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I sigh again. In a gentler tone, I add, “I won’t have McGuire killing anyone else I care about, Dmitri. I’ll handle him myself.”
“Just like you, I have a duty here, Nik. McGuire came after you. You can’t expect me not to do anything about it. After everything you’ve done for me and my mom, you know I can’t just let this go,” he pleads, his voice rising an octave.
“Dmitri, my word on this is final. You’ll do as you’re told, or so help me God, I’ll teach you a lesson I should’ve taught you a long time ago.”
Dmitri stares at me in shock. I don’t blame him. He’s never heard me speak to him like this. Vladmir’s right. I’ve been too soft on him. For the first time in the decade Dmitri and I have known each other, there’s no rueful amusement or even tolerance in my tone as I respond to his challenge to my authority.
Suddenly, Kat’s clear voice interrupts our tense back-and-forth. “Hey, are you guys hungry? Because I’m starving. I think we should order some takeout when we get home. I don’t know about you two, but I’m craving some Chinese.”
It’s obvious she’s trying to lighten the mood and shield Dmitri from the worst of my temper. I scowl at her through the rearview mirror, and she smiles at me, wholly unconcerned.
“I’m fine with Chinese,” Dmitri says through gritted teeth. “Didn’t that cheap fuck have any food at his shitty party?”
“I’m sure he did,” Kat says, shrugging. “But I was too busy to grab a bite. Our boss is an unreasonably demanding guy, as you know well.”
I narrow my eyes at her through the mirror, and the little minx has the nerve to blow me a kiss.
Dmitri chuckles under his breath. Mostly for her benefit and out of politeness, I’m sure. “I’ll plead the fifth on that one, Kat,” he says.
Kat perks up at his amused tone, pleased at her success at lightening the mood and cheering him up. As I watch her, I can’t help but smile a little.
“Oh, come on,” Kat says. “You can tell us whatever’s on your mind, Dmitri. Whatever you do, you probably won’t piss him off as much as I have today. Trust me.”
“Now I’m curious. What did you do this time?” he asks, eyeing her through the rearview mirror.
“Let’s just say Nik was already feeling pretty on edge by the time I rammed his car against McGuire’s gate. Twice. Or thrice. I wasn’t keeping count.” She sighs before smiling at me. “You should’ve seen his face, Dmitri.”
He laughs, the tension in his shoulders slowly dissipating with each chuckle.
“All he would’ve seen was the expression of a man who’s realized he’s been hustled. I was promised a world-class burglar. All I got was a girl with too much sass for her own good and who can’t even figure out how to open a garage door,” I say, my eyes never leaving hers through the car’s mirror.
Kat raises her eyebrows, but there’s an amused glint in her eyes when she says, “Well, that says more about you than it does about me, miliy. If memory serves me, I was good enough to steal from the big, bad pakhan himself—right under his nose—and get away with nothing but a slap on the wrist.”
I smirk at her. “Your recollection and mine vary wildly, Kat. I do recall a slap, but it certainly wasn’t on your wrist.”
Kat gasps, feigning outrage. But even as she pouts, acting incensed, her eyes sparkle with unmistakable humor.
Dmitri whistles before chuckling. Mid-laugh, his head snaps in Kat’s direction like a whip. “Hang on, what did you just call him?” he asks her, his eyes as wide as saucers.
Kat shrugs in answer.
Dmitri turns to me, breathlessly and dramatically widening his eyes. “Did I just hear her call you miliy? Please say yes. I did, didn’t I?”
My only response is a sigh as I roll my eyes because I know where this is going.
“Where did you learn that word?” he asks her.
“Online, of course,” she says in a casual tone. “I learned the term is the male equivalent of the word milaya when I looked that one up. Nik wouldn’t tell me what it meant even though he kept calling me that, so I had to figure it out myself, you know.”
Somehow, Dmitri’s eyes grow even wider. He’s frozen in place for a second before erupting in laughter. “Oh, man,” he manages to say between howls of laughter, wiping at the corner of his eyes. “Thank you, Kat. Thank you so much. You just made my week. Oh, gosh. I can’t believe my ears. Nikolai Stefanovich lets you call him miliy because he calls you milaya.”
“Dmitri…” I say in warning, but my heart isn’t in it, and he knows it. As usual, he disregards me completely.
“No one’s going to believe me,” he says with a groan, still chuckling. “I wouldn’t believe it myself if I hadn’t seen his expression just now.”
“Since we are on this subject,” Kat says, “I’d like to run some Russian words by you, Dmitri. For starters, what does kiska mean?”
Dmitri’s jaw goes slack as his eyes widen again. “Does he call you kiska, too?” he asks her. “Please tell me he calls you kiska.”
