Page 63 of Jetmir

Progress.

I headed down the steps and into the library where Elira was probably scoping out the collection I’d put together for Anya. It varied from classic love stories to kinky alien smut. Once I peeked into her reading history, I would procure those too. Fuck, I hoped she was into illustrated versions. That would make it even more exciting.

“The expression on your face tells me your reunion didn’t go as planned,” Elira remarked dryly when I entered the room.

“It went fine,” I snapped. “You didn’t touch anything, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t touch your precious books.”

“They’re Anya’s, not mine.” I took a seat behind the desk I’d found myself working at more and more over the months. It made me feel closer to Anya being surrounded by things she loved.

“Let’s hope she appreciates them. By the way, Mother called. Word is out that you got your hands on your wife and the world is out to get you.”

Jesus, word traveled through our world faster than a bullet.

“You didn’t linger on the phone, right?”

“I didn’t answer, so she texted.”

“Good. It's best we keep our regular cell phones off and stick to disposable ones.” I powered up the computer, then entered my password. “They’re untraceable.”

“Jet, I wasn’t born yesterday. You don’t need to walk me through every damn step of what to do.” Her expression was cold, but I paid her no mind. Elira always had a resting bitch face. She used it to her advantage, but I knew better. “Why come here? This place gives me the creeps.”

The part she left unsaid was after learning all the shit our father, his family, and our ancestors did on this island, she hated to be here. It was a reminder of the lineage we came from.

That wasn’t even the worst part.

The very worst was learning that Santiago Tijuana had kidnapped Anya’s mother over two decades ago and brought her to this island. He tortured her here, tried to break her. She, and other countless women, endured so much horrors and trauma here.

Fuck, I wished that bastard was alive so I could break him.

However, I couldn’t ignore that it was exactly that history that would make this the last place the Santos family and the Triad would look for us.

“I know, but it’s the safest place to hide.”

Elira let out a heavy breath. “Do you think it’s in our genes to be villains?”

“There are no villains and heroes in our world,” I deadpanned. “But if there were, you definitely wouldn’t be one.” She didn’t seem convinced. “We’re going through some lengths to protect my wife and the most important thing is that my diversion worked,” I continued, unwilling to deal with my own feelings of fucked-up family traits.

“Raphael and Sailor believe you fucked off to Russia,” she remarked, thankfully changing the subject.

“Good.”

If the Santos family knew their daughter at all, they’d know that was the last place I would take her. She hated the cold and I wanted her happy and in the mood for seduction, not grumpy beneath a mountain of layers. But maybe they just didn’t know me. Their mistake; not mine.

Silence followed while my fingers flew across the keyboard, aware of Elira’s eyes zeroing in on me. “Well?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Well what?”

“What’s the plan now?”

“No plan. It’s probably best if you disappear so when her family shows up, you’re not implicated.”

She scoffed. “Too late for that. Anya saw me. I’m sure she’ll spill the beans.”

“She won’t.” Anya wasn’t a snitch. “Besides, you could follow up on that lead for me.”

I’d been chasing donors for years in order to remedy my mistake. I’d contemplated killing Gabriel’s match, but I knew Anya wouldn’t be okay with cold-blooded murder. Heck, that goody-two-shoes mobster of her brother probably wouldn’t accept it either.