Page 7 of The Primary Pest (Iphicles Security #1)

“We wait for a replacement vehicle.”

“So we’ll remain here for now?” Dmytro glanced toward Ajax when he said that as if he had to steel his resolve. “We’re stuck here?”

“The breakdown gives Zhenya the time to set up decoys, so we sit tight and see how things play out. I need to catch a few winks anyway.”

“Can I spa, at least?” Ajax asked. “If I can’t swim, can I at least spend a little time in the hot tub? It might relax me. I’ll sleep much better.”

Dmytro smirked. “The bedspread is bad, but slightly above room temperature human soup water is all right?”

“Hello, chlorine.” Ajax shrugged. “You don’t have to understand. You just have to remember I’m the primary .”

“That’s true, but your parents are the client.”

“And my parents love me.” Ajax wasn’t above playing the baby billionaire card if he could stretch his muscles out in a hot tub and it helped him sleep. “They want me to be happy.”

A slight frown dented Dmytro’s forehead. “The video that started those death threats was”—Dmytro showed the first sign of humor—“surprising for someone who worries about germs.”

“Alcohol and I are frenemies,” Ajax admitted about the rant and the subsequent confessions—among which was the delight he took in certain sex acts that no one with a germ phobia would consider. “Alcohol loosens me up, but obviously that can backfire.”

“Obviously.” Dmytro spoke in sympathy. “I once drank so much I entered the wrong house. My wife—”

Ajax waited, but Dmytro didn’t finish his sentence. Ajax chose not to ask. Dmytro wore an expression so hollow he didn’t dare.

“What are your daughters’ names?” he asked instead.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dmytro answered, “Alexandria and Penelope. Sasha and Pen. Sasha is the elder.”

“We could go down to the spa and talk there,” Ajax offered hopefully. “If we spa, you can make sure no one in this fine establishment kills me while I warm up. It’s really cold on the coast, isn’t it?”

“Should have thought of that before you gave your scarf and hat away.”

He flushed. “I didn’t—”

“Didn’t you?” Dmytro lifted his brow.

Ajax turned away to rub warmth into his shoulders. He still felt Dmytro’s cold stare. That was okay because now that he knew Dmytro had adorable little girls, he seemed warmer despite his icy eyes. More human. He turned back because he wasn’t done pleading for a trip to the spa room.

“Please?” The puppy-dog eyes only worked on his father, but he tried them anyway. “I promise I’ll observe every rule you set forth if you let me go.”

Dmytro shook his head. “No.”

“What could happen?”

Dmytro cursed.

“You should speak English,” Ajax told Dmytro. “Or I should learn Ukrainian or whatever you speak. I could do that if you gave me my laptop back.”

“Then I’ll just switch to Russian or Polish. Since I don’t want you to understand me, I would simply switch to another language.”

“No need to be hostile.”

“When you need to know something, I will tell you very clearly in English. You have your bags. Where would you like to change?” He glanced at his watch. “I believe the spa closes at ten, so if you want to go—”

“Really?” Ajax tried not to leap for joy.

“Did I not speak English?”

“Thank you!” Ajax got his big bag, unzipped it, and found his swim gear easily. “I really need this.”

Dmytro picked up his pilot case and said, “Take that to the bath and change. I’ll change out here. Knock when you’re ready, bring towels, and we’ll make our way down together. You stay behind me. You stay low.”

Ajax laughed. “You make it sound like a military operation.”

“It might as well be. Think about it. The house we planned to use was compromised. Now the car we used is disabled.”

Ajax nearly went down the rabit hole trying to calculate the odds of that happening. He stopped himself with effort. “Coincidences happen all the time, Dmytro.”

“Or someone is intentionally herding us into a trap.”

The words made Ajax’s heart plummet. “You don’t actually believe that.”

“No, I don’t.” Dmytro sighed. “That kind of conspiracy is normally reserved for bigger problems than upstart podcasters.”

“Right? If someone really wanted to kill me, why not just pop me coming out of the gym and save yourself the trouble of sending all those stupid letters? Whoever has been threatening me is doing it because they’re too lazy to come after me. They’ve had ample opportunity.”

Dmytro’s jaw tightened, but he shooed Ajax into the bathroom, which was perfectly, tragically dated.

Earth. Tone. Tiles. Like being in the Museum of Natural History.

Ajax hoped Dmytro didn’t make him live in there.

There was barely enough room for the toilet and bath.

He closed his eyes for a minute and reminded himself to breathe.

Presumably normal people didn’t mind seeing one another change. Dmytro must have issues on that score. God, how disappointing for Mrs. Dmytro if he had a small dick.

Ajax stripped down and slipped on his trunks before folding his clothes neatly. He chose two towels and tapped on the door.

