The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(53)

“Right, but he’s not dead.” At the confused look on Lauren’s face, he explained, “Look at the angle. The shot was clean, very little interference and he would have accounted for wind speed before he got up here.”

“Okay…what are you saying?”

“Something’s not right.”

“So he wasn’t trying to kill Mishca? He missed on purpose?”

“Looks that way.”

“But what was the point?”

Klaus got a curious gleam in his eye, one that Lauren didn’t particularly like, but before she could call him on it, he was rushing her out the building and to his car.

“This,” he said as he pulled them out onto the street, “just got a lot more interesting.”



“Bullshit.”

Mishca wasn’t taking what Klaus had to say very well. Since they returned, Lauren had been trying to keep their arguing to a minimum, but they were like fire and ice, and there was nothing she could do to break them apart.

“Oh right,” Klaus retorted, eyeing Mishca like he was the bane of his existence. “Because you’re such an expert on f*cking rifles. Tell me your qualifications again?”

“Doesn’t matter. You can’t know that for sure.”

“Again. How would you know anything, you entitled little shit?”

“Fine!” Mishca barked, taking a seat across from. “Enlighten me.”

“They only missed your heart by an inch at the most. The shot was clean, hardly any wind that day, and zero obstruction from the other rooftop. Therefore, you lived, only because you weren’t the target.”

“But that doesn’t make Lauren the target.”

“According to my contact, she is.”

Lauren and Mishca both looked at Klaus expectantly, waiting for him to continue. She did remember him on his phone when they arrived back, but since he was texting, she had no idea who he was talking to.

And this was the reason they had been arguing. Once Klaus suggested that there might have been more to it than just wounding Mishca, then outright saying that they were probably after Lauren and were trying to get Mishca out of the way to make it easier, Mishca didn’t like the sound of that.

“But even if that’s right,” Lauren said, “why would they shoot Mishca? It wasn’t like I was going to leave Mishca in the hospital by himself.”

“They assumed Mishca would have sent you away—you’d be safer without him. Probably didn’t think you would hover over him every second of the day. With him out of the picture, you’d be easy enough to deal with, even with the mediocre help the Russian has watching you. I mean, that’s what I would have done.”

“Never mind that,” Mishca chimed in. “What are you going to do about it?”

“We use her as bait,” Klaus said.

“Are you deliberately trying to f*ck with me?” Mishca asked, a warning in his eyes.

Lauren prepared to jump in, thinking to give her input of what they should do, but there was no use trying to jump in between an argument between two brothers…not when there was unaddressed animosity between them.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Mishca narrowed his eyes on him, the look he had promising pain. “Nyet. I’m not allowing her to go in there alone.”

“Ooh, hard no. I’m f*cking shitting myself cause of your grammar. Calm your shit, I’ll be there.”

That didn’t seem to make Mishca feel any better.

Rolling his eyes, Klaus collapsed back on the couch, propping his booted foot up on the table. Any time Mishca knocked it down, he just put it back up. At this point, he didn’t even try anymore.

“She’s my employer, what does that tell you? I won’t let her get hurt.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“Then what the f*ck do you suggest?” Klaus asked dryly. “Wait for the merc to knock on the front door? I’ve actually done that once or twice, but as much as I like to test my abilities, it’s not as easy as it sounds. Either way, if you want this to go away, you’ll do it.”

“I still don’t like it.” But Mishca sounded less sure now.

“You don’t have to like it, but you know I’m right.”





“God,” Klaus muttered, loosening the tie Lauren had just straightened, “how does he wear these monkey suits?”

Lauren laughed, noticing just how awkwardly Klaus was standing as he fidgeted with his clothes. He actually looked uncomfortable and the sight of his distress made her wonder if he ever wore a suit.

“I always think he looks nice,” she replied good-naturedly, batting his hands away as she straightened the tie again.

He rolled his eyes but stood still. “Of course you do. Maybe he needs to take that stick out his ass.”

“I assume there’s no point in arguing on that with you. Anyway, I think this look suits you, not just because you look like Mish.”

“He only resembles me in appearance,” Mishca said entering the room, his eyes hard as he looked over at his brother. “No one would believe he was me for an instant if he opens his mouth.”

Smiling menacingly, Klaus shot him a bird. “Didn’t seem to matter before, did it Russian?”