K. Alex Walker's Blog, page 13

Mature (18+) Audiences. Contains bad words and sex-y scenarios.

“You guys are going to love it here,” Ayesha said, her silver Land Rover Discovery’s lights blinking as they neared the vehicle. Mike had arranged for his and Xara’s things to be sent ahead to their villa out on the coast of Kapalua Bay while Ayesha picked them up to take them to her place for lunch.

He was a little guilty knowing how long it had been since he’d traveled to Maui, especially after they’d all promised Curtis that if anything ever happened to him, they would take care of Ayesha and what Curtis hadn’t known was his two sons.

She never got the chance to tell him they were expecting Theo.

For a while after Curtis’ death, Ayesha didn’t speak to them. She didn’t want anything to do with them, and none of them had blamed her. They’d had each other; she’d had no one. Her parents passed away when she was young and the aunt who raised her passed away two years after she married Curtis. However, when Theo was born, there was no way they were going to let her raise two young boys alone. They all flew out to meet the little guy, and Ayesha slowly let them back into her life from that point on.

Theo was currently on Mike’s back. Josiah walked next to his mother, already past her height, his face tilted down toward a tablet screen. He looked so much like Curtis, it was eerie, and considering that instead of playing a game he was reading a book, he’d inherited his father’s personality.

“So, Josiah,” Xara said, hurrying to fall into step next to him, “what are you reading?”

She was still new to the group, and as much as everyone had welcomed her with warmth and open arms, there were times it was obvious she felt awkward.

Josiah looked over at her and smiled. “It’s called Tristan Strong Punches a Hole in the Sky, Aunt Xara. It’s really good.”

Mike was so attuned to Xara’s expressions, he knew that when she smiled back at Josiah, it was because the boy had referred to her as his aunt.

“I was really into the Percy Jackson books,” Josiah went on. “Ma told me that my Dad liked to read too.”

Mike let Theo down off his back and opened the Rover’s back door. “He did,” he said. “I remember the first time I met him. He was always cracking jokes, reading books, and talking about how much he missed your Mom.”

He glanced at Ayesha.

She smiled and lowered her eyes.

“I look like him.” Josiah tucked his tablet and climbed into the SUV. “I’ve been looking at his pictures and I look a lot like him.” He shrugged. “At least, I think so. Joel does too.”

Theo scrambled in, and Mike secured the third-row seat before climbing in the second row in front of it.

Xara sat up front with Ayesha.

Ayesha pressed the ignition button. “Don’t forget your special vest, Theo,” she reminded, looking at her son in the rearview mirror.

Theo searched the floor in front of him, pulled up a navy-blue vest, and slipped his arms through the holes.

“I’m thomefing of a thuperhero,” he boasted, his missing front teeth altering his speech so that it sounded like he placed the letter F and Th in front of and between his words. “Mama thays I haff to wear a thpecial weighted fhest tho I don’t go fying away like I used to do at thchool.”

He pulled down a table attached to the seat ahead of him and grabbed a coloring book and crayons from a pouch next to it.

“He’ll forget we’re here once he starts in on his coloring.” Ayesha pulled out onto the road. “The drive’s not too long, so that’ll be enough to keep him stimulated.”

“How’s he been doing?” Mike asked, arms splayed along the back of the seat. The realization that he and Xara were truly on vacation was starting to sink in.

“Better.” Ayesha lowered her voice. “To clue you in, Xara, Theo’s a little more ‘fidgety’ than his classmates.”

Xara nodded. “I understand.”

Mike rolled his shoulders and sank further into his seat. Outside, the sun was high in the sky but it wasn’t hot or muggy. Palm trees bordered the sides of the roads in some places, thick trees with plumes of leaves in others. Xara gasped every few seconds because she either spotted tropical fruit or was in awe of the rock walls that cased in the roads.

Although they couldn’t see it yet, there was a sense that the ocean was always there. Ayesha drove with the windows down, so when there was a break in the tree line, the sound of waves filtered into the interior of the vehicle.

“This is amazing.” Fiber by fiber, Mike’s muscles relaxed. “Thanks for the suggestion, Eesh.”

“No problem.” She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “But, to be honest, I suggest getting away for nearly all the couples I meet who still have strong marriages but the daily stress of life is getting in the way. We don’t realize how much city lights, car exhaust, and just being away from trees and water can impact us.”

