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NO LIES

AIDAN

“ D id he hurt you?” I have to ask twice to get a response. Relief courses through me when Rory slowly shakes her head no. Her blue eyes—wide and full of terrors—are fixed on mine. I look down at Ivan’s body with an overwhelming desire to kill him again.

She’s lucky I was so close. After dropping her off, I pulled off down the next street, waiting for her text before leaving the area.

Gunshots ring out from the floor below and she jumps.

“Stay behind me,” I order. I hold out my hand to help her off the bed. Trying to keep my eyes on both her and the hall.

She hesitates for a moment, staring at my hand and back into my eyes before taking it.

I pull her up, keeping her behind me while not letting go of her soft hand. Moving cautiously back toward the hallway.

The shouts and gunfire exchange continue from the first floor as Koen takes on the rest of Volkov’s men. I’d heard their bikes arrive right before I found Rory in the guest room.

“Follow me and stay close.”

Her hand tightens around mine as I take us down the hallway, stepping around the body of the other Russian I took out before Ivan. The gunfire from downstairs has quieted.

When we reach the top landing, I peer over the edge.

“Koen?” I shout into the dark silence.

The familiar deep cadence of my brother’s voice yells up, “It’s clear. Come on down.”

I relax, turning back to face Rory. A mix of shock and confusion mar her beautiful face.

“Are you okay?” I ask, unprepared for how close to me I find her.

She nods her head quickly, her eyes darting around as she surveys the empty foyer from the upper landing.

I grip her chin, and she freezes while I bring her gaze to mine. “No lies,” I remind her.

Her eyes well up, but she blinks away the tears before shaking her head slowly back and forth.

With my free arm, I wrap it around the back of her and pull her into my chest, keeping her there until her breathing finally levels out.

“Aidan?” Koen calls up and I peer over the railing, spotting him at the bottom of the stairs watching us.

“C’mon,” I say to Rory, reluctantly releasing her from my hold. She follows silently behind me, pressing closer as we go to pass Koen, who motions toward the kitchen.

Various bodies lie strewn about the foyer, forcing us to step around them. Blood stains the polished marble floors. As we enter the kitchen, we find the rest of Koen’s men waiting around along with a bloody-faced Adrik Kostalov, standing over two men. Both are dressed in black tactical gear, hands zip-tied behind their backs, kneeling at the Russian Pakhan’s feet.

Adrik’s eyes snap to Rory before sliding over to meet mine. He gives what looks to be a nod of gratitude before turning his attention back to Volkov’s men at his feet.

Blood coats his face, soaked from a particularly nasty gash to the side of the head. Still, he’s on his feet, with his gun pointed square between the eyes of one of the Russians.

The gun goes off at the same moment Nikolai and a few of his Bratva cronies burst through the patio door.

Rory’s hand tightens on mine, fear of the shot or her brother, I’m not sure and Koen steps forward, angling himself between the newest arrivals and Rory and me.

“What the fuck is this?” Niko asks, raising his gun and looking between Koen and me, not quite sure where to point it.

“It’s all under control,” Adrik waves his son down. “It only takes one to tell a story.” The Russian Pakhan’s gun moves from the body to the man now pleading in what must be Russian at his feet.

Niko looks around wildly, taking in the bodies by the back door and the sight of the Irish standing around his kitchen. His gun is still pointed at me, but there’s uncertainty in his eyes. Koen rustled up quite the crew with next-to-no notice. Besides myself, it’s Liam, Jace, Mac, Jerrad and Garrett standing around the room, outnumbering the Bratva 2:1. We’re lucky that they were all at Last Call for closing time.

When Niko’s eyes catch sight of his sister at my side, they harden and he takes a step forward, forcing me to straighten my shoulders. The rest of the room grows tense with the movement.

“Take this one to the basement,” Adrik orders, oblivious to everything playing out around him, and Niko freezes. “I think what he has to say will be very enlightening.”

Niko gives me one last glare before following his father’s orders. He sends his men in with a nod. They pick Volkov’s man off the floor and drag him off to the Kostalov basement from hell. What goes on down there… Of course I’ve heard the stories. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.I don’t know of anyone more creative than Niko Kostalov.

The elder Kostalov holsters his piece and straightens, adjusting his suit that’s in quite the state of disarray before addressing both Koen and me. “The Bratva owes you a great debt for coming to the aid of both my daughter and me.”

He beckons for Rory to come to him.

With a moment of hesitation, Rory detaches herself from my side. She releases my hand and walks on wobbly legs to stand beside her father. Her chin is held high despite what almost happened in that bedroom.

Adrik places a bloody hand on her shoulder and she stiffens from the contact.

“We hadn’t heard from you regarding the Cartel deal… Figured we’d stop in.” Koen steps forward with a casual shrug, moving to lean against the kitchen island with his arms folded across his chest. “Looks like we had good timing.” He looks around with a pointed expression. “What did you do to piss off Ronan Volkov?”

I swear Adrik’s skin pales at the mention of the Volkov name, but it’s gone in an instant, the mask dropping into place while waving his hand flippantly through the air. “A misunderstanding. I’ll call Volkov up tonight and clear this up in minutes.”

Koen’s frown deepens and we exchange a look.

“I’m sure you know we are having a little party next week,” Adrik starts.

Little?

Kostalov’s birthday party has been the talk of the town for weeks. He’s made certain the city’s most influential players will all be in attendance. “I’m hoping you can come? We can discuss the terms of bringing the Irish in on the Cartel deal over a cigar, perhaps?” He smiles, though it doesn’t touch his eyes.

“We’d be honored,” Koen says as he straightens to his full height, pushing off the counter. “I look forward to discussing terms.” He steps forward, offering Adrik his hand, forcing Adrik to release his grip on his daughter in order to shake it. “Rory.” My brother offers her a cordial nod, which she returns before her eyes find mine.

I don’t say anything, and neither does she, as I follow Koen and the rest of the Irish out the door, her damn steely blue eyes telling me everything I need to know.