Page 29 of Every Last Breath

Cole’s regret at losing a chance to hug his mother once more was another on a mounting pile.

“I caught a glimpse of you at the funeral.” Ilya slid his hands into his silk pockets. “Knew it was you, even at a distance with that beautiful face hidden behind a helmet.”

The sarcasm cut deep, but Cole met his brother’s eyes with unflinching coldness.

“Vitali! Bring us some coffee,” Ilya said, averting his gaze.

“Is your guest going to grace us with his presence long enough for coffee?” the old man sneered from the hall.

“No.” Cole threw the word like a dagger.

“Pssh.” Always willing to play with fire, Ilya waved a dismissive hand. “He stays for coffee.” He pranced around the room as if he were a king. “So, are you back to take your place at my side?”

Cole folded his arms across his chest. “I’d rather shit glass.”

Ilya threw his head back with a grating laugh, the noise shredding the air. “Kolya, you always had a flair for the dramatic. All those people you gutted nine years ago. Come on, bratik.” He called him brother in Russian. “You have to admit, that was pretty dramatic.”

Not once had Cole ever shed blood because he enjoyed it. Violence wasn’t imprinted in his DNA like it was for Ilya. Their father had been gunned down for something he didn’t do. A bull’s-eye had been smeared on the rest of their backs—including Maddox. Not a day went by he didn’t think about the blood on his hands. Taking lives to protect those he loved was the second hardest thing he’d ever done.

Leaving Maddox behind to keep her safe topped his list.

For Ilya to joke about it sickened him. He shot a warning glare at his brother.

Ilya held up his hands, feigned self-reproach painting his slim face. “Don’t get me wrong, it was necessary. I owe you my life. You did what no one else would’ve been able to and in a very short amount of time. When you get pissed, watch out.”

Ilya threw a one-two punch in the air, hopping on the balls of his feet. “A force to be reckoned with. My crooked nose is a daily reminder.” Ilya tapped the indentation of the bridge that slanted to the left. “Unbelievable. You broke my nose in front of Momma over that bitch, Maddox.”

Those sloppy words lit a primal fuse in Cole and he strained not to detonate. “Watch your damn mouth. You’re not good enough to speak her name.”

Ilya rolled his eyes, flashing a tight-lipped grin. “That piece of ass still gets you worked up? She came to see me after you died, asking if you were truly dead. I enjoyed consoling her.”

Cole charged across the room. Ilya staggered back, his smile faltering. Cole snatched his brother by the robe’s lapels, slamming him into a ficus, smacking his head against the glass. Ilya stood taller by an inch, with a muscular frame, but there’d never been a contest between them in this department.

Fury whipped white-hot through Cole, constricting his thoughts into laser focus. “Did you touch her?” Cole shook his brother, hoping to knock some decency into his head. Why hadn’t Maddox mentioned she’d gone to see him? “Did you lay a finger on her?”

A vile grin spread across Ilya’s mouth. Cole cocked his fist and punched the smirk off his face.

Ilya yelped, throwing his hands up. “Shit, bratik! I didn’t touch your fucking pizda.”

Cole nearly collapsed from the profound relief. Ilya hadn’t hurt Maddox, and Cole didn’t have to butcher his mother’s firstborn. Maddox was capable of kicking Ilya’s ass, but Ilya was the type of disgusting lowlife who would’ve had others hold her down for him.

“Breaking your nose obviously didn’t teach you the fucking lesson. If you call her a bitch, piece of ass, pizda”—cunt in Russian—“or anything else disrespectful, I’ll break your jaw so it’ll be wired shut.”

A tortured expression stamped Ilya’s face. “Want to know why I never liked her?”

Cole jammed his fist under his brother’s chin, against his windpipe. “I know. You’re a prejudiced bastard.”

Ilya snorted a laugh that curled up and died in his chest. “I see you. So clearly. Yet you don’t know me at all, Kolya. It was never about the color of her skin.”

“Bullshit. You said the vilest things. After I smashed your face in and broke your nose, you screwed every whore with a shade of brown skin just so you could talk about what you did to them and make your sick implications.” How his brother had run through prostitutes to ensure his gross point hit home had disgusted him.

Cole’s fists shook at the recollection, acid eating at his stomach. He jostled Ilya, knocking his head against the glass wall. “Did you think time would erase my memory?”

“I thought you’d end it with her if I got deep enough under your skin.” Ilya tilted his head and his gaze fell.

“I loved her.” Clenching his jaw, Cole shoved him. The glass vibrated like it might break. “Why would you do that?”

Ilya’s eyes sliced up to his. “If her father had been a gangster instead of some white-collar Dudley Do-Right from suburbia, I would’ve embraced her like a sister.”