Page 76 of The Bratva Betrayal

"Right." I roll my eyes. "Keep up."

I think of them, privately, as Boulder and Smaller Boulder. Bould and SB for efficiency. Sullivan moves with the kind of confidence that assumes the room will adjust around him, while Flynn looks like he was told to be intimidating and took the assignment very seriously.

They flank me on the way to my car, but there’s already one waiting for me. A blacked-out SUV, courtesy of my father, and I feel my temper rise another notch.

No call.

No text.

No warning.

I instruct the driver where to take me and squeeze between Boulder and SB, fuming like a bomb about to go off.

In the elevator of Misha’s building, I ignore them.

I have a mess to fix and a bunch of damage to control to do here. I’ve thought of all the reasons to tell Misha why this is the worst idea ever.

What I haven’t figured out is why he agreed to it.

I'm fully expecting him when the door swings open, but the universe is refusing to give me the straightforward resolution I'm looking for.

Artem leans against the doorframe. Dark gray shirt, sleeves pushed to the elbows, and an unhurried demeanor that makes me want to throw something at him.

He looks at me.

Then takes in Bould and SB with a slow, flat shift of his eyes from one to the other.

Bould and SB step back as I stare.

"You've got to be joking," I mutter when Artem steps aside.

I step inside before either of my new shadows can follow. I close the door behind me and turn around.

He's looking at me the way he always looks at me. Like I'm a problem he finds mildly entertaining.

His gaze moves not-so-subtly over me once, from the top of my head to my heels and back up again, taking in my pink floral dress.

"Makarov," I say.

“Lisichka.” He moves toward the kitchen. "Misha's not here."

“Where is he?”

“Don’t know.”

"I need to speak with him. It’s urgent.”

"He's not here," Artem repeats.

That’s a red flag.

If Misha is out, he’s out with someone, and he hasn’t been home since last night.

“How long will he be?”

Instead of answering, Artem moves to the counter and pours a cup of coffee.

I know he’s not used to women showing up at his door, mildly furious and flanked by two bodyguards.