I open the door to make sure the detail outside hasn’t left their positions. Two of my best men still stand at attention when I go to them.
“Have you noticed anything out of place?”
One frowns. “Not anything that indicates danger,” he says.
But in Bratva life, you take nothing for granted. It’s worth missing a night’s sleep for safety’s sake, even if it means leaving the side of the woman I love.
The woman I love.
I’ve kept her apart from my day to day dealings as much as I can, but our lives are too meshed in it to do so fully. And every time something threatens the lives of my men, I’m reminded of where she came from. Of the danger that lurks outside the safety of the compound walls. I’m ready and willing to protect my woman no matter the cost, and my gut says that day may be sooner than later.
I scrub a hand across my brow as I go down the hallway toward the exit, wracking my brain. It’s the middle of the fucking night. Nicolai leaves to go home in a few days and Yakov should be with Yvonne. Or is it Yakov’s turn for night shift watch? We don’t normally even have night shift, but with recent events I thought it wise. As pakhan, I have bodyguards, but I have at least two men on Caroline at all times when she isn’t in my presence.
I try to call Nicolai and Yakov in turn, but both times the phone just rings until I get to voicemail.
Shit.
The compound is nearly silent, save for the silent pacing of those on guard, when I reach the first floor. I go to Ilya first, before I do anything else, but his story is the same. Nothing’s out of the ordinary, but he still can’t get in touch with anyone. The garden wraps around the entrance to our compound, and I see a shadow move. Still beyond the entrance to the compound, but the garden area is clearly marked as private property. No one should be there at this hour.
“Ilya, do you see someone over by the bench?”
“I do, sir. I saw nothing until you came.”
There’s a full moon tonight, illuminating the garden and front walk that leads to the compound. I squint toward it. Who the hell is in the garden this late at night? I blink in surprise when my vision adjusts to the dim lighting.
It’s a woman. Christ. What the hell is a woman doing on a bench outside the compound? The only women allowed anywhere near us should be accompanied by their men.
“Tomas—”
I hold up a hand to silence him. I’ll investigate myself.
I watch as she rises before I reach her. Standing on ridiculously spikey heels, she wobbles in the grass. Is she drunk? The woman wears a skin-tight black leather dress, her thick, wavy blonde hair framing her face. She’s dressed so provocatively; I wonder if she’s a hooker one of my men called. I’ll kick the ass of anyone who’s brought her and left her on our private property. What the fuck is this?
“Who are you?” I demand.
She grins in response. My skin prickles with awareness, as if we’re being watched. There’s something macabre in this night, and foreboding pools in my belly when I approach her.
“The better question is, who are you, handsome?” She places her hands on her hips and I swear she sashays a little, as if she’s beckoning me to her.
“I’m a happily married man,” I say tightly. “And no one’s allowed on this property without permission. Tell me who you are before I call the police.”
She laughs out loud, the sound ringing through the quiet. “Happily married. Oh, that’s rich. As if that matters, handsome. I’ve slept with more married men than single. They’re far more eager. And you look like the type that could use it.”
“It matters.”
When I get within a few paces of her, the garden lights, triggered by motion sensors, turn on. I blink in the sudden blinding light, shielding my eyes from it. It’s all she needs. She’s close enough that she grabs my shoulder and yanks me to her. I’m so taken aback, I don’t react at first, stunned by her bold moves. Grabbing the back of my head she anchors herself on me, pulls my head down, and kisses me with one knee hitched up to my side.
Rage boils up inside me. I could hurt her. Christ, I’m afraid I will. I push her away, and it takes every bit of restraint I have not to slap her. But hell, I don’t need a restraining order or assault on my record. Even a man like me would serve time for assaulting a woman, and I don’t need that on my record. I have to be careful.