Page 146 of Wicked Proposal

Lee’s gaze fixes on me, filled with suspicion to the brim. For once, I can’t fucking blame him. “I see.”

“I don’t believe you were due for a visit,” I say, swiftly changing the subject. “Not until the end of the month.”

Mia’s eyes widen, just a fraction. If she’s shocked that I memorized her CPS appointments on top of her work schedule, she clearly has no idea what I’m capable of. When someone’s mine, they aremine.

“I, um… yes,” Mia stammers. “Guess this must be a drive-by.” She’s trying to make a joke, but only Mrs. Deloera offers a polite chuckle.

“I’d like to see the child now,” Lee cuts in, practically sniffing the air.

Jesus Christ.I’ve never seen a more punchable face in my life, and I’ve been in a room with Bradley Baldwin.

My fist clenches at my side, but Mia’s hand quickly skims over my knuckles. A silent“please, don’t make this worse.”

Reluctantly, I let out a breath and unclench. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years as a Bratvapakhan,it’s to recognize when I’m stepping into somebody else’s fight. It’s one of the rules of our creed: never rob a brother of their battles.

And Mia might not be a brother, but here, on her personal battlefield, she’s as much a soldier as any of my men.

Lee’s foot starts tapping the floor. “Now would be good,” he presses. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Mia’s smile is tight, twitchy. Heryou’re lucky I swore an oathsmile, with a side of wistful thoughts about morgue drawers in need of a new occupant.

She leads the two caseworkers into Eli’s room. “Eli! You’ve got visitors.”

The boy’s head pops up from a pile of clothes and plushies. “But we’re gonna be late,” he protests.

“Late for what?” Lee prods. His eyes dart immediately from the clothes to the open suitcase on the floor. “Going somewhere?”

Mia’s face pales. “Not rea?—”

“We’re going on a mission!” Eli squeals. “To be spies!”

Lee’s brow knits. “And where, exactly, will this mission be taking place?”

“Russia!”

His gaze zeroes in on me. “Is that so?”

“Of course not,” Mia laughs awkwardly. “That would be?—”

“None of your business,” I cut in. Letting Mia fight her own battles and letting her take psychic damage from thismudak’s attitude are two very different things. She’s had two panic attacks in front of me—I won’t let this become the third. “Would it,Mr. Lee?”

His jaw flexes. “Actually, it is, Mr. Johnson. It just so happens that Eli Winters is in our custody as well as Ms. Winters’s. And if you’re taking him to Russia?—”

“Montana,” I correct.

“Montana?”

“I own a cabin there.”

Technically, it’s a ten-thousand square foot chalet made of cedar and oak, at the center of a thousand acres of woods, with a private landing site and hunting grounds.

But as far as Mr. Lee is concerned, “cabin” works just as well.

“Ms. Winters and her son will be back here by Sunday. He will not miss school.”

“That’s good to know,” Lee says with a touch of sarcasm, “but I’m afraid it doesn’t matter. Montana isn’t in the state of New York.”

“I wasn’t aware we were debating middle-school geography.”