“Come.”

“Are you decent?” The sight when he stepped out of the bathroom—Dmytro wearing a Speedo bikini bathing suit like some European gigolo—made Ajax’s eyes pop out of his head, owooga .

On Dmytro, everything that was wrong with bikini suits was right.

Dmytro sat to put on sandals before slipping a Tommy Bahama linen shirt on like an afterthought. He put his phone in his shirt pocket.

Ajax took in the breadth of his shoulders, long legs, package, and… weapon? Ajax’s breath caught. Dmytro’s gun—large and dark and deadly—lay beside him on the bed. While it was intimidating as hell, it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the man himself.

“Here’s the towel you asked for.” An inconvenient rush of hot longing made Ajax’s blood speed south. He handed one towel over and kept one strategically positioned against his groin.

“Thank you.” Dmytro barely acknowledged him. He picked up his weapon and folded it into the towel as if they were simply going to the pool to kill someone. Nothing to see here . Ajax waited while he lifted the curtain and peered out.

Dmytro glanced back at him. “You do everything I say, immediately, even if it doesn’t make sense. You follow instructions.”

“Understood.” The words made perfect sense, of course, but following orders wasn’t Ajax’s superpower, and explaining cognitive dissonance to this hulking Ukrainian GI Joe supermodel with a gun wouldn’t get them to the spa in time to use it.

Instead, he agreed to go along and get along. He got a delightful mental image of Dmytro giving his little girls the same do everything I say speech when he took them to the park, and somehow that relaxed him enough to make him smile.

Dmytro did a double take, narrowing his eyes as if he were trying to read Ajax’s thoughts.

How did the old saying go? Dazzle them with brilliance or baffle them with bullshit.

Ajax followed Dmytro closely behind while they snuck down the back stairs.

He clung to the shadows beneath the motel’s gallery.

He studied Dmytro’s broad back at great length, if only to keep from looking at his tight, perfectly round ass.

Ordinarily, Ajax wasn’t a size guy. Not primarily.

He hooked up with other geeks and gamers when he wasn’t dating a man he was serious about, and most, like himself, still had some growing to do.

Dmytro had no need to get bigger. He’d burst his skin if he ate a single pumpkin seed—such was the iron inside the tamperproof steel case that was Dmytro.

As they walked around the fenced-in pool together, Ajax longed to touch Dmytro’s skin, to feel the muscles ripple beneath as he took each step.

They entered the damp warmth of the spa room together.

A burst of happy memories filled Ajax, along with the irresistible scent of chlorine and cedar.

The pebbly surface of a slip-proof floor grabbed at his shower shoes, making them grip when he walked.

He crossed to a well-worn bench and left his towel to explore one of two saunas first.

“You like it wet or dry?” he asked, as he checked the insides of each enclosure to make sure they were alone.

The saunas were nice-sized, but he didn’t think he could sit in one for longer than a few minutes.

Airplanes and private jets were bad enough.

But these were way, way, way too small to spend any length of time inside.

“Neither. I’m only here to babysit.”

Besides being insulting, the words were a major let down. “You’re not coming in?”

“You go.” Dmytro’s tone didn’t leave too much room for argument. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Then why’d you put on a swimsuit?”

“To blend in.”

That was absurd. “I hate to tell you—”

“Plus, I didn’t want to sweat through my clothes. It feels like Bali in here.”

“It’s not fair to you if you can’t go in.”

“Why should it be?” Dmytro’s amusement wasn’t very flattering. “I’m working. I’ll wait out here.”

“All right.” Ajax slid a glance his way. He hadn’t acted stupid yet. Now if he could only remember how to breathe. “How do I know you won’t lock me in?”

“You don’t.”

“But—”

“Get in, or you’ll lose your chance.” Dmytro sat with his towel on his lap. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, not play stupid pranks.”

Ajax couldn’t resist the joke. “Um, is that a gun in your towel or—”

“Yes.” Dmytro’s face held no humor. “My rule is, if I take it out, I get to use it on the first person who annoys me.”

“That’s not a very rational rule. Or safe.”

“Not for you,” Dmytro agreed.

“Just so you know, I don’t believe even a tenth of your tough-guy act because the little girls in that picture on your phone aren’t being raised by a monster.”

Dmytro turned away, but not before Ajax saw a hint of doubt.

Maybe the girls were a sore point, or maybe he simply believed he was a monster.

He certainly spent all his time trying to make Ajax think he was, but no way.

For all his sour looks and gruff demeanor, he couldn’t hide the loving expression on his face when he looked at his daughters.

He was totally in their pocket, and that, more than anything else, more than Dmytro’s skill set or the fact Ajax’s parents believed Iphicles Security was the best, made Ajax decide to trust him.