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It suddenly hit him she expected an answer. He was the underboss to the Romanov Bratva, a feared brigadier in their ranks. He didn’t answer to anyone besides Kristoff. People knew not to fuck with him or question him. Clearly, Vicky hadn’t gotten that memo yet.
He frowned, letting her gently know she was to drop the subject. “Let’s get you inside.” Without waiting for her, he followed after the twins.
“I still want to know who she is,” she yelled after him.
Fucking hell.
Damon smirked when he threw open the door. “Remember when Angel hit his teens?”
“You’re twins, yet I remember you being worse than your brother,” Viking scoffed and dropped the suitcase in a corner.
Their housekeeper, a stocky Polish woman, immediately picked it up and disappeared out of sight.
Vicky looked around, taking it all in. Her eyes widened when she saw a cage in a corner of the living room.
“That’s, um, a cage.” For a human, her eyes seem to say.
“For our pet-to-be,” Angel answered as he dropped on the couch.
Viking shook his head. “You still keeping with that?”
Damon’s eyes hardened. “No one reneges on a deal with us without paying a price.”
Of the two, Damon was the bigger hardass, though Angel was more unpredictable. Viking almost felt sorry for the hacker who had made a deal with them and then fled after using them for their services. Almost. Onyx should have known better. The Romanov Bratva didn’t lift a finger for you without asking for a hand in return. And he didn’t give a shit that she was on the FBI’s most wanted hackers list and, so far, had managed to evade them for years. Everyone made mistakes and slipped up. And once she did? The twins would smell blood and find her.
He felt their pain. After all, he’d been screwed over by a woman far worse. And just like them, he was going to make his woman pay.
CHAPTER 9
VIKING
His daughter took in her surroundings with open curiosity. He tried to see the twins’ place through her eyes. Inside, the house was more like a big open space, with a rec room in the middle. To the right, there was a large fish tank. Vicky stepped closer to the tank to admire the fish. She was met with scales and a long, slimy body.
With a shriek, she backed away from the tank.
“Al is harmless,” Damon said as he dropped onto a recliner across from the huge television.
Viking frowned. Maybe he should have warned her about the twins’ love for exotic pets. He wasn’t used to taking the feelings of a teenage girl into consideration. There was Katya, of course, but her situation was different. Her health hadn’t allowed her to leave the house much, and as such, Viking didn’t spend much one-on-one time with her. With Vicky, it would be different. She was basically a stranger to him, and he wanted to get to know her.
He was still pondering this when the world exploded.
Viking hadn’t known fear in a long time. The only person he’d ever felt accountable for was his brother Sy, and he could damn well take care of himself, Viking had made sure of that. But when the living room window shattered and gunshots assailed the house, missing Vicky by a hair, his heart almost stopped.
“Get down!” He ran over to his girl. She’d dropped onto the floor in front of the sink.
He ran his hands over her body, making sure she hadn’t gotten shot. Ricocheting gunfire filled the night. Glasses and plates spat into a million pieces, turning the floor into a minefield.
He curled himself over his daughter. “You okay?”
She nodded, her eyes big as saucers. “I’m good.”
No, she wasn’t. This was nowhere near good. But he was going to make sure she would be. And when he got out of this alive, he was going to kill any fucker who had taken a shot at them. After chopping off their fingers that dared to shoot at his daughter.
The sound of a shotgun being cocked echoed in the room. He didn’t need to turn around to see the twins had already started an offensive. They thrived during chaos and mayhem.
He cursed when he noticed he’d left his gun on the coffee table. He took out his phone and sent a message to Kristoff, then looked around the corner at the twins.
Angel had taken cover behind the mantle, two guns drawn. Viking looked at the table where his piece was. The only way to it was a long crawl over shattered glass. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had his arms and legs torn open by sharp objects. At least glass wasn’t as bad as barbed wire. The latter was a bitch to remove afterward.
