Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(71)

“Exactly what I already told you. You’re going to keep coming back here. I’m going to keep letting you. And that makes us something. Answer me, please.”

“There’s no one else,” she said, letting the confession slip out before she could think better of it.

Kaz straightened on the stool, his smug grin firmly back in place. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Perfect,” he said.

She didn’t quite know what to think as he picked up his fork and began eating again. But she couldn’t deny that his intentions were entirely too appealing.





Kaz understood far too well how quickly things could change—because of a look, a conversation, or even a thought. He shouldn’t have been surprised that it happened to him and Violet, not when he knew better.

Yet, ever since their conversation over breakfast, everything had changed.

Over the span of two weeks, Kaz had made sure that he always made time for Violet, no matter when she reached out. It could have been mid-afternoon, the wee hours of the morning, and occasionally when he was in the middle of a meeting, it didn’t matter. He kept his phone at his side like a lifeline, never letting it out of his sight.

“You’ve been busy a lot, Cap,” Abram commented, glancing over at Kaz from his position in the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t often that Kaz let anyone drive him—most people were shit drivers in his opinion—but Abram refused to let anyone else behind the wheel of his truck. Besides, he wasn’t letting the man in his own, not when Violet was regularly riding in it, and while they were careful, there was still no guarantee that she hadn’t left some small trace of her presence.

“Oh?” Kaz didn’t want to indulge in the conversation, but if there was one thing he knew, if Abram asked any questions, somebody else had asked them first.

“Yeah.”

“I have better shit to do than to sit around asking about things that don’t concern me,” Kaz responded absently, his mind elsewhere.

Abram, now smiling, looked back to the road. “You see, my guess is, it’s a woman. You seem like the type to keep that kind of thing pretty hush.”

Were they really having this conversation? “Then why are you asking?”

“Can’t hurt to try. Never be afraid to ask questions you want answers to—someone once told me that.”

Kaz, feeling the beginnings of a migraine coming on, counted backward from ten in his head. “I told you that, Abram.”

He snapped his fingers. “Of course you did.”

“Just park the f*cking car so we can get this done.”

“So about—”

“Fuck off, Abram.”

The man had no shame, laughing even as he swung the truck into a smooth parallel park. Kaz was out in seconds, crossing the short distance into the restaurant owned by a good friend of his—Abram stayed behind to watch his truck.

The restaurant was located just a few miles outside of Little Odessa, and was one of the few places outside of his circle that he frequented on a semi-regular basis. He was a friend of the family—not a part of the Bratva however—that dabbled in trade. If a person needed something from another, he was the man to go to.

Kaz strolled inside, stopping at the podium where a young woman was standing, a microphone wrapped around the shell of her ear. Her gaze shifted to his left, and he realized a moment later that she was listening to someone speaking on the other end.

Then, she smiled at him, gesturing to a hallway off to the side. “Mr. Shelby will see you in his office.”

There were cameras set up all around the restaurant, undetectable to anyone that wasn’t looking for them. Alfred Shelby—or just Alfie, depending on his mood—was a careful man by nature, and his restaurant was no exception.

Kaz rapped his knuckles against the solid oak door at the end of the hall, stepping back so the guard he knew was waiting on the other side could get a good look at him. Once the door was open, and Kaz was inside, he smiled at one of his oldest associates.

“How’s business?”

Alfie Shelby was a bull of a man, standing as tall as Kaz but much wider all around. His hair was short, but wavy, and he had the coldest eyes Kaz had ever encountered, like whatever switch he had on his emotions was always turned off.

“Not bad,” Alfie said reclining back in his seat, folding massive arms across his chest. “Not bad at all. I guess I have you to thank for that.”

Kaz waved his words away. “A favor between friends. Let’s not speak on it.”

Alfie just stared at him, seeming to gauge the sincerity of his words, before he nodded to the chairs in front of his desk. “Go on, have a seat.”

Alfie waited until Kaz did just that before he spoke. “Your father won’t bend on our little issue.”

Yeah, Kaz had been afraid of that. His father liked to believe he knew what was best for the organization—that was his due as Pakhan—but he still had the mindset of the generations before him, where the Bratva didn’t indulge in business with outsiders.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

That was the best he could give, and that was probably more than he should have. If his Pakhan dismissed a new arrangement, that was meant to be the end of it, and if Vasily knew that Kaz had known about the meeting in the first place, that wouldn’t go over well.