Page 168 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

“She learned that from me.”

He snorts. “You’re not bossy. You’re terrifying.”

“Back at ya, War,” I say and take a sip. “Did Scava confirm your meeting tomorrow?”

Ares nods. “He’ll be at the Aurelian.”

“I guess whatever was going on between him and the brunette⁠—”

“Elodie,” Ares corrects, shaking his head. “Are you bad with names or are you just a jerk?”

“Both.” I smile behind my glass.

“I haven’t asked Elodie about Nico. It’s none of my business,” Ares affirms. “She’s an adult.”

“But he is now the head of the American Cosa Nostra. As we are. He’s not some guy she was shacking up with.”

“Again, none of my business.”

Elodie stands on the other side of Lourdes, laughing at something Violet just said.

Ares follows my gaze. “Then again, if Elodie was investigating Scava for a story, and has information on him…” He trails off.

“Then it will be your business?” I suggest. “I can care less what she knows about Scava.”

A laugh nearly escapes Ares, but the ballroom doors explode inward. The sound cracks through the room like gunfire. Everyone shuts the hell up, and the quartet stops playing.

Men in baseball caps and blue zip-up jackets with Kevlar vests and tactical gear pour inside. Federal Agents. Enemies we can’t kill. Not out in the open anyway.

That doesn’t mean I’ll let them take me.

Every guard in the room moves into position to protect their charges.

“Daddy!” Violet’s terrified voice cuts through everything.

I don't think. My instincts take over before my mind catches up. And I move. I reach my daughter and my wife in seconds. One arm scoops Violet against my chest, and she wraps her arms around my neck. Sandrine gets on the other side of me, and my free hand goes beneath my jacket. Ready.

My pulse pounds, watching. Waiting. What the hell is this?

Ares storms toward the agents before anyone else can, all seven of his guards now surrounding Lourdes.

The room practically parts around him. This is his city, so I let him deal with this mess. Watching smoke come out of his ears is hilarious.

“Are you out of your fucking minds?” he roars. “How dare you crash my wife’s baby shower. Where is Agent-in-Charge Underhill?”

The lead agent doesn’t even flinch. “We don’t report to Underhill.”

A realization strikes me. Shit. Maybe they are here for me. The Barinov transition wasn’t exactly bloodless. We took every precaution, but operated with the understanding that the Feds don’t care about dead gangsters.

Still, I step forward, Violet against my chest.

“If you're looking for me, you should have come to Chicago. Like my brother-in-law said, this is a private party.”

The agent turns toward me, his expression annoyingly calm. “We’re not here for you either, Mr. Volkov.”

That only makes me feel slightly better, but a few points less because this agent knows who I am.

Silence falls over the room as the agents look around. If they aren’t here for Ares and they aren’t here for me, then who the hell are they here for?