No promises.
I set the phone down just as Dmitri came back with two mugs. He handed me one and dropped back onto the couch.
“He's okay?” Dmitri asked.
“Yeah. Made it to work safely.”
“Good. The security team is competent. They'll keep him safe.” He took a drink. “Luka and Ash should be here soon. They were thirty minutes out when I last checked.”
“How pissed is Luka?”
“On a scale of one to ten? Probably a fifteen.” Dmitri grinned. “You know how he gets when his people are in danger. Very protective. Very intense. Very Russian about it.”
“That's just great,” I muttered.
“It's fine. Ash will keep him calm. Mostly calm. Calm enough that he doesn't break things.” Dmitri's phone buzzed. He checked it. “They're ten minutes out. You should prepare yourself.”
“I've been interrogated before.”
“Not by Luka after someone puts a sniper on one of his people.” Dmitri set his mug down. “He is going to want to know what triggered the escalation. Then he is going to try to move you to the safe house. Then you are going to say no, and then it is going to get loud in here.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Just try not to fight with him too much. He's worried. That's why he's angry. You know this.”
I did know it. Had known it for years. Luka's anger was just fear wearing a sharper suit. But knowing that didn't make it easier to deal with when he was in my face.
A car pulled up outside. Doors opening. Voices. Then footsteps on the walkway.
Dmitri got up to let them in.
Luka walked through the door like he owned it. He was tall and sharp in a black suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, his hair pulled back tight, his expression carved out of ice. Ash followed behind him, quieter and softer around the edges despite the serious look on his face, dressed more casually in jeans and a dark sweater that made him look younger than he was.
“Troy.” Luka's gaze locked on me and ran a fast inventory. “You're alive.”
“Yeah. Disappointed?”
“Don't start.” He moved into the living room. Dmitri closed the door behind them and locked it. “My team had the report within ten minutes. Single shot, east-facing window, zero-six-forty.” He looked at me steadily. “I want to know what you saw from inside.”
I walked him through my side of it. Where I'd been standing. What I'd heard. The angle of the glass, where it landed, how far the shot had traveled before it hit the frame. Declan refusing to go to the safe house.
Luka's expression got darker with each detail.
“And Declan is at work right now,” he said when I finished.
“He has a business to run.”
“He has a death wish.” Luka pulled out his phone and started typing. “I'm putting more security on him. He doesn't get to be stubborn about this.”
“He's not going to like that.”
“I don't care what he likes. He's a target now, which means he gets protection whether he wants it or not.” He looked up at me. “And you're not leaving this house without Dmitri or one of my people. Understood?”
“I'm not a prisoner.”
“No. You're someone who almost got shot in his sleep this morning, which means you follow the protocols until we figure out who's behind this.” His voice went harder. “This isn't a suggestion, Troy. This is how we're doing this.”
The anger flared up immediately. “You don't get to come into Declan's house and start giving orders.”
