Page 33 of Silent Ties (Ruling Love #1)

Russet

H ome, apparently means a basement somewhere. Or a giant warehouse with basement vibes.

Max stuck me in a black SUV, the car peeling out.

I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to look back.

Max ran a hand down me, pulling away when I flinched. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, sliding away from me.

I pressed against the door, shaking my head.

“Any other weapons?”

I shook my head.

The rest of the car ride passed in silence. I watched the outside world, not understanding what I saw or where I went.

Wherever it is, it’s not good.

I assume I’ll die here. In this industrial warehouse, that’s empty except for a few metal chairs and a round table to the side.

If they put a tarp down I’ll know for sure.

Max keeps looking at me. When I gain the courage, I peek up only to find him glancing away.

That should tell me my fate right there.

The Zimins are all about loyalty. I’m the crazy bitch who put everything in jeopardy. And I still don’t know if it was worth it.

“What happened to Daisy?”

Max orders something to a guard in Russian.

“What happened to her body?” Hot tears burn my eyes. Sometimes I think I’m swaying, the floor tilting around me. I don’t care if it’s dirty, I want to lie down on the floor.

A metal door creaks open. Roma and Elijah appear, their faces solemn.

“Drink this.” Max holds out a water bottle. I don’t understand so he forces my fingers to wrap around it. “Drink it.”

It’s cold, dulling the sensation in my throat.

Roma awkwardly stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Uh, you look like you’ve seen better days, Russie.”

He shouldn’t use my nickname if he’s going to be part of the firing squad.

“What did you do with the body?”

“Which?” he trails off.

Elijah picks lint off his suit. “The body you’re talking about isn’t dead. Yet.”

My heart skips, then squeezes so painful I sway again.

“Jesus Christ, brother.” Elijah steps closer. “Get her some fucking chocolate or something.”

“It’s shock,” Roma kindly explains, his eyes shining with worry.

Why are two of the brothers nice while the third, my husband, stares at me with a death wish?

“Please just kill me,” I whisper.

Roma’s head snaps toward his brother.

Max sighs heavily. “Must you always think we’re going to kill you? ”

Tears well in my eyes. Isn’t that what they always want people to think?

Roma sits down. “We just have a few questions.”

He’s the good cop, then.

“Why don’t we get her some more water first,” Elijah suggests.

“So she can puke it up?” Dmitri strolls into the warehouse. I can’t tell what type of cop he is, especially when he nods and says, “Hey, kid.”

My eyes go blurry. Is this all a power play? Put me at ease, before finishing me off.

Me and Daisy. Both off to an early grave.

The Zimins talk quietly amongst themselves.

My eyes droop and I startle awake to find Lev sitting in front of me.

“That’s going to be some nasty crick in your neck.”

Someone pushed the table in front of me and half my body sags against it. I bite back a groan because he’s right. My neck burns when I move.

“How long have I been here?” Light floods in from high windows along the walls. It’s not the harsh gaze of the afternoon sun. It’s mild, softly peeking in.

Did I pass out for the rest of the afternoon and night?

“That’ll be the adrenaline.” Dmitri’s drinking from a coffee mug, acting like he’s at a brunch rather than an interrogation. Where the fuck did they set up a kitchen?

I find Max. He’s also got a coffee mug in front of him, but the caffeine doesn’t help the bruises under his eyes. They bore into me, before dismissing me.

“For the record he wanted to take you home, put you to bed.” Lev rolls up a shirtsleeve. Have they been watching me sleep for hours in this creepy place? “He really cares about you, you know that. Did you think about him before you tried to pull this shit off?”

“Why do you think I called Elijah instead of him.”

It’s my luck the bastards showed up together. I should’ve known the brothers were a lot closer than they appear. I couldn’t spend the time talking to Max. I needed to keep going, I needed to get to Daisy. And I knew if I heard Max’s voice. . .

“Everyone knows what you’re capable of now.” Dima sips his coffee.

Perhaps in a little bit, I’ll think to ask myself did I go too far? Or maybe I’ll wonder if I didn’t go far enough.

Lev starts with the soft questions. “Why’d you decide to go in?”

