Page 24

Max

"Where is Mike?" Alexei narrows his eyes at us.

"Family emergency," Dad says. "We had to fill in for him today."

I glance at Nick, who raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

Mike usually handles business with Alexei, but his wife was in a car accident yesterday.

He said it wouldn't be a big deal if we went instead and that he'd call ahead.

But as this Russian boss glares at us, eyes darting between the three of us like a metronome, I question if Mike sent us here to die.

Ever since we killed Sam, I never trusted Mike. Sure, the wire transfers stopped, but maybe he was smart enough to quit stealing from the family once his soldier was killed on his behalf.

My ears perk up at Alexei's men surrounding us in this barren warehouse .

"He didn't call you?" Dad asks.

"No."

"Then he made a mistake."

Alexei says nothing, leaving us hanging.

I want my gun in my hand, but we thought this would be a friendly meeting—or as friendly as meetings go with Alexei—so it's tucked in my waistband. But I don’t know if that fucking matters, anyway.

Alexei’s soldiers are equipped like they’re prepared to see war.

"Look," Dad says. "All we're trying to do is look at the shipment before sending money. If you aren't comfortable with that, we can leave and try another day. No big deal."

"That's not acceptable," Alexei sneers. "You still owe us from the last shipment. Mike said he would pay today and instead sends you three empty-handed."

Dad glances at me, and I'd kill to talk this through with him and Nick. Either Alexei's trying to squeeze a double payment from us, or Mike has completely fucked us over.

Dad raises his hands in surrender. "Let me call him. I'm sure it's a misunderstanding."

None of the Russians respond, but guns click when he reaches for his phone. I feel useless as he tries Mike but keeps getting voicemail. My palms sweat—Mike would normally have his phone ready for a meeting like this. Dad shakes his head at me, looking defeated before turning to Alexei.

"I'm going to try my father. "

Grandpa answers, and Dad explains the situation. My grandfather has someone check Mike's house, and after some long minutes, they find it empty.

"What hospital is his wife in?" I ask. I try to stay quiet in these meetings and let the leaders talk, but I wonder if the car accident is just a story.

Dad relays the question, then pauses. "He doesn't know. Mike said they didn't want visitors."

That's a red flag. I have a sinking feeling Mike took the payment money and is sitting on a beach somewhere abroad.

Turns out Sam was innocent; he died for nothing.

Dad puts the phone on speaker. "Alexei," my grandfather says, "I apologize for this and we will pay for the last shipment."

"We want the money now." Alexei's demeanor is cold, calculated.

"You can add whatever interest you see fit."

"I no longer trust you people. I want cash now."

Grandpa pauses, then sighs. "I'll send someone up. There's no need for any—"

One of Alexei's guards sneezes.

A loud sneeze echoing through the warehouse.

Then a gunshot behind me.

My hand flies to my gun as I tackle Alexei, slamming his face against the concrete. Pistol trained on his head. He spits something in Russian—probably curses—as his nose bleeds.

I look up to see his guards looking shell-shocked. Some aim at me, some at Dad and Nick, some just look confused .

Nick drops to his knees, clutching his side as blood flows. He looks shocked, the injury not registering yet.

"Someone talk to me!" Grandpa's voice jolts from the ground. "What the fuck happened?"

In the chaos, Dad must have dropped his phone for his gun. Grandpa has no idea if his son or grandchildren are alive.

"Nick got shot," Dad says. "Seemingly by accident."

Alexei cuts him off to scream at a young soldier. By his guilty expression, he's the one who either pulled the trigger or sneezed.

"He's still conscious but hit in the stomach. Max has Alexei." Dad nods at me as Nick grimaces in pain.

My grip on Alexei's hair tightens as I consider outcomes. If I shoot him, we're dead. We're outnumbered.

But if we take too long, Nick bleeds out.

Color drains from Nick's face. His shirt and jeans are soaked with blood.

"He needs pressure on that wound." I nod toward Nick.

Dad points at me. "Don't move a muscle, Max." He sets his gun down, unbuttons his shirt, and guides Nick to lie down, using the fabric to slow the bleeding.

"No one else needs to get hurt," Grandpa says. "Alexei?"

"Agreed," he says beneath me, accent thick.

"Good. Junior, update on Nick's condition."

"Fuck, it's bad. Can't stop the bleeding." Dad's tone worries me while Nick stays hidden from my view.

I glare at the incompetent bastards who caused this. Their guns train on me, but they're white noise. All I can think about is Nick's survival.

"You two should get out of here," I blurt. Their side only cares about Alexei's survival. Dad and Nick should leave safely.

"Max," Grandpa says. "Let me handle this."

I try to steady my shaking hand by pressing harder against his skull. I've been in gunfights before, but nothing this drawn out.

"Alexei," Grandpa continues. "If my family suffers more harm, I'll come after yours with everything. I won't be fair. I'll target any woman or child you care about. Understand?"

My heart pounds. He's not bluffing. My grandfather is fair, sometimes forgiving, but can be ruthless. That's the way you need to be to have any hope of surviving in this world.

"Yes," Alexei growls.

"If they walk out without more bullets, I'll pay double for the last payment. And if Mike stole from us both, I'll hunt him down and deliver him to you. Alive."

"Fine."

"We have an agreement?"

"Yes."

"Nick's unconscious!" Dad shouts.

"Max, step away from Alexei and walk to your father. Keep the gun aimed at him the whole time."

My eyes stay on Alexei as I comply, but I notice the blood pool around Nick .

Alexei stays down, his men motionless. Dad nods and grabs the phone.

"We're backing away," he tells both Grandpa and the room.

He grunts, dragging Nick by the legs. I'd kill to help get my cousin out faster as he leaves a blood trail.

But I don't blink, keeping the gun on Alexei.

It feels endless, but we reach the bright sunshine, slamming the door.

"Let's hurry the fuck up,” Dad grunts. I holster my gun, relieved they're not pursuing us. We carry Nick to the car, and I sit in the back, pressing his wound.

"Fuck," I whimper. His body feels cold, barely reacting to the pressure.

Dad drives, telling GPS to find the nearest hospital. "Only five minutes," he says. “You fucking hang in there, Nick!"

I try to keep my shit together as Dad swerves through lanes, speeding to the hospital.

Nick rocks his head slowly. "S...nah," he whispers. Then again. “Sa…vnah.”

"Savannah?" I ask, knowing what he means. "I'll call her at the hospital. You'll see her soon." Panic floods me as I wonder if he'll survive until then. "I promise."