“That sounds like you’ll never leave, Hawaii.”

She laughed. “I used to say that, but I…I don’t know. Things have been weird for me lately.”

Mike’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a message from Julien.

“How’s that?” he heard Xara ask.

MEET AT ESHA’S.

ACQUAINTANCE OF POZZA.

INFO ON SARAYEV.

“Right Mike?”

He looked up into Xara’s eyes. “Hmm?”

She squinted at him, took a quick look at the phone, and faced forward without repeating whatever question it was she’d asked.

“Uncle Mike?” Josiah called, his changing voice breaking slightly. “Are you really a shadow?”

Mike nearly choked on his saliva. “A…shadow?”

“Yeah. I remember Dad telling me that about you. I mean, I was like four or five so I might not be remembering everything correctly, but he said you were like Spiderman.”

Mike coughed into his elbow. “Uh, well—“

“Thpiderman?” Theo’s head popped up. “Uncle Mike is Thpiderman?”

“He’s like him,” Josiah corrected. “Like, he can climb tall buildings and get into places nobody else can. At least, that’s what Dad said. He said that one time, you climbed up the side of a building that had like twenty floors without any kind of rope or anything.”

Xara dragged her palm down her neck, another expression he knew—she was on the verge of a heart attack.

“I had a rope.” He didn’t. “And it was only a five-story building.” It was thirty floors.

“And he said you jumped out of a helicopter and didn’t know you had a busted chute.”

Xara’s chest heaved, her face going pale.

“It wasn’t busted,” Mike said, hoping it appeased her anxiety, even just a little. “I mean, yeah, it didn’t open at the right altitude, but I was fine. There really wasn’t anything to worry about.” There was, however, a short period during the time the mechanism on the chute broke that he did think he was going to die. “No big deal.”

“That’s so cool.” Josiah grinned. “I want to do that.”

Ayesha jumped in. “Let’s table that discussion for another day. You still have a lot of time to think about what you want to do with your life.”

“Who’th that guy?” Theo asked. “He’th thcary looking.”

Mike looked out the window. A man was perched on the rim of the back of a pickup truck. One look at him, and he knew it was Julien’s contact.

“It’s rude to stare,” Josiah scolded his brother.

“Okay.” Theo shrugged and went back to his coloring. “Thtill thcary. Like Uncle Gio.”

“Uncle Gio’s not scary. He wouldn’t hurt us.”

Theo didn’t look up, wrist flicking a red crayon across the outline of a desert landscape. “Not uth…but he’th hurfing thomebody.”

Mike couldn’t help but smile.

Ayesha turned into a neighborhood where they passed homes sitting in the middle of spacious yards. They passed a guard that waved and opened a gate, and they drove a little farther before the house came into view.

A long strip led them right into the circular driveway at the front of the house. More palm trees towered high above the roofline in front of tropical shrubbery that bordered the front walkway. The garage door lifted and Ayesha pulled the SUV inside. A pang hit the center of Mike’s abdomen when he realized her vehicle was the only one in the three-car stall.

The exterior door in the garage deposited them in the kitchen. Recessed lights in the high, beamed ceiling made the space look massive. A modern kitchen overlooked a seating area with white furniture, and the white was offset by colorful pillows and accents in nooks, on bookcases, and on the coffee table. Enormous sliding glass doors opened to a large patio and an amazing beach view, the mountains as the water’s backdrop.

“You guys can take a look around, hang out.” Ayesha set down her purse and keys. “I’ll get lunch started.”

“Actually, I have to make a call.” Mike held up his phone. “I have to check in with Julien about something.”

Xara and Ayesha eyed him. Xara was curious. Ayesha was concerned.

“Everything okay?” Ayesha asked.

“Yeah, yeah.” He headed out the patio doors. “Everything’s fine.”

He jogged down the steps at the side of the patio into a big backyard that looked like a pasture. Only in the tropics could grass be this green, naturally. A month might not truly be long enough of a vacation for the kind of stress he and Xara were trying to tamp down.

When he reached a dense area of trees and grass, a voice called out to him. 

“The Shadow in the flesh and blood.” A tall man with dark hair pulled back into a half ponytail stepped from between the trees. “I am assuming I saw you coming because you wanted me to?”

