Page 64 of Enemy of the Heart

She blows out a breath and turns in my arms. “Alright, we’ll discuss it over dinner, which will be ready in ten minutes.”

Louhi

Jeesus Kristus. I’m an excellent cook. I lift another bite of juicy lamb chops into my mouth, barely resisting a moan. The glazed peas were the perfect pairing.

Sean and Mercer are having some sort of standoff, their glares locked across the dining table. I meet a pair of liquid honey eyes, and he smirks around the mouth of his beer bottle.

“So…” Jace starts and quirks an eyebrow, and I wonder what the bloody fuck might fall from his lips next. “Are we planning to stay here forever, Lou, or what?”

I flick my gaze to my brother, who lifts his fork to his mouth. Mercer and I have discussed this, but I haven’t told the other two blokes about my plan. I really don’t want to leave before he’s healed a bit more. He chews slowly and methodically. Must he be so dramatic?

“We can probably leave in the next few days.” I tilt my head toward Mercer, looking for confirmation.

He breaks his stare with Sean and fastens his attention on me. After a beat, he nods. “I just need to hear back from…”

“The Shadows,” I finish for him. His eyes flare and jaw tics. Sorry, brother.

If Sean and Jace are to be in our lives, Mercer needs to realize he can trust them. That starts with his job. There’s plenty he can share without compromising the integrity of the secret organization.

Sean had a valid point about knowing whether we’ve been compromised. I will not be going back to prison.

The two best friends glance between us, and when my brother remains silent, I explain, “Mercer is a mercenary for an underground revolutionary group.”

Mercer’s an anomaly. He does bad things for a good reason. I can’t say the same.

“Lou,” my brother warns, his voice dropping several octaves. The threat doesn’t intimidate me. I lift my glass of incredibly rare, expensive Bordeaux. So much for a peaceful, uneventful meal.

“Is that what’s all over your wall?” Sean asks.

It’s safe to say that whatever his assignment is, is what landed him in prison. When Mercer doesn’t answer, I push, “What’s your current job?”

Everything is related to The Shadows where my brother is concerned. Which is why his next two words nearly have me falling out of my chair.

“Conall McQuaid.”

I choke on my sip of wine. My throat burns as I cough into my napkin. Surely, I heard him wrong. What would The Shadows want with one of my best friends? That’s absurd. Conall launders money through the shipment of luxury cars and real estate. Although, I suppose someone could’ve taken a hit out on him out of revenge. But why hire a revolutionary group for that instead of someone like me?

“What? You can’t be serious!”

I glance at Sean to gauge his reaction, but I wish I hadn’t. There’s nothing there but firm, unwavering confirmation. No, this isn’t right. I shouldn’t have dismissed Sean when he asked if I saw Mercer’s bedroom.

Just then, there’s a knock on the door, and Sean is on his feet with a Glock in his hand in less than five seconds. He strides out of the room with Jace on his heels. My gut isn’t screaming at me, though, so I continue to gawk at my brother. It’s only when Viktor’s voice roars through the dacha that Mercer meets my eye for the first time since dropping that bombshell.

“All you had to do was send me a text, Louhi.”

“Why are you here, Vik?” I call back, still scrutinizing irises the same color as mine.

“You were supposed to let me know when you made it. You didn’t, so I had to come ensure that you weren’t de—” His words fall off the face of the earth as he enters the dining area. “Mercer?”

I relax in my seat as Sean settles into his seat next to me. Viktor enters the kitchen and returns with a wineglass and a chair. He drapes his black wool coat over the back, then pours himself a glass of Bordeaux. At ease like he’s lived here for years, he crosses one ankle over his knee, his polished dress shoes glinting in the warm light from the ancient chandelier. At this rate, the four bottles of wine I brought are going to disappear faster than me after completing a job.

As I take him in, his earlier words finally register. “Wait, you came all the way to Saratov to…check on me?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I thought I’d need to collect your bodies.”

“It’s only been about thirty-something hours, Vik. You’re an impatient mother hen.”

His dark blond eyebrows slant. “Hens are female.”