Hearing the interrogation begin, Elijah and Roma slink back in. They stand on either side of Max, faces drawn.

I frown. “Because Daisy needed help.”

“How did you know it wasn’t a trap?” Dima asks.

I didn’t but my eyes go toward Elijah. “What happened to her?”

The three brothers say nothing. Excellent soldiers to their father.

Lev leans forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees. Even slouched over he cuts an imposing figure. “And the Ghost. How do you know him?”

“I don’t.”

His brows lift. “You listed off a number to Elijah.”

“Which belongs to Tyler Mulligan,” I reply. “And he’s not the Ghost.”

I’ve seen Tyler hold a gun hundreds of times. It wasn’t him behind the mask. Besides, the Ghost had a physical build different from Tyler’s.

“Nancy Mulligan’s son,” Dima says from his chair. He cuts Max with an unimpressed look. “It didn’t come up in any of the background checks that the city’s best triggerman was her neighbor? ”

His praise of Nancy is subtle, but it’s there nonetheless.

“She taught you a thing or two,” he continues.

Lev isn’t going to be distracted, though. “How did you know about the Ghost?”

I shrug, not willing to answer.

“If you want answers about Daisy and her baby, you answer me first.”

Gone is the guy always welcoming me to the family parties. He’s cold, calculating, and unwilling to bend.

I try to swallow, wishing I had water. “I wasn’t 100 percent sure.”

He angles his head, contemplating me.

“Don’t be a stranger.” I study my dry, raggedy nails. I guess it’s nice that they didn’t tie me up. “That’s what Nancy used to always tell me. The last time I saw Tyler, he said don’t be a ghost.”

I’d already figured, that because the Ghost kept going after Marissa, the chances were high he grew up somewhere close by.

Part of me is glad it’s not Tyler, but that doesn’t make him safe from Lev. I selfishly gave Elijah his number, hoping for backup. My only hope is he knows how to go underground before the bratva comes sniffing around for their best lead.

“Tell me if Daisy’s dead or not.”

Lev raises a brow at the demand.

Out of the corner of my eye, Max’s jaw clenches and I just know. My heart beats painfully and I ball my hands into fists, leaning back into my chair, wishing I could curl into myself.

“The baby?” I ask, not ready for the onslaught of horror.

Lev surprises me, though. “A girl. Six pounds, seven ounces. Alive.”

Tears burn my dry, tired eyes. “Let me see her.”

Not a flicker of emotion passes his face. He’ll let me die here without the privilege of seeing Daisy’s baby .

“What happens now?” I ask, my chest cracking. “What will happen to her?”

He shrugs. “Social services.”

Fuck off.

Before anything else is said my phone on the table lights up with an incoming call. It goes dark.

A second later it rings again, the phone lighting up with an unknown number.

At least to me. “Answer the phone,” Dimitri orders.

His forcefulness has both Lev and Max side-eyeing him.

Thankfully, my hand isn’t shaky as I reach for it. I accept the call and under Lev’s harsh gaze, set it to speakerphone.

“Hello?”

“Russet Smith-Zimin, correct?”

The voice is assured, smooth, and somehow downright chatty despite the few words.

A bullet slices through the room. Max looks from me to the phone to his brothers. Elijah places a hand on Roma’s shoulder and Lev takes a deep, steadying breath.

As if I wasn’t already nervous.

“Yes,” I answer.

“Fantastic,” the crisp voice replies. “This is Ren Callahan. Do you know who I am?”

My mouth dries. “Uh, you took over for Aunt Macy.”

“The one and only. Anyway, I was just looking at my schedule. Would you be available to meet 8 p.m. tonight? Fujimori’s, you know where it is?”

Everyone knows where Fujimori’s is.

“Um.”

A slight laugh drifts down the line. “Lev, could Russet come to dinner please?”

I’ve never heard anyone teasingly speak to Lev like that before. She’s sarcastically disdainful and borderline insubordinate. Ren couldn’t give one fuck, and she somehow knows he’s right beside me, listening in.

He crosses his arm, leaning back. “Put her down with a plus one.”

