“Hey, man, you can’t be here.” I eyed him warily through the steel bars of the gate while Timofey stepped up beside me. “This is private property.” Tim and I both made a point of showing our guns, letting the guy know we were serious. His gaze skimmed over our weapons with disinterest and zero fear, but when he glanced up at my face, he gasped, his eyes bugging out. Recognition flickered in his eyes before he tripped backward, falling on his ass, his mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out.
Hold on. Did I know this dude?
Lifting a shaky finger, he pointed at me, stuttering, “B-b-beeeast!” Then he tilted his head back and howled like a wolf before scrambling to his feet and sprinting away, the coattails of his trench coat flailing behind him.
What the fuck?
“Huh.” Timofey glanced at me, his lips twitching in amusement. “That was…odd. Couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or terrified of you or both. Your reputation precedes you, dude. Maybe we should post blown-up pictures of your face around the property to scare off any potential trespassers. Kind of like a scarecrow. Then we wouldn’t have to stand guard.” He sniggered, smacking my shoulder.
I curled my lip.Hardy-har-har.
My “reputation” as the Bratva’s interrogator, or the Beast, had spread over the years. I didn’t know who’d started the rumors about me—probably someone I’d once interrogated—but I wasn’t the monster the stories portrayed me to be. I was only scary on the outside. I didn’t bother disputing the claims. It was better if people thought I truly was a beast. They were more likely to keep their distance from me, which was how I liked it.
Even so, I couldn’t stop irritation from sweeping through me—though I wasn’t sure if I was pissed at Tim for being an insensitive dick or mad at myself for letting his words get to me.
Tim wasn’t trying to be mean; he was just being Tim. I would never let on how much his words cut. Even my best friend made jokes about my looks. It seemed my face’s only purpose was frightening people. And frankly, it was getting old.
Grunting, I turned away, heading back to my post at the front door.
Tim hurried after me. “Hey, man, you know I was only joking. Don’t take offense.”
I blew out a breath. How could I be upset with Timofey when he was only being himself? The dude had a tendency to speak without thinking. Without considering theconsequencesof his words. That was one of the reasons he was so entertaining. Most of the time, he made me laugh with his silly outbursts. Not this time.
I shrugged it off. “None taken.” It wasn’t the worst thing someone had said about my face. And I never bothered shutting people down when they were asses, so I was partly to blame for the continued jokes. It was easier to just let the insults roll on by.
We regained our posts on either side of the front door and fell into a companionable silence, keeping our senses alert. But something about that trespasser nagged at me. He’d seemed to know me, but I was positive I didn’t know him.
While I stewed on who he might be, time passed slowly.
The sun disappeared.
Darkness settled in.
Then I gave up trying to figure out who he was. If he returned, I would interrogate him to get some answers.
Tim and I remained at our posts, quietly talking, trying to keep the boredom at bay, while we stayed alert and watched for anything out of the ordinary.
Annika will be home soon.
My heart stuttered.
Had her concert gone well? How had she performed after a five-month hiatus? Had she been nervous? I imagined her up on that stage in her present condition in front of all those people. Vulnerable. Had her fingers cooperated, wowing the audience as they flew expertly across the piano keys? Had she been comfortable? Had her back caused her any pain? Had her muscles ached? Had she needed any special assistance?
I wish I could have been there to watch her play. But Pavel had assigned his top soldiers to protect her, and unfortunately, I wasn’t one of them.
My place was here, guarding the estate. Or wherever the Popovs sent me. I could only fantasize about Annika in my mind and watch her from afar.
After her trauma five months ago, it was a miracle she’d even wanted to get back up on stage, and especially so soon. Going against the urgings of her family, she’d stubbornly faced her fears head-on.
Annika had to be the bravest woman I knew.
I caught a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye, turning my head as another soldier—one of the canine handlers—moved along the south end of the property with a Rottweiler. The Popovs had several guard dogs on the estate. The ferocious animals were a deterrent to any would-be trespassers, and I’ll admit they scared the living shit out of me. The guard dogs required special handling, and the first time I’d come onto the property, the sight of those beasts had sent my heart catapulting into my ribs. Since then, I’d done my best to keep a respectful distance from the dogs at all times.
Though the dog was on a leash, I still couldn’t contain my hidden terror when the large animal was in my vicinity, saliva drooling over his sharp fangs, his beady dark eyes and stocky build sending my pulse skyrocketing even at this distance as he strutted along beside his handler, his mouth partially open in a perpetual snarl.
Catching our gazes, the guard, Stepan, halted, nodding at each of us. “Hey, Tim. Beast. Quiet night?”
“Had a trespasser earlier,” Tim answered. “He took one look at Adrik’s face and ran off like the devil was on his ass.” He chuckled.