The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(79)

Klaus just blinked. “You think I speak Russian?”

Mishca rolled his eyes, looking like he was slowly losing his temper. “It might have crossed my mind.”

“You know,” Luka interjected—as he always did—propping his feet up on the table. “Since there’s that whole Russian blood thing you got going on.”

Rolling his eyes, Mishca pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, grappling for patience. Between the two of them, he didn’t know who irritated him more.

“Luka…”

“Yea, yea. I got it. Let’s go, Lauren. We’re no longer wanted.”

Mishca was thankful that she didn’t question him about it, though he didn’t doubt she would be asking him about this later, but by then, he would have thought of a plausible excuse to give her.

Klaus waited until it was only he and Mishca in the room before he addressed him. “What do you need that your lady can’t know?”

Mishca’s plan was essentially fool proof, and if they were successful, their problem would be solved, but one wrong step could potentially ruin them both.





With everything happening with Jetmir’s sudden appearance back in the state, it went from a time of relaxation and enjoyment from their trip out of the country, to constant vigilance. At one point, Mishca was a bit lax with security, letting Lauren go certain places on her own, but that went out the window the moment he left The Den.

Lauren tried to stay out of Mishca’s way, and not give him any more of a reason to worry about her, so instead of complaining about his high-handed behavior, she accepted it, knowing he only wanted to keep her safe.

There hadn’t been any more deaths since The Den—at least to Lauren’s knowledge. Since she hadn’t seen anything on the news, she hadn’t bothered asking Mishca about it. She did know, however, that the FBI was involved, no doubt because of the number of bodies, but she hadn’t thought it could have gotten much worse…at least until the next afternoon.

Lauren was laying in bed, wearing nothing but one of his button-ups as she surfed the web, Mishca’s head in her lap, resting his eyes as he called it. Occasionally, she would reach down with her free hand to weave her fingers through his hair.

He’d been so stressed lately that when he wasn’t answering calls or out in town, he stayed with her, just like this.

“Are the guys okay?” She asked, as she always did when he came back.

“Luka is as to be expected, the others are doing what they’re told, and Vlad is doing his job.”

“No casualties?”

Mishca’s phone chose that moment to ring, interrupting their comfortable conversation.

“As far as I know.”

He kissed the curve of her hip, reaching over to grab his phone. He frowned at the caller ID, but accepted the call anyway, putting the phone up to his ear. Lauren could just hear the person on the other end yelling, but they were too muffled to make out anything clearly, only that whatever the male voice was saying made Mishca tense beside her.

Without ever actually saying anything, he hung up the phone, leaving it on the bed as he hurried into the closet.

“Mish?” Lauren called. “What’s wrong?”

He came back out, jerking on a pair of pants, tossing a shirt and tie onto the bed. There was an almost anxious look about him that hadn’t been there previously. Also holding a pair of lounge pants, he tossed them at her. “Put these on.”

She didn’t argue with him even though she had no idea what was going on. She had no choice but to watch as he finished dressing, quickly grabbing his phone and turning it over. He removed the back, plucking out the battery to remove the SIM card. Tossing the other pieces on the bed, he broke the SIM card into pieces, then stepped into the bathroom and flushed what pieces were left.

He didn’t stop there, he went from room to room, shredding documents, burning others until there was nothing left but ash. By the time he reentered the bedroom, she was thoroughly freaked out.

“Mishca!”

He finally slowed down enough to face her. It was never easy reading him, even when he was being transparent with his thoughts and feelings, but this time, she had a sneaking suspicion as to what was happening.

There was only one reason why Mishca was destroy the memory to his phone.

“Who’s coming?” Lauren asked. “They were warning you, whoever called you on the phone.”

He sighed heavily, finally slowing down enough to give her answers. “Yes.”

“How much time do we have?”

Lauren didn’t realize she was shaking until he moved towards her, his hands drifting from her shoulders to her hands, grasping them. “Don’t worry.”

The ding of the elevator sounded, making Lauren’s gaze shoot to their closed bedroom door, then turning back to Mishca with wide eyes. They still had some time before the officers were there, but it wasn’t enough, not for Lauren.

“Don’t be scared,” he whispered as he kissed her quickly, taking a few steps back.

He’d left his jacket on the bed, and as the agents in tactical gear rushed in, assault rifles trained on them both, he held his hands up without a word, not dropping to his knees—not that the stars on them would allow him to. While a couple of the agents were watching her steadily, she knew they weren’t there for her.