Page 60 of Mafia and Scars

And that moment in the vegetable garden. I close my eyes briefly, and my fingers tingle at the feel of his skin beneath mine once more. What is it about a man’s forearms, muscles strained and taut, veins on display, that is just so darn attractive? Heat pools in my core, and I give my head a little shake as I clear my throat.

The Viktor I’ve come to know is a different man than the one who commands his men with a barked order or a grumpy glare. The man I know is fierce and hard with everyone, but he’s not like that with me, the kids, or Queenie. And that’s another thing about him. His bond with Queenie is not what I would expect from a man like him. Geliy hated all animals and flat-out refused to let Sofia get a pet. Even the other men here tend to give Viktor strange looks when they see him walking around the Kremlin with Queenie tucked in his arms. I mean how dangerous and scary can this man really be? Sure, he does high-level security work, but outside of that, he’s a guy who tends to a vegetable garden in his spare time and seems to love animals.

And would it be so bad to want…something from him?

A flush runs up my cheeks. What a thought to have about some stranger I don’t really know—even if he’s an attractive one. I can’t deny that. There’s no point now after that small touch fueled a little too much in my head. But it won’t happen. I know that, and he does too. Even if a part of me, that’s being shoved deep, deep down, wants it to.

A smile tugs at my lips as I think that because of him, Sofia hasfound a new hobby. She struggles to know what to do with children’s toys, but she’s really engaged with the puzzles he got her, and she loves problem-solving and working things out. I’ll forever be grateful to Viktor for his kindness and care toward her. And I have to admit that it makes him a little harder to resist.

I fight back a small yawn, my eyes drooping. I seem to be the only one fighting to stay awake. I know I’m still recovering, and I’m weak and tire easily. I don’t want to ruin the fun, but I can’t do it anymore. “It’s late,” I say softly. “I should take the kids and head on up to bed.”

A round of groans meets me, and the reaction shocks me a little. I didn’t think they’d mind us leaving.

“You don’t have to go, do you? The night’s still early,” Matvey says. “And I’m just starting to win. I think Leon might be my good luck charm. Since he’s started trying to put all my chips in his mouth, I keep winning.”

Nikolai snorts into his tumbler. “We’ve been playing for two hours—you’re just starting to win now?”

“I’m doing better than you,” Matvey retorts with a smirk, earning him a huff from Nikolai in response.

“I really should get Leon to sleep before he starts fussing,” I say, yawning softly.

“I can help,” Viktor says.

But I shake my head. “No, stay. Maybe without Sofia helping Nikolai, you can catch up to him.”

Nikolai’s lips quirk up in amusement at my comment. Slowly, I round the table to scoop up Leon in my arms as Sofia slides from Nikolai’s lap and scampers toward the door ahead of me. I offer the men a parting smile as I scoop up Leon’s toy giraffe from the sofa.

Then everything around me goes pitch black.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

VIKTOR

Chaos erupts.

Men sprint to hidden armories. Panels slide open in fake walnut walls. Arsenal after arsenal revealed. Nikolai tosses me night-vision goggles. There’s a cacophony of voices. Russian. English. Orders barked like gunshots. The metallic clash of weapons loading. Gunpowder already thick in the air.

Time slows.

Every second stretches.

My senses sharpen to razor precision.

I sense everything. The whisper of tactical gear. The scent of sweat and adrenaline cutting through the air. Heavy boots vibrating along the floor.

I cock my gun as our soldiers start to file out. Formation perfect. Automatic weapons aimed through shattered windows. The house transforms into a fortress. Furniture scrapes across the floor. Tables are overturned. Barricades are formed.

Our men take aim.Pop! Pop! Pop!Sharp. Clean. Their scopes finding their marks.

There’s a distant cry and a confirmed hit. Deafening bangs fill the building. All-out firefight erupts.

My heart lodges in my throat. Pulse hammering, I fire rounds through the east window. Cover Nikolai. He adjusts his goggles as brass casings rain.

“Contact at two o’clock!” someone yells.

Stinging debris showers me. I duck automatically. It’s muscle memory from too many past firefights.

Nikolai flashes the thumbs-up. I nod. Swivel. My weapon aims at movement in the front yard. The night-vision goggles transform everything into an alien landscape. All I can see are the glowing heat signatures.