“Dominik,” Mike greeted. They slapped hands. “I’m surprised you’re an acquaintance of Pozza’s. I didn’t know he had acquaintances.”

“Acquaintance?” Dominik laughed, shoulders shaking. Having gone to school in the U.S., he only had an accent when he was speaking to family, another Russian speaker, or wanted to intimidate. “We have an actual document that says ‘the Russian Mafia will not interfere with the movements of Giorgio Pozza.’ Without it,” he held up a scarred forearm, wrist, palm, and tilted his head to show a long scar on his neck, “I would be dead.”

Considering how deadly Dominik was on his own, it said a lot about Giorgio that he’d left the man with that many “reminders.”

“Sarayev,” Mike prefaced. “From what I understand, there’s a Chechen Mafia?”

“They’re small, but yes. After Chechnya gained its independence, the republic got chaotic as shit. Criminal organizations rose in power, and the Sarayev tiep, or clan, is one of the oldest and largest. They got into arms trafficking, oil smuggling. Had some Islamic extremist ties.”

Mike glanced back at the house to make sure Xara hadn’t come looking for him. At least, not yet.

“What do you know about Mosvar Sarayev?”

“Little bitch.” Dominik growled out a laugh. “Textbook definition of a pussy. Ramszyn Sarayev is the head. Argun and Mosvar are his two sons.”

“Were,” Mike corrected.

“I heard about that.” Dominik raised a brow. “You have something to do with that? Actually,” he held up a hand, “doesn’t matter. Makes my job easier. Anyhow, there’s no expectation for Ramszyn to hand the mantle over to Mosvar. Not without the son doing something big.”

Like killing his brother’s killer.

Mike smirked. “Should I be worried?”

Dominik ground out another laugh. “A normal man, yes. You? No. We keep surveillance on the Chechens. They sometimes think they have the balls to go up against the Bratva.” His accent rang out, deep, with the mention of the word. “But I did overhear that little Mos has been shopping for a hired killer.”

Mike stretched the muscles in his neck and glanced toward the house a second time. Xara was now on the patio, hand shielding her eyes as she looked out into the green.

“So much for a fucking vacation,” Mike said. They slapped hands again. “‘Preciate the information, but I have to go before I no longer have a wife to spend my time on Maui with.”

Dominik looked in Xara’s direction. “No problem. And yeah, you do that. You do that.”

“I thought you like dangerous men,” he teased. “Arch your back a little bit more, Xar.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” I should have dropped the subject, but I couldn’t. My brake line had been cut, and I was on a straightaway down the slope of Elias Mountain. “Why not have her mother drop her off if it’s easier?”

I blinked. In the split second that I’d blinked, his eyes were lifting, almost as if he’d been looking down at my mouth.

Without a word, he pivoted, storming out the way he’d blown in.

Nipples harder than ice, I flipped a bird at his broad, leather-covered back. Somehow, he must have seen it—evil did have a tendency to be omniscient—and he spun around in the doorway, pinning me with a hard glare.

“You know what?” I stepped from behind the desk and marched toward him. “I’m not going to do this with you anymore.”

If I’d had a chisel, I probably could have carved a new Mount Rushmore in the bone and muscle of his jaw which I noticed, as I drew closer, was pulsing.

I stopped in front of him. “Have Elena’s mother drop her off.”

His brows lowered, the skin between them wrinkling. “Did you just demand I do something?”

“This is my establishment.” I smashed the tip of my index finger into my palm. “And until you’ve learned to respect me and it, I don’t want you back here.”

“It’s a free country, Moss.”

I was seething, a wild animal ready to charge. “This is a private company, Cabral.”

“And if I don’t ‘comply’?”

I grabbed the lapel of one of the open sides of his jacket, dragged him toward me—well, me to him considering the man was like a monument—and used my other hand to grip the back of his neck to pull his mouth down onto mine.

In the middle of the entryway.

Where at least one of my staffers could see.

Damn it, Kerah.

Mature (18+) Audiences. Contains bad words and sex-y scenarios.

Mosvar clicked a mouse with his right hand, looking up over the top of his laptop every few seconds. The internet cafe was at about half capacity as people stood in line, large gaps between them, all waiting for oversweet coffee. His order sat on the table virtually untouched. He’d only managed one sip of the “candy” they referred to as black coffee in this country.

