The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(64)

“Nyet—No.”

What he really wanted was to be alone, calm his chaotic thoughts on his own, but a smaller part of him was glad she was there. No…he needed to be glad someone was there, not just because it was Alex.

“What are you doing out here?”

She was dressed in one of those dresses of hers, though as of late, they were all starting to get shorter. He would have liked to think he didn’t notice, but he did, and he wasn’t ashamed of it.

“Waiting for you.”

She gave him a small smile, making his eyebrow arch up as he took a long drag from his cigarette. “Yea?”

With a hitch of her shoulder, she came forward, close enough that he could smell the warm scent of whatever perfume she was wearing, but not enough that she was actually touching him. Plucking the cigarette from his mouth, she put it between her lips, not looking away from him as she took a drag, uncaring that blood stained the filter.

Yep, they were all f*cking insane.

“Since you’re not doing your I’m-about-to-do-murder face, I assume you found out what I’d already told you.”

He nodded once. “I did.”

“Then I’ll make myself scarce for a while. I’m sure you have to plot the downfall of my mother.”

She waved her hand as though that meant little to her, but Luka knew differently. She dropped her gaze from his, looking just past him to the nearly empty street, save a few pedestrians walking by.

“She is going to die regardless,” Luka said honestly, even as she flinched at his cold words. “Anya may not know it, but Jetmir thinks only of himself, and when his back is against the wall, he would sacrifice anyone to stay alive.”

Alex dropped the cigarette, grinding it out with the toe of her heel. “Seems counterintuitive, don’t you think? I mean, Mish thinks he’s ready to go to war for his brother.”

“Because he wasn’t the one to do it—and of course the whole twin thing.”

“So you do think the Albanians are planning something?”

“I know.”

“Fucking great.”

Luka tried not to be amused as Alex muttered about ‘needing a drink.’ “You should get going.”

“Oh?” She canted her head to the side, a dangerous light entering her eyes. “Not gonna carry me back inside? Since, you know, you’re good at that.”

He was tempted. “Not tonight.”

“Are you sure?” She reached for him with dainty fingers, trailing them over his bicep, down to his forearm where she followed the veins that stood out in his skin. “That wasn’t what you said last time.”

He smiled down at her, trying to remember why this was a bad idea, that promise he had made to her, but when he readied to answer her, Luka heard the slightest movement in the alley that made him go on alert.

He knew who it was, had been waiting for him to approach since Lauren had asked him for help.

“You should get going,” Luka said.

Whether she heard the warning in his voice, or was just done playing with him, Alex left him there, but not before she stretched up to kiss his cheek.

At another time, he might have stopped her from leaving, but his attention was focused on the mercenary lurking in the darkness. Luka already knew what this was about.

Besides the others, Luka was the only one that hadn’t been surprised that Mishca had a brother. They had already met.

“Imagine my surprise finding you here,” Klaus said walking forward, his arms folded across his chest as he stared Luka down.

There was no smartass remark Luka could come up with, not when facing off with Klaus. He had every reason to hate the Albanians, even more than Mishca did, but what Mishca didn’t know was that Luka had been directly involved with what the Albanians had done to Klaus.

“I heard you were taken prisoner by Syrians in eastern Egypt,” said Luka.

“Just a rumor.”

Luka tried to take inventory of the number of weapons Klaus carried. There was the 9mm at the small of his back, knives strapped to his arms, but it was the weapons that Luka couldn’t see that worried him.

“Why are you really here?” He asked Klaus.

“You’re a shitty tracker. Word got back to me that the Russians were hunting me, so,”—he shrugged one massive shoulder—“I tracked you. Does he know about you?”

Before Luka could utter a word, Klaus had his hand wrapped around his throat, thrusting him back until he was pressed against the brick wall. “Does he know you tortured me?”

“Vse my raby nashikh masterov, net?—We are all slaves to our masters, no?”

“I’ve spent years putting each and every one of you in the ground.”

And now would be the perfect time, Luka thought. It wasn’t like Alex had actually seen Klaus, Mishca would assume the Albanians had done it.

“One thing before you kill me,” Luka said holding up a finger.

Obliging him, Klaus actually stepped back a few inches, giving Luka room to do whatever he intended. Begrudgingly, Luka had to admire the confidence in which Klaus moved about, like he had no reason to fear what Luka might do.

But he did see Klaus’ finger twitch when he went for the edge of his shirt, drawing it up, then tugging on the edge of his jeans, making sure Klaus could see the full extent of the tattoo on his hip.