“No, it’s invite only. Russet, I’ve got you on the books. See you soon.”

Ren ends the call. Lev rolls his eyes and I don’t know if it’s at Ren or because of the surprise on my face.

I never dealt with Aunt Macy but she’s a legend. All of Nancy’s jobs were lined up through the old woman known for her cigarette and oxygen tank combo.

“I’ve never met her before,” I say slowly.

Lev sighs, his forehead wrinkling. “Well, you’re not missing out on much.”

“What is it about?” Max asks, looking between his dad and uncle.

“Fuck if I know.” Lev stands, buttoning his jacket.

“She’s not going alone,” Max says.

“Ren’s rules.” Dmitri pulls out a cigarette, tugging the beanie on his head lower. “And you heard her. Russet goes alone.”

Lev and his brother leave first. Roma, with an awkward look, clears out next. Elijah, hands in his pockets, nods to me. I can’t tell if it’s sadness in his gray eyes.

I’m left with Max. The warehouse is too big and airy. The sunlight streaming through the windows casts it in gray rather than any cheery warmth.

The air tightens, clawing at me as I shakily stand from my chair.

“Do you fucking know what you did to me?” His voice sweeps over me, tiny shivers snaking along my skin .

He won’t look at me.

This is nothing compared to the time he found me eating pizza with Elijah.

A cold, dark abyss exudes from him.

“Do you fucking know what you did to me?” he asks again, one hand running through his hair. His voice is a low, tight tremor. “Answer me.”

I shake my head, not sure what to say.

“What was the fucking plan? Huh. Get yourself shot and killed. Get us all fucking shot and killed.”

“No!” Surprisingly, no tears come. His fury is never warm. It’s a bleak, frozen mountainside. The cold rage dulls me, a sadness creeping in.

“So you’re just stupid.” He steps toward the same black SUV we drove here. “Because otherwise you wouldn’t have fucking stood there while Davison had a gun to you.”

“Did you miss the part where I shot his cock off?”

Max stills for a second before his rage swells. “Did you miss the fucking part where he had a gun on you? You fucking stood at the railing, like it was nothing.”

At the time it was nothing. Davison, for all the trouble he’s caused, is a fucking gnat.

“He’s a shit shot.”

Max’s hand balls into a fist, hanging at his side. I strain to hear his words. “I swear to God if you ever do something so fucking stupid again, I will see to it that you never see the light of day again.”

I step back, trying to understand.

“Next time you pull something as stupid as what you just did, I’ll make sure you never leave the house again. Do you understand?”

No.

“Russet.” I didn’t notice him step closer. He leans into my side, his muscles shaking like he’s holding back. Instead of pulverizing me, he’s threatening to lock me up so I don’t get in trouble again.

His lips hover above my forehead. “You belong to me, sweetheart, and if you ever place yourself in danger again, I swear you’ll regret it.”

A beat goes by. And then two. I don’t stop shaking. “I don’t know if you hate me or not?”

“I don’t know if you hate me or not,” he shoots back.

What?

He steps away and I slide to the floor. “I’m not your precious Ghost, but I would’ve blown Marissa’s head off before she laid a hand on you.”

I awkwardly turn, staring up at him.

At first glance, he’s typical Max. Handsome, with stubble along his sharp jawline. Dark, mussed hair. Strong, veiny forearms on display with his hands nonchalantly placed in his pockets.

Disappointment mars his face, though.

His jaw spasms and the heat in his eyes burns me.

“You do not get to make unilateral decisions that involve you taking on an entire criminal operation by yourself.”

The words pelt at me, his voice hard and dark.

“Stand the fuck up.”

I curl my knees to my chest.

“Stand the fuck up,” he orders.

I haul myself up, my limbs stiff and sore.

He holds out his hand. After a minute of dumbly staring at it, he lifts it an inch higher, eyes flashing with a silent order.

I take Max’s hand, and he interlaces our fingers, dragging me over to the remaining SUV.

I think it’s just another way to assert power, his way of silently telling me I go where he leads. But when he slams my door shut and gets in the driver’s side, he takes my hand again, never letting it go as he drives us home.