Page 53 of The Big Fix

“Yes,” I groused at him. “Why?”

“Jing called.”

“If you’re here, everyone’s going to know,” I railed at him.

My anger would have had a lot more heat if Jing hadn’t taken that moment to rush across the room and into his arms.

“You came!” she squealed as she hugged him.

He wrapped her in his arms, held her close, and said something like solnyshkuh or solnechnyy svet. I’d never gotten a clear translation, but I was fairly certain it meant sunshine in Russian. That’s what the scariest man in the world called my assistant.

“Look at my face, Isaak. It’s all scratched.”

“You look beautiful,” he soothed her.

“We got shot at in the alley and on the street and in the boat and—”

“You’re keeping him safe and alive. I know. Like always.”

“Did you see the boat chase on TV? That was me driving the whole time.”

His gaze flicked to mine, and his silver eyes—that was the only way they could be described—were cold and dead.

“It’s not my fault,” I said defensively, taking an instinctive breath. If I wasn’t scared, just a little, by Isaak Skriabin, my sense of self-preservation would be dead, and that would be disastrous. I knew where I stood with Darius and Dante and others from my past, and that was rock solid. With Isaak…

But it was hard to dredge up that much fear when Jing, whom I adored and trusted, was snuggled up into his chest complaining about Thailand.

Not complaining. That wasn’t right. That made her sound whiny or weak, and she was never that. She was scared, panicked, and I’d missed when she got to that place.

“Hasana is having a baby, so she can’t be here, and Arden is in London setting up this nice Thai family there, and that leaves me, here, alone, to protect Jared.” She was rambling, and it struck me how drained and weary she really was. “And Dante is really nice, and Garland is lovely, but I need more help taking care of him. I can’t do it by myself, and I’m a big enough person to admit that.”

She was so terrified of losing me, of not having enough backup, of not being enough herself, that she’d called on the scariest person she knew to assist her. She’d called an assassin. To me, that didn’t seem logical. To her, calling the person she had the most faith in, even though, again, he was a killer, seemed like the reasonable play.

“She said I was lovely,” Garland said to Dante and me, nudging me with his elbow. Since when were we friends?

Dante looked at me. “She would do anything to protect you. That’s some impressive loyalty there.”

It certainly was. She was strong enough to say when she needed help because she would not allow her pride to get in the way of being my shield, my guardian.

“He needs me to take care of him,” she lamented, burrowing into Isaak’s arms, “but what if I miss something or make a mistake? I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m feeling very much like chopped liver over here,” Dante grumbled.

“I’m still feeling lovely,” Garland told him.

“He used to be able to take care of himself,” Isaak said, hugging her. “But he is older now, slower, and he has not been in the field for some time. Skills atrophy when they go unused.”

“He’s talkin’ about you,” Dante made sure I knew.

“And you.”

“Oh no,” he assured me. “This isn’t my sandbox anymore. I now direct people, if and when I go out into the field. This whole bullets-whizzing-by-my-head business has not happened in years.”

It hadn’t happened to me either. If I thought about it, the only people who were actively returning fire these days were Garland and Isaak. One to save people, the other to kill them.

“I’m sorry if I pulled you away from something,” she told Isaak, weeping now, using the handkerchief he passed her to blot at her eyes. She was overwrought, the day before clearly having scared her more than I realized. And not for herself, never for herself, but for me. She was terrified of not being enough, so she made certain my safety would not be compromised.

“No, it was nothing.”