Page 5 of The Primary Pest (Iphicles Security #1)

The old man giggled liked Poppin’ Fresh being poked by a giant finger.

He was obviously as delighted by Ajax’s antics as Ajax himself was.

Dmytro covered his shame with a grunt, and Bartosz swallowed a laugh.

Ajax lapped up their discomfort like a Popsicle on a hot summer day, which was not the sort of image Dmytro should picture.

Still, Dmytro couldn’t get the idea out of his head.

You can’t be serious. You can’t be stupid enough to find this awful boy… amusing.

“Bartosz, you deal with the car.” Dmytro could not afford to let Ajax derail his train of thought.

“You could have it towed to Colin Cuthbert’s place. He’s the best. Works with all the fancy new computers on wheels, but the soonest he’ll get to it is tomorrow.”

“Newfangled stuff,” Ajax said without mockery. “Unlike your motel. Which is a fucking classic.”

“Nah.” The old man smiled. “It’s just old.”

“I like old. It’s charming.” Ajax seemed to be talking about the old man too. Dmytro watched the blush his words drew. “Is the pool heated?”

“You are not going to swim in the pool.” Dmytro could think of nothing worse than watching an utterly defenseless Ajax lolling half-naked in a pool. Anyone could fire a rifle from any window in the motor court. “It’s indefensible .”

The clerk glanced up at the word. “Literally or figuratively?”

Bartosz asked, “Do you have what we need or not?”

The old man sighed. “209 and 211 up the stairs on the right-hand side and all the way down. We have cable television and free Wi-Fi. Sign on to SeaViewGuest. Password is Nachos with a capital n . I warn you, the ice machine will drive you crazy.”

Dmytro let his eyes fall on Ajax. “Among other things.”

Their host typed as he spoke. “The rooms are all nonsmoking. You want two? Two doubles in each okay?”

“Yes, please.” Bartosz took his Iphicles American Express card out and signed the paperwork for their stay. “I don’t know how long we’ll need it.”

“Bartlomiej Kowalczyk.” He read Bartosz’s name off the card before offering his hand. “I’m Carl Lents. The rooms will be here as long as you need them. Like I said, people tend to pass us by on their way to better places. Sometimes you’d think they didn’t even notice we’re here.”

Ajax’s stomach growled loudly in the silence that followed Carl’s cryptic words.

“Where’s a good place to eat around here?” asked Dmytro.

“Depends on what you like?”

“Takeout,” Dmytro insisted. “Or delivery.”

Carl pulled an orange flyer out of the drawer beneath his computer. “Here’s a list of restaurants that deliver. On the back, you’ll find the places where you can pick up takeout. I suggest, though, that you head to Nacho’s Bar. The food there is good, and they have live music.”

“Awesome.” Ajax snatched up the leaflet while Bartosz and Dmytro picked up their bags. “I want to eat there.”

“We’ll discuss it in the room. Follow me. We need to get settled in and deal with the car before we think about food.”

Dmytro eased out the door and into the crisp, salty air. He needed a shower. Being carsick made him feel unclean. On top of that, he wanted to check the place out.

They marched to the stairway, up the stairs, and along the gallery. If there was anyone else in the motel, they were out or already asleep. He ushered Ajax into one of the rooms.

“Dmytro, stay with him until I get the car taken care of.”

“I need a shower.”

“And I need to have a look around and call someone to tow the car,” Bartosz reminded him. “Or have you forgotten protocol so soon in the face of—”

“Fine.” Dmytro flung his bag on the bed closest to the window before handing the orange leaflet over. “You go. At least order some food.”

“I will. Be nice to the primary.”

Ajax waved. “The primary would be me. Be nice.”

In their shared language, Dmytro said, “You have thirty minutes, because if I don’t get a break from this kid soon, I will kill someone. There’s a fifty-fifty chance it will be you.”

“I hear you,” Bartosz replied. “Don’t get bent out of shape. I’ll bring something to eat for now. We can decide how long a leash our boy will get later.”

After Bartosz left to check out the motel’s security and call for a tow, Dmytro slid a look Ajax’s way.

Perhaps he should speak to him. It paid to put the client at ease.

There was no reason, after all, that he had to act tough.

That kind of treatment worked for one kind of client—captain-of-industry types who expected security to be invisible and lethal.

But for a babysitting job like this one?

As Bartosz pointed out, they were in California, not Kazakhstan.

Perhaps being quiet, polite, and well-meaning would be enough.

He tried out a smile, and Ajax flinched as if he’d slapped him.

Okay. Maybe his smile wasn’t awesome. His daughters told him their friends found him frightening—something about his light eyes made people uneasy.

But come on . He wasn’t a troll… He had the same looks his brother Anton had.

Fifteen years older than Dmytro, Anton was considered handsome as a fairy-book prince by most of the women they’d known growing up.

But Anton had been raised by their mother, who’d died when Dmytro was only six, and maybe it was her soft side, her sweetness, that tempered the rough discipline their father had forced on them both.

She had imbued Anton with charm that Dmytro didn’t possess.

Given time to grieve and age, their father had only grown ten times meaner.

Dmytro had been smart enough to tear any softness out of himself before his father could beat it out of him.

Now it bothered Dmytro because Ajax was young and probably—rightfully—frightened. Except in certain useful situations, Dmytro didn’t like being thought of as scary.

“I’m not an ogre.”

“No, you’re the guy who’s going to curtail all my fun and freedom for the foreseeable future. I wish you were an ogre.”

Fair enough. They knew where they stood now. Dmytro didn’t like being thought of as a lead balloon any more than he liked being thought of as an ogre.

He was never going to get on the right foot with Ajax. But that wasn’t as important as keeping Ajax alive, so he decided to ignore him. Let’s see how you like that.