After Argun’s death, his father had shut down operations within their clan. No one could go or come without approval from the old man and multiple layers of security, including him. He’d assumed, after his brother’s death, his father would have gravitated toward him whenever he needed a second head to make decisions about running their family empire. Instead, he treated him like a suspect. It had been like trying to sneak out when he was a child just to pull off arranging this meetup.

That Asian son-of-a-bitch was the gift that kept on giving.

There were only a handful of men he could trust to keep information away from his father. They were the ones who he’d found enough dirt on to assure their loyalty, whether it was a drug problem, a second family, snitching only he knew about, their sexuality, or a place next to him in an orgy that had included the wives and daughters of several prominent world figureheads. His brother had claimed he didn’t have any men of his own, but he was currently looking at snapshots of the man he was sure had been in his suite. The man who’d killed Argun.

His initial plan had been to lay low and go into hiding. The man had already done him a favor by killing Argun. Although he knew he was probably next in line, retaliation hadn’t been anywhere on his radar. Now, it seemed like either apprehending or killing the man responsible for Argun’s death was the only way his father would see him as, at least, Argun’s equal.

But the photos on his laptop were blurry.

Ivan, the man of his who had a second family here in America his wife back in Chechnya knew nothing about, had taken the pictures. At least, he’d tried to. The Asian was hard to catch on foot as well as on film.

They didn’t know the Asian man’s name or anything about him other than the fact that he appeared to be good friends with the man called Beast, and he had a wife that would make for an excellent fuck. Ivan knew where the Beast lived but had declined every suggestion Mosvar had made about going there. He’d even threatened to tell Ivan’s wife about the family here in America, which would have more than likely resulted in Ivan’s father-in-law cutting off his cock, but Ivan had rather take his chances with Svetlana’s father than face the Beast alone.

So now, all he had was blurry pictures.

A man in a navy-blue tracksuit and sunglasses entered the cafe. When he spotted Mosvar, he headed over, pulled out a chair, and sat.

“Three million,” the man said.

American.

Mosvar grimaced. He had his doubts about an American being able to carry out this task, but another one of his men, Andrev—an orgy participant—had vetted him as highly-recommended.

“How will you find him?” Mosvar asked.

The man lowered his sunglasses. One eye had a scar that slashed right through. There was virtually no way the eye should have been spared. A mark like that usually resulted in shredded eyeballs and blindness and yet, this man had walked away without either.

“Three million,” the man repeated. “You let me worry about the rest.”

Mosvar jutted his chin in the American’s direction. “What happened to your eye?”

The man slapped a piece of paper on the tabletop. “Wire half the money to that account. I’ll have him dead in a week. I expect to be paid in under 24hrs after the task is complete.”

Mosvar stared at the paper like it was a foreign object and then slipped it into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t believe this man would be able to do the job. There was more to the Asian guy and, once he figured out what, he’d be better prepared to kill the man. Hell, maybe he’d do it himself.

Without another word, the man flipped his sunglasses back over his eyes, stood, and left the cafe.

* * *

“Ass up and face down is the same thing.”

Xara released the pillowcase from her teeth, but her fingers still gripped the sheets. “Mike, that’s not true,” she said, barely pulling in enough air to get the words out.

When the need to scream returned, she buried her face back into the pillow. They weren’t at home, and while she was sure the other couples got down just like they did, it was the middle of the day. Everyone was awake and bustling about, including their children. She didn’t want to force them to have any uncomfortable conversations later in an attempt to explain why it sounded like Auntie Xara was “dying.”

But…good Lord…he was hitting the very spot she needed. His strokes were slow and measured, teasing and torture. If this was them taking it easy to let conception happen—if it ever did—she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle it. By the end of it, she’d have damaged vocal cords, bad knees, and sore glute muscles. Very sore glute muscles. As it stood, this was Mike’s favorite position.

He stopped moving his hips. She sucked in a breath because she knew what was coming next.

His soft, warm tongue found the sensitive seam of her sex.

“Mike, I’m —”

Her climax put the rest of the words in a chokehold, effectively shutting them up. It wasn’t like she’d had to tell him. He knew that whenever she started panting and shaking her right leg, release was near.

