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“I have guns, dumbass.”
“Just sitting out in the open with little ones around?” Maks asks, tsk-tsking my words. “I don’t think so. My sister won’t want you walking around the house heavily armed.”
“I want to live like a normal family.”
“But you aren’t normal. Your marriage is a business deal between two powerful factions. Anyone who wants to show their dissatisfaction with that alliance will have an easy target. No offense, but killing you wouldn’t be much of a loss. After all, you live a violent life. No, they won’t go with such a weak message. Killing the kids would be too evil of a message for most enemies. That leaves my little sister with the crosshairs firmly affixed on her head. So, imagine again what you’d do if armed men busted into the house in the dead of the night while you’re naked, my sister is asleep, and those kids are tucked in with Kermit and the other doll.”
“Abby Cadabby,” I mutter as I picture someone in my house. “How can those kids grow up normal with armed assholes always around?”
“That’s not a real question coming from a man like you.”
I think of my youth at the farm. Guns were everywhere. It wasn’t particularly safe with little ones like Siobhan and Carys running around. Plus, several of the younger guys suffered from impulsive habits. A bad day might lead to shooting themselves or someone else. But guns were a way of our life.
I know Natasha wants to live like a normal family. She isn’t built for violence. I think she’d rather take a punch than watch someone receive one. But I can’t let her get hurt.
“Fine, build the casita. How much security are we talking about?”
“I want at least one person at the house at all times, even when you’re not there. You live on a large property with sufficient privacy. If you didn’t, we’d insist you move. However, with your property size, a security team of two or three at a time should suffice.”
Shaking my head, I mutter, “The kids are going to grow up weird.”
“Natasha always had someone watching her when she was little. She still went to school, had friends, fucked you at the clubhouse, and lived her life. Your kids will do fine,” Maks says and drops the smug expression. “But only if we do our jobs and keep them alive.”
“Are you aware of any specific threats?”
Maks scans the room before exhaling deeply. “The problem is too many people want us dead. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for the most viable risk. We can only assume we’re under threat at all times.”
My gaze washes over the room, trying to separate ally from enemy. I don’t even know most of the people here. That’s my life now. I’m about to marry into a family with too many enemies to count.
“Even with everything we do,” Maks says, “it’s pure luck if we live or die.”
“I’m not letting anyone hurt her.”
“They could hit us at any time,” Maks insists as if I’m too dumb to see the big picture. Taking his fresh drink, he admits, “I have no doubt we’ll win any battle, but that doesn’t mean we’ll never suffer any casualties.”
I think back to a time not so long ago when it was common for a member of my club to end up with a bullet in them. Pork Chop’s blood brother got his throat slit at a dentist appointment. Another club brother was driven off the road and filled with lead.
The enemies who killed our people paid a heavy price. Zoot believes in taking more than what was stolen. If an enemy kills one of ours, we take a dozen of theirs. If attacking us hurts enough, most assholes won’t be willing to take the shot.
But some still will try. Whether they’re crazy or suicidal, they’ll come at the club and Kovak Syndicate without worrying over consequences.
I’ve never let myself stress dying. After all, a dead man has no problems. But being a live man with a dead wife or kid isn’t an existence I think I can survive.
After Maks gets his agreement on the security and casita, I walk toward Carys and Siobhan. They’re looking especially pretty tonight in their black dresses. Siobhan is on the hunt for a possible man to throw herself at while her sister is mostly just nibbling at various hors d'oeuvres.
“Looking slick, Bear,” Carys says as she spits out a green hors d'oeuvres. “Either my taste buds aren’t working or everything tastes like butthole.”
Siobhan glances at her sister, likely wanting to question the butthole-flavor thing. Fortunately, she spots Hunter arriving and ditches us.
I stand awkwardly, frowning at everyone and hiding none of my irritation. Natasha still moves from one group of people to another. Her mother’s joined her. Petra is nearby, standing next to Viktor.
I start imagining how I’ll feel when I join the Kovak family for holidays or even normal meals. My life’s goal is to never know which fork is for the salad. I’m not looking to learn new shit at my age. Mostly, I don’t like feeling judged.
My thoughts flash to Hector and Jacinda. They’re so goofy and excitable. I can’t imagine them turning into robots around the Kovak family. Maybe I can act like my kids and do whatever the hell I want.
Unable to shake my irritation, I stare at Natasha. Though I want to admire her beauty, I’m mostly pissed at how she’s not really mine.
Suddenly, Natasha looks right at me. At first, I only see the ice princess. Then, she notices how I’m dressed. I feel her gaze soaking in my cleaned-up look. She exhales deeply and a flirty smile warms her lips. Right this moment, she hides nothing. I’m all she sees, and my Natasha is front and center.
