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She exhales in relief, and my chest tightens a little in response.
This is on me. I put her in danger.
Dmitri’s silver car comes to a stop next to us in front of the serendipitously empty house. It’s impossible to discern any of his features through the vehicle’s blacked-out windows, but it doesn’t matter. I recognize his car just the same. It means Vladmir survived long enough to follow my orders and send Dmitri my way. With any luck, Vlad has lost the Irish soldiers by now.
Wordlessly, I open the backseat door to Kat, gesturing for her to get inside the vehicle. She complies, sliding into the car with no complaints.
“Let’s go,” I say to Dmitri as I sit beside him. He does as he’s told. Once he pulls out onto the main road, he glances at me, then at Kat.
“Are you guys doing fine?” he asks, eyes swerving from the side mirrors to the rearview one, attentively surveying the road for any signs of McGuire’s men.
I nod in reply, but Kat only shrugs, staring off into the distance through the window.
Dmitri exhales with a sigh. “Thank God. How do you want to do this, Nik?”
“Do what?” I ask, watching Kat through my side mirror. I can’t really see her face as she watches our surroundings, lost in thought, which means I can’t discern her emotions. Is she scared? As the adrenaline wears off, she’s bound to feel exhausted. She’s probably regretting the day she had the misfortune of crossing paths with me.
“Take out McGuire, of course,” Dmitri says, exasperated.
With a frown, I glance at him, still studying Kat from the corner of my eye.
Dmitri is clearly in a heightened emotional state if the way his pale blue eyes frantically scan the sides and back of the road is any indication. His skin is tinted with a flush from exertion, and his dark blond hair is a mess. It’s obvious that his usual composure is long gone.
I can’t help but sigh, rubbing a hand over my closed eyelids. Suddenly, I feel exhausted, and I can’t even blame it on the effects of the adrenaline rush wearing off. Is there anyone I haven’t failed today? I didn’t keep Kat safe. I couldn’t even manage to protect the bratva’s interests. Now, I realize I also failed my most loyal friend.
Dmitri’s always so calm, cool, and collected that I sometimes forget how young he is. For all his bravado, he’s been fairly sheltered and protected since he started working for me—or at least as much as anyone working for the bratva could have been.
It was so easy for me to keep him relatively safe when there were no significant threats. I just don’t have the heart to make him grow up too fast, especially considering everything Maxim and I went through when we weren’t much younger than he is now.
“Dmitri, McGuire is not your concern,” I say.
Dmitri glares at me as if I’ve suddenly started speaking in tongues. “What do you mean, he’s not my concern? He tried to kill you, Nik. You’re my pakhan. It’s my duty to take him out.”
“I’ll handle him myself. You’ll stay out of this. You’ll be needed elsewhere. Besides, I’m not ready to accept we’re going to war with the Irish just yet.”
Dmitri scoffs. “That ship has sailed, Nik.”
“Maybe,” I concede. “But I’m not ready to throw the towel just yet. If there’s any way we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed, I’m duty-bound to try it.”
Dmitri sighs. For a naively hopeful moment, I think he’s dropping the matter. But that’s just wishful thinking, of course.
“Here’s an idea,” he says. “Why don’t I drop you and Kat off at home before circling back to take care of McGuire myself? I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that it’s pure chaos back at his fucking beach house. I can probably sneak in, off him, and get the fuck out of there before anyone even realizes what’s going on.”
I shut him down without a second thought. “That’s the most brain-dead thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. Absolutely not.”
“Why the hell not? It’s about time we give that fucker his due. And you could still avoid war with his men. You’ll just tell everyone I acted on my own and exile me to Siberia like you did with Maxim. Or we’ll fake my death or something of the sort.”
Boys and their bravado…
“Over my dead body, Dmitri,” I say, raising my voice at him as I start to lose my patience. “I’ll be damned before I have you or anybody else doing my dirty work for me. Or taking the fall for me. And I won’t sentence you to certain death or a life of misery in exile.”
Dmitri has the nerve to roll his eyes at me. “Oh, come now, Nik. Be reasonable about this. Just think about it.”
“No. I won’t say it again, Dmitri. Don’t test me on this,” I warn him in a tone more assertive than I remember ever using with him.
The sight of him so deflated, especially when he means well, pains me. It’s an idiotic idea, of course, but he’s coming from a place of loyalty to me and the bratva.
“Yes, sir,” he agrees as meekly as I have ever heard him.
