Page 21 of The Primary Pest (Iphicles Security #1)

“He’s an adequate waiter.” Dmytro arched his brow. “But… twice your age.”

“Is not. He’s… thirty-five, at most. I’ve dated men older. And anyway, my family would be totally elated if I found someone nice, even if they were on a first-name basis with Adam and Steve.”

“Hmph.” Dmytro literally grunted while Ajax continued to watch the waiter move gracefully around the small restaurant. Frankly, at that point it wasn’t because he was really into the man; it was because Dmytro looked ready to kill him.

“Let’s find you something to do that doesn’t involve you making trouble.” Dmytro wolfed down the rest of his food before opening the check wallet and laying a handful of twenties in it. “Something without death threats or—”

“And leave you guys without a job?” Ajax asked. “You’d hate that.”

Crack , crack , crack . The window behind Ajax’s head shattered.

Dmytro’s body hit Ajax like a wall of meat, and they crashed to the floor with such force Ajax thought Dmytro might have been hit. Bartosz drew his weapon and hovered over them, searching past the broken window for the threat.

“Dmytro.” Ajax tried to get up, but Dmytro laid a huge hand in the middle of his back.

“Stay down .” Bits of glass rained from his hair.

“But are you okay?”

Dmytro’s “Fine” was music to his ears. “Bartosz?”

Someone shouted, “He’s got a gun!” and pandemonium broke out over the small crowd, People turned tables over, fleeing, slipping in food and spilled drinks and broken glass as they fled toward the back of the restaurant to escape the danger coming from the front.

One woman fell, and Ajax saw the exact moment a man accidentally stepped on her wrist. He winced at the pain on her face as it broke and moaned with her.

“This is all my fault.”

This was because he hadn’t taken the threats on his life seriously. Because he’d never believed the coincidences that led them to this place could be connected. Now he had to face the terrible certainty that he really was in danger, and his only thought was how?

How could this be happening? None of the threads connected, except…

Dmytro grabbed Ajax by the shirt collar and pulled him behind a serving station. Cursing fluidly, he held Ajax still to dust glass off his hair and shoulders and check him for injuries.

Ajax threw himself at Dmytro. Their lips met and a shock of electricity zinged through him. He had a moment of realization, Dmytro hadn’t pushed him away. In fact, he had deepened the kiss and now their tongues met and their breaths mingled sweetly.

Ajax pressed closer. Dmytro wrapped his arms around him. Only the sounds of panic and pain broke them apart.

They stared at each other. Ajax licked his lips, tasting Dmytro’s heat and his desire on them.

Wind scattered napkins and paper menus while Dmytro gently cupped Ajax’s bruised jaw with his large hands. God how he wished Dmytro had kissed him in the sauna at the Sea View Motel. Or in their room where they didn’t have fifty pairs of eyes on them, where they could have done something about it.

“Are you all right?” Dmytro’s gaze held his with gratifying desperation. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m okay.” Ajax felt all right. Only he felt all wrong too because there it was—he’d gotten exactly what he’d wished for: Dmytro’s full attention. Dmytro’s lips and hands on him. Dmytro giving him a look of such ashen concern he could not possibly be as indifferent as he’d appeared.

But at the same time, Ajax had a moment of clarity.

Everywhere they’d gone, there had been some unexpected mishap.

This could not possibly be a coincidence.

Someone in the Iphicles organization had to be involved. Ajax met Dmytro’s gaze, wondering if the same thing would occur to him. Despite his painful longing, he wondered too whether trusting Dmytro and Bartosz was wise, considering.

Bartosz returned out of breath, presumably from chasing the shooter.

“Long gone,” he told Dmytro. “But we need to board now. The car is compromised. We’re compromised.”

Sirens signaled the arrival of police.

“I don’t feel so well.” Ajax felt exposed, confused. Filled with adrenaline, his perfect outlet shuffling off what passed between them like it was nothing. Ajax’s head spun now that the danger seemed to have passed.

Ajax stood awkwardly. He raised his hand to his lips.

They still tingled from the press of Dmytro’s lips.

He felt hot and cold and confused, and his stomach lurched.

Bartosz wrapped a strong arm around his waist and led him to the bathroom where he found a stall and got sick.

He’d just eaten, goddammit. Everything came up painfully.

Dmytro stayed away, of course, but Ajax heard him arguing with Bartosz outside the tiny—airless—bathroom.

They exchanged furious, guttural words. In English, Bartosz said they had to move.

Dmytro agreed. Ajax joined them after he cleaned up and washed his sweaty face.

Green-tinged skin was not a good look on him.

“Look up.” Ajax followed his gaze and saw bullet holes in the ceiling about ten feet from their table. Curious, he glanced back toward the docks.

The shots had come from that direction, and whoever had fired on them could not have been trying to hit them. The shots had been aimed too high, almost certainly missing diners on purpose.

What did that even mean? Was his would-be killer playing with him?

Ajax sat numbly in the kitchen with Dmytro’s jacket wrapped around him while their waiter helped customers retrieve their belongings and informed them everyone had to wait and give a statement to the police.

Something about Dmytro’s body language made Ajax uneasy as hell. He’d gotten a lot of threats in his time as Ajax Freedom. He’d never believed them. He wanted to pretend his parents were overprotective and Iphicles was milking the job for cash, but no.

Might one of the threats be legit?

Other people had gotten hurt, and this could not go on.

Dmytro returned, kneeling next to his chair, rubbing warmth into both of Ajax’s hands before he even realized they were cold.

“Ajax,” Dmytro began, “it’s time for you to acknowledge we have a problem.”

Ajax nodded. Tears burned his eyes. He put his hands on Dmytro’s face, gripping his solid, lantern-like jaw between his palms. “Please help me. My parents will be so sad if anything happens to me.”

Sorrow limned Dmytro’s features. “Ajax, I will be sad if anything happens to you. But from now on, you must trust me. You can’t argue with every word I say.”

Ajax shook his head. “I won’t.”

“Thank you.” Dmytro drew him into a warm embrace that shot electricity throughout his entire body. He could barely move. Barely think. Dmytro rocked him like a child, sharing his warmth and breath and strength. Ajax could find no words to thank him.

“We will go to the boat as soon as we’re done here. Don’t be afraid, little mink.”

“Oh, Anton .” As soon as the name was out of his mouth, Ajax gasped in shock and shame. It had simply been there on his tongue, old and comforting. He knew it wasn’t Anton holding him. He knew it. He just wished it was, maybe. But that was impossible, and it probably hurt Dmytro’s feelings.

Dmytro shot him a wry glance. “My name is—”

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I just—The name just came out. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine,” Dmytro said gently. “I wish Anton was here too, more often than you know. Come. Bartosz says we can hide in the pantry until the police arrive to question us.”

Ajax went.