He helped her come down with long, slow licks until she was moving away from overstimulation.

“Too much?” he asked, laughing. His teeth sank into the flesh of her behind, biting and kissing and licking. “Mmm…so beautiful. You are…damn, Xara. Every time… Every time…”

After giving her a moment to catch herself, she felt when he entered her again. A long groan rumbled from his throat and lifted into the air. He stroked, first long and slow, savoring the heat her body gave him. She loved that she could hear what her body did to him. She couldn’t imagine making love to a man who resigned to staying quiet the entire time.

She pushed on her hands and knees, back into him. He groaned again, breaths harsh and quick, and grabbed her hips to guide her. Turned on again, she closed the slight gap of her thighs and squeezed them together, putting pressure on her clit which hadn’t completely finished climaxing for the night.

His strokes grew deeper, harder.

“Mike…let me…damn, baby…on my back.”

“Nuh-uh, Xar.” He sucked in a breath, pumped faster. “Fun. Just…have…fun.”

He stopped moving and held onto her. A series of curses floated around them. His dick throbbed along her entrance. She tried not to think about it, to relax, but a small part of her still hoped this was it.

The mattress indented as he collapsed next to her. She slid onto her stomach, not wanting to turn over or move too much.

He reached down with one hand and grabbed a globe of her ass. “Were you trying to get a second one?” he asked, fingers kneading.

She turned her head to look at him. “Yeah, but it’s okay.”

“Turn over.”

“Mike, I can’t.”

He wrapped an arm around her, flipped her over, and hovered over her, palms on the mattress. She didn’t understand how he retained so much energy post-orgasm when all she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep.

It probably had something to do with the work he did.

“You agreed to let things happen naturally, Xar,” he said. “The stress of trying to plan every detail of making a baby is probably why we can’t. Think of our ancestors. They just fucked. No calendars, no apps, no ‘basal body temperature.’ Just good ol’ fashioned fucking.”

He lowered and flicked his tongue against her nipple. The point immediately rose to a peak, demanding more.

“Let me see you play with your pussy, Xar.” He dragged his tongue across her bottom lip, pulling away when she tried to pull it into her mouth. “Get yourself off, baby. Let me watch.”

He sucked the nipple into his mouth.

She slid her hand between her legs.

“Just like that.” His tongue flicked, mouth sucked.

She’d already been close, so the minute her fingers made contact, she was already on her way. The combination of his hot mouth, teeth, and tongue made her wet, made her ache.

He reached down and covered her hand with his. She slipped hers away until his thick, long, calloused fingers were stroking her, pinching her clit, slipping in and out. Her orgasm hit her like a brick wall, and he moved back up to her mouth and covered it with his, smiling as she bucked under him.

He left her, nipples damp and legs weak, and headed toward the bathroom.

“Lie with me?” she asked.

He stopped in the doorway. “Why’d you ask me like that? Do you think I won’t?”

“No.” Maybe. “It’s just that, after everything that happened with Mos…I mean, you know who, and our session with Ayesha, I was wondering if you’d just kinda hold me.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a washcloth. “You don’t have to ask. Don’t be afraid of me. I’ll never hurt you.”

The washcloth was warm as he swiped it over her sensitive skin.

“I’m not afraid of you. I just want to respect your boundaries.”

He returned the washcloth to the bathroom, lingered a little, and returned to climb into bed next to her. She automatically curled against him.

“I’ll never turn down the chance to hold you, Xar.” He kissed the top of her head. “Never.”

She nodded. Against her, he was more than a hard body. He felt like home. She didn’t know exactly how to explain it, but against him, everything fell into place.

“Okay.”

They spent the next few days at Ari and Julien’s before setting off for their trip back home. Ayesha reiterated that they come see her in Hawaii and take a break from what she called “the evils of this lifestyle.”

“You have everything?” Mike asked Xara before the pilot signaled they were about to take off. “You know how you like to leave things behind.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes at him, seat facing his. “I have everything. All we have to do it get home, repack for a vacation in Hawaii, and then have fun in paradise.” She squealed. “I can’t believe I’m going to Hawaii.”

Mike leaned back into the plushness of the seat. “You’ve always wanted to go?”

“For years.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She looked out the window. “We never had time. But, it doesn’t matter, because we’re going now. When are we flying out?”

