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A leaner, blonde man leans against the wall, picking something from his teeth with a knife. He has a reedy but strong look. Like a snake.

The third man sits on the edge of the desk, leaning casually against it. He’s got silver at his temples and is the biggest of them all. When he stands, looming over the other men.

But somehow, Nikolai makes him look smaller. It’s the way the three of them look at him. Like he’s more than just a man. It gets to me, tries to make me believe it. But I refuse to get lost in the legend of Nikolai Volkov.

“Gentlemen,” Nikolai says. “This is Serena Torres. She’s one of my most trusted operators.”

Right now, I feel like a terrified mom and not much else. But it’s nice that he introduces me like that. The silver-haired man steps forward and shakes my hand. “Dmitry Sokolov,” he says in a deep baritone. He gestures to the man with the knife. “My melodramatic brother, Yaroslav.”

“Yaro,” he says.

Dmitry shrugs. “And this is Igor. He’s taken a vow of silence.”

“Really?”

“Only when my brother is around,” Igor grunts, not moving from his spot.

They emanate danger, a casual violence that should terrify me. That terrifies me. But when Mateo went to jail and saddled me with all this debt, I made a promise. I’d do right by my girl.

“What sort of men are you?” I ask.

Dmitry shrugs.

“What sort of men are any of us?” Yaro puts the knife on a shelf. “We’re the sort of men who believe in the way the Volkovs do things.”

I lick my lips. What way? I want to ask. But that would mean admitting I know less than they seem to think I do. I need these men to respect me. Can I believe them? Can I trust them? Can I potentially trust them with my daughter?

“They know my brother and I have our differences,” Nikolai says, talking to me but staring at the Sokolovs. “But they also know that nothing can stop a brother from seeking revenge. They know what shadow we’re in. Don’t you, fellas?”

Yaro bows dramatically. Igor stares blankly. Dmitry offers me a small smile, then steps back. “We had to retreat from the city because of that small, petty man, gather ourselves after an encounter between us went wrong. We don’t believe in pushing hard drugs on the poor. Or making slaves of people in cookhouses and brothels. We don’t believe in the grime. If you’re part of Nikolai’s operation, then you shouldn’t have to ask us what kind of men we are. We believe in the Volkovs code. And are more than willing to help take him out.”

I stand up straighter, keeping my expression blank. I don’t want him to be able to tell this is all new to me. And what choice do I have? If I go to the cops and tell them someone made a vague threat to me at work, they won’t put round-the-clock security on my baby girl.

“They can run security,” Nikolai says. “That was their game here for a long time. Nothing will happen to Zoe, Rosa, or Pico. You have my word. But we’ll need to talk about accommodation.”

“Huh?”

Nikolai winces, like he’s gone too far in front of company. What’s he talking about, accommodation? We’ve had this discussion.

“Work up a rotation,” Nikolai says, looking at Dmitry. “Anton’s been up all night, so he’ll need relief. I want eyes on Rosa Vega too.” Nikolai looks at me. “My office.”

He turns and walks away, like it’s an order. I feel a tingle move over me. I like when his voice gets all stern. I’m tired and pulled taut, and somehow that’s making it easier to focus on that possessive, husky energy he’s bringing.

“Keep my girl safe,” I tell the Sokolov brothers.

“We will,” Dmitry says sincerely.

“If I’m a man and I see a man hurting a little girl,” Igor says, staring at me blankly, “what do you imagine I will do? Stand there? No, I will take that man’s heart and crush it in my hand.”

The way he says it tells me he’s being deadly serious.

“Uh, good,” I say awkwardly, leaving.

Good?

Is it though? Can it be?

CHAPTER 18