to get you killed.”
“Maybe. But it's still mine to make.” He squeezed my hand. “I'm not running from this, Troy. I'm not hiding while you and your people figure out who wants you dead. I'm staying. And if that makes me a target, then at least I'll see them coming.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was being an idiot. That pride wasn't worth dying over. That Luka knew what he was doing and we should listen.
But I could see the determination in his eyes. The same look he'd had when he decided to keep me after my mother died. The same look he'd had when he refused to give up on me no matter how hard I pushed.
“You're really not going to budge on this.”
“No.”
“Even if Dmitri tries to convince you?”
“Even then.”
I leaned my head back against the cabinet. “Luka's going to be pissed.”
“He can be pissed. It's my house. My life. My choice.”
“Your funeral too if this goes wrong.”
“Then I'll die in my own home instead of some safe house I've never seen.”
Before I could respond, I heard a car pull up outside. The engine cut and a door slammed with force.
“That's him.”
Footsteps on the walkway, fast and purposeful. Then pounding on the door.
“Troy! It's Dmitri! Open up!”
I got up and stayed low. I made it to the door and unlocked it.
Dmitri pushed inside like a hurricane, all controlled energy and barely contained urgency. His eyes swept the interior, found me, then landed on Declan.
“Blyat, Troy, are you trying to get killed?” He grabbed me, pulled me into a bear hug that lifted me off my feet. “I leave you alone for not even a month and someone is shooting at you already?”
“Good to see you too, Dmitri.”
He set me down with a grin that was all teeth. “You look like shit. Who beat your face?”
“Long story.”
“Is always long story with you.” His gaze went back to Declan, still sitting on the floor by the cabinets. Then his eyes tracked between us, taking in the tension, the way we were sitting close, reading the body language. A slow grin spread across his face. “Ah. I see. This is the stepfather?”
“Fucking hell, Dmitri.” My face went hot. “That's Declan.”
Dmitri crossed the kitchen with easy confidence. He offered his hand to Declan with a smile that was all charm and zero professionalism. “I am Dmitri Volkov. Is pleasure to meet you. Troy has mentioned you before, though he left out the interesting details.”
Declan took his hand warily. “Declan Kane.”
“Yes, I know. Troy talks about you when he is drunk.” Dmitri pulled him to his feet easily, like he weighed nothing. “You are very handsome in person. Pictures do not do you justice.”
“Pictures?” Declan looked at me with raised eyebrows.
