“Where is Anastasia?” I asked Misha, who stood at the corner of the back of the house. He didn’t answer, just glanced over and no sooner he did that, Anastasia came strolling barefoot with her shoes in her hand. Even wearing blue jeans, a simple t-shirt and ballet flats in her hand, she looked regal.
“I’m here.” Her green eyes watched us all in defiance. “It’s not like I had a choice of going anywhere with you shoving a guard on me.”
She was pissed. Good, pissed was better than scared.
“And you guys can’t just be killing people,” she scolded all three of us, challenging in her voice. “That’s illegal, you know.”
“Is it?” Sergei retorted back, teasing her. He always teased at the worst moments.
She rolled her eyes at him. “You know it is,” she hissed back. “All three of you know it. And that guy was tied, so what threat could he have been? It was unnecessarily cruel.”
“Did you recognize him?” I asked her, my tone cold. He was a threat and those had to be eliminated.
I knew she recognized him. Her eyes told me so even before she opened her mouth.
“Yes,” she admitted quietly. “He… he was one of the men who had held me captive.”
I wondered how much she heard before I shot our captive. “Do you know why he was here?”
She nodded. “To take me back,” her voice trembled but she didn’t quiver. For all that she went through, Anastasia was a brave woman. She would go down fighting. “You’ve killed before,” she stated with conviction. “All three of you have done this before.”
There was no sense in denying it or lying about it. It was who we were, it was how we grew up.
“Yes,” I answered and Nikolai and Sergei’s confirmation statement followed too. I continued, “We grew up among organized crime. It is what we have known since we were kids. We have been working at separating ourselves from that kind of life for the past two years.”
She eyed me, debating whether to believe me or not. I couldn’t blame her. She just witnessed me shoot a captive man point blank and that wasn’t exactly evidence of separating from the organized crime life.
“Why kill him though?” she asked. “He was tied. You could have just turned him into the police. It was the right thing to do.”
The unspoken accusation lingered in the air. The men outside of the organized crime groups didn’t kill. Normally, I didn’t give a fuck what people thought of us, of me, but it mattered to me what Anastasia thought of me and my brothers. I didn’t want her resentment or disgust at who we were.
“That scum was hunting you down,” Nikolai hissed. “For Boris, so they could torture you. Would you rather we let them all live?”
She flinched at his words, but he spoke facts. They wouldn’t hesitate to take her to Boris and he would torture her and kill her without an ounce of regret.
“Everything we have done in the last two days has been in the interest of keeping you safe,” I vowed.
I wasn’t in the habit of lying and wouldn’t pretend to be something I was not. But it was important she understood we were doing it for her. Initially, it had started as a means to legalize all our businesses, but now, it had become more than that. Her safety mattered.
For all the emotions that were evident on her face, that was one I couldn't capture. Did she believe me? Did she trust my brothers and me?
She glanced at Misha. “I’m going in the house. Am I allowed to do that or will you stalk behind me in there too?”
Sergei answered, “Go ahead princess. You’ll have your freedom in the house.”
She shot him an annoyed look and turned her back, strolling into the house, giving me a perfect view of her backside. She must have been true royalty in her past life because she certainly had all the qualities of it. I was sure there was a lot of information floating around that brilliant and pretty head of hers and she wanted to process it.
I wasn’t willing to evaluate why it bothered me so much to think Anastasia loathed us now. I never had the intention of hiding our true selves from her but disgust or hate from her didn’t sit well with me.
She disappeared from the view, and instantly I wished her back so I could have her close to me.
Misha’s earpiece went off, causing him to tense and then whatever was said, he relaxed.
“She went into the kitchen with Sonia,” he passed on the message. “She’ll be fine. Just needs to process it all. That’s a lot of information to digest,” he added.
He was right about that. We had a lot of information to digest too.
“We’ll have to move,” I told them, summarizing the danger for Misha. I only gave him the necessary details. “Get everything prepared and packed, cars and men ready. Make sure everyone is on standby and fully armed.”