“You’ll be better after you train with us, though.”
“Yeah, your breakaways will be more explosive once you’ve been through Misha’s program.”
“And your hand-eye coordination and peripheral reflexes will get a lot better.”
“That breakaway you couldn’t put in the net against Thunder Bay last year…”
We shower and dress while the guys talk about my hockey career, how the training will help, and how they used to play when they were younger. All of them have different ideas to help me, and I can’t believe I only met them earlier today. I’m not sure why they’ve accepted me into the fold so quickly, but it feels damn nice to have a group to hang out with during the offseason.
Chapter 7
“It’s Week One.We knew we were stepping into a challenge. This is manageable.”
Glancing around the gaudy office that Ivan never got around to renovating, manageable is thelastword I would use to describe my task.Take over a bigger Bratva branch, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.Still, Misha has a point. It isn’t like me to be flustered like this over minor inconveniences.Although I haven’t had a lifestyle change this monumental since…
“If it would make you feel better, I can make the renovation of your main suite of rooms my priority and knock it out within a couple of weeks.”
“Your priority list is already too long. Integrating the men we brought into the existing structure here without rufflingfeathers, building rapport with the house staff, gathering intel on any bad apples that need to be weeded out—”
“Making breakfast for stray hockey players you collect.”
I swivel my desk chair back around to see a smirk on my best friend’s face. “You made Thatcher breakfast?”
“Mm-hmm. My famous pancakes. I was bonding with Kirill. I think you’re right, by the way, that he’s a high-potential guy who’s been underutilized. Your instincts are still sharp, even in your old age.”
“Mention me turning forty next year again, and see what happens. I don’t know how many more scars your face can handle before the women stop finding you devilishly handsome.”
“Infinite scars, moya tsaritsa. The answer is always infinite scars when it comes to looking dangerously sexy to attract women. Besides, these days, handsome doesn’t even matter. Have you seen the books the women are reading? Minotaurs, snakes,doors—”
“Doors?”
“Doors. So I think with my height and my substantial co—”
“Okay, you win.Please.I don’t need to hear about anything that’s substantial, other than your ego. Tell me more about your fucking Brady Brunch breakfast with Thatcher.”
“Not too much to say, really. The kid seems a little lost.”
“I don’t know if he’s a kid. I mean, he’s twenty-five—”
“That’s fifteen years!” Misha dodges a stapler I launch at his head, barely missing yet another scar. “But I stand by it. Lost. He had a good training session with the guys. I don’t think we’ll have too many to cull, to be honest. The group overall has a few cliques, but they seem centered around hobbies and whether the individual is single or married with kids. Nothing prevents them all from working effectively across subgroups. I don’t think we’ll have to separate any units that currently operate together.”
“Hmm. He trained with them?”
“I love thatthat’sthe first question you have after hearing the intel I’ve been working so hard on.” My death glare, which has made grown men piss themselves, has just as little effect as ever on Misha as he laughs. “But yes, he did well. He seemed happy to bask in the camaraderie. Maybe we can keep him around, poach him from the hockey team. Not sure he can fire a gun, but we can always—”
“Eeeeeeeeee!”
A screech interrupts us, gone as quickly as it began. The office overlooks the backyard and the forest beyond, but I’ve had the curtains closed all day. Drawing them reveals exactly why I was afraid to let a party-crazy hockey player into my house.
The sloping lawn leading to the pool is covered in black tarps, which are sudsed up into the biggest slip and slide I’ve ever seen. Speakers come to life, blaring house music, and what looks like fifty men are in swim trunks, either in the pool or in line for the slide. Someone’s manning the massive grill in the outdoor kitchen, and a table is being set up for beer pong.
Misha approaches and leans over my shoulder to look out before guffawing loudly in my ear.
“Youhaveto be joking. This isn’t funny! I told him not to go outside, and I told him no parties.”
“Did you specify not to go outsidethe house? Or did you leave it open to interpretation? Maybe he thought you meant not to go outside the property.”
“What kind of idiot would need that spelled out for him?”
