Savage Hearts (Queens & Monsters #3)(90)

He glares at me, and now I find myself having fun.

“And I suppose you’re Number One, right?”

“You know, I liked you better when you were only making a Broadway production out of pouring yourself a bloody coffee.”

“Who’s Number Two? Because that’s all sorts of awkward. Does everybody giggle during meetings when his name is called?”

I can tell he’s debating whether or not he should go ahead and kill me, and I can’t help but smile.

From across the store, Alina calls my name. “Your order’s ready!”

“That’s my cue, Number One. You realize you’ve nicknamed yourself piss, right? You’re the head urinator.”

“They only say that in the US.”

“No, everybody knows it.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Yes, they do.”

He grinds his teeth for a while, then stands. He shoves his sunglasses back onto his face and props his hands on his hips.

“Obviously, we’re not interested in you for your personality, because it’s shite. You’ve got skills we can use. Weaponry, technology, languages, disguises, critical thinking. It took me a long time to find you, which never happens, so you’re an expert at covering your tracks. You can pilot a plane. You can operate drones. You’re proficient with ingress and egress of locked spaces.”

“You could just say getting in and out. You don’t have to be so pretentious about it.”

The breath he exhales is slow and controlled. I’m making him mad.

My grin could be described as shit-eating.

He decides the pleasantries are finished and pronounces, “If you refuse to join us, you die.”

I lift my brows. “Not exactly a rousing recruiting slogan, is it?”

“That’s not an idle threat.”

“Yes, I can see you’re very serious. Your dimple is winking at me.”

After a pause, he says sourly, “You’re an arrogant prick.”

“I’d say it takes one to know one, but I’m so frightened that you’ll lose your temper and murder me.”

When I flatten my lips together to keep from smiling, he shakes his head in disgust.

“I’ll be in touch again in a few days. In the meantime, talk to Pakhan.”

“Great to meet you, Number One. Have fun back at the asylum.”

Muttering in Gaelic, he walks toward the exit.

I call after him, “Say hi to Number Two for me!”

The door slams behind him, and he’s gone.

I load the groceries into the truck then start the drive back to the cabin. On the way, I call Pakhan. We talk for the entire hour it takes me to get home.

By the time I arrive, Pakhan has confirmed everything Killian told me.

He’s dying of cancer.

He wants me to be his successor.

He and the cocky Irishman with the Jesus complex have been working undercover together for years to infiltrate and eliminate the biggest rats in the nest as it were, along with the other members of the Thirteen, who are definitely not a boy band.

Last but not least, my options are limited: accept the role I’m being offered, or spend the rest of my life dodging bullets from this irritating fucking Killian person and his crew of twelve murderous, highly-trained and well-funded do-gooding disciples.

The bottom line being that no matter what happens next, I can’t keep my little bird caged any longer.

I’ll either be a dead man or the king of the Bratva with a thousand new targets on his back and more secrets than any man should have.

There’s only one way I can protect her now.

Open her cage door, and let her fly away.

A mile from the cabin, I pull off the side of the road and hop out of the truck. Cursing furiously, I unload the magazine of my gun into the nearest tree. I reload and empty another one. Then I get the axe I keep in the toolbox in the bed of the truck and hack up several other trees, until I’m sweating and panting, and my hands are raw.

None of it helps. There’s nothing that will ever help me get this pain out of my system.

I knew this day would come, one way or the other. I’m still not prepared for it. But the fact remains, a girl like Riley doesn’t belong with a man like me. A man with my life and all the horror that comes with it.

Everyone knows the dragon doesn’t get the princess in the end.

The dragon doesn’t save the day.

That’s what white knights are for.

I throw the axe to the ground and blow out a hard breath. I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and stand motionless, just breathing, until I know my voice will sound steady.

Then I fish my cell from my pocket and dial the Lenin Hotel in Moscow. When a woman at the front desk picks up, I tell her to connect me to room number 427.

Then I wait, heartbroken and sick to my stomach, for Spider to answer the phone.





42





Riley





I can tell something’s amiss the moment Mal walks through the door.

Carrying brown paper bags of groceries, he’s tense. His energy is weird. He won’t look at me.

Sitting at the kitchen table with my yellow legal pad, I watch him drop the bags onto the counter and turn back to go out again.

“Mal?”