He turned to his window. They were the only plane on the private strip. Initially, they were going to fly commercially, but he’d managed to convince Xara that changing their plans would be fine. She’d become almost neurotic about planning everything, and he knew it was her trying to get control of something. Her life felt chaotic, so she did what she could to control the aspects of it she could. Hopefully, the trip would help her get her sense of stability back.

The pilot announced they were getting ready for departure. He leaned even further into his seat to prepare for a nap when he spotted a car in the farthest corner of the area surrounding the hangar. The iconic Rolls Royce Phantom grille peeked between the low-hanging leaves that added to the privacy of the property. It wasn’t one of the guys; not even Giorgio owned a Phantom. “Maybe when I am in later years,” he’d said. Plus, they would have told him if they were coming to the airstrip instead of hiding out as if attempting to avoid being seen. Which this car was doing.

“Everything okay, baby?” Xara asked.

He studied the car a few seconds longer before giving her his attention. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

She didn’t believe him, he could tell.

He didn’t blame her.

When the plane began to taxi, the car backed out of its alcove and disappeared from sight.

“The Shadow in the flesh and blood.” A tall man with dark hair pulled back into a half ponytail stepped from between the trees. “I am assuming I saw you coming because you wanted me to?”

“Dominik,” Mike greeted. They slapped hands. “I’m surprised you’re an acquaintance of Pozza’s. I didn’t know he had acquaintances.”

“Acquaintance?” Dominik laughed, shoulders shaking. Having gone to school in the U.S., he only had an accent when he was speaking to family, another Russian speaker, or wanted to intimidate. “We have an actual document that says ‘the Russian Mafia will not interfere with the movements of Giorgio Pozza.’ Without it,” he held up a scarred forearm, wrist, palm, and tilted his head to show a long scar on his neck, “I would be dead.”

Mature (18+) Audiences. Contains bad words and sex-y scenarios.

Xara wondered if Mike felt as nervous as she looked. 

She could barely sit for longer than a few seconds before she was up, pacing the living room and cracking her knuckles. She’d been expecting to wait until Ayesha at least went back to Hawaii to speak with her, but they were all there now, Ayesha had said. They were staying for a few more days, so it only made sense for them to go ahead and speak now, Mike had argued.

Why did he look so calm?

He was supposed to be the nervous one. 

Then again, he did have more experience remaining cool under pressure.

“Xara,” he reached for her hand, “calm down. She’s our friend.”

“I’m calm,” Xara protested. “I’m just pacing because I need to hit my step goal for the day.”

He eyed her.

She sent him a shaky grin.

Joel walked into the living room. The bags underneath his eyes weren’t as deep as they’d been just a few months ago, his skin had returned to its natural, summer tan, and his eyes once again stood out like sapphires. Joel had some of the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen, like rare blue marbles with galaxies hidden within. She supposed it was only logical that not every relationship in the guys’ line of work was going to be successful. She and the other women had only talked about surface details of the difficulties. This life they’d all chosen to marry into was like being the spouse of a soldier in the middle of an active World War. 

In some ways, quite a few ways, it was crazy.

But love often required a dash of insanity.

“Ayesha’s in Ari’s office,” Joel announced. “She asked me to come check on you guys to make sure you didn’t run off.”

Mike shook his head. “The shipper came and picked up the car earlier to take it back to Texas, and Xara has a thing about paying for flight changes, so we’re pretty much stuck.”

Joel looked her way. “Xara? You’re going to wear a hole in the floor, honey.”

“I know.” She clamped down on her thumbnail with her front teeth. “I can’t stop, though.”

Joel held out his hand. “Come on, let me walk you over. And, you can take my hand. I’m safe territory. None of the guys will hurt me because Gage called dibs on it.”

A small laugh made its way through her system.

All the men had large hands, and Joel’s engulfed hers as they headed toward the office. His palms were rough, just like Mike’s. There were scars on his fingers between sparse sprigs of dark hair. There was still some weariness in his steps, but his shoulders didn’t hang as low. It eased her some to know Ayesha had been able to help him essentially want to live again. 

The office door was slightly ajar, and he pressed a large palm against the wood, pushing it open. Ayesha looked up from the computer monitor in front of her with a smile that lit up the caramel notes in her eyes. It appeared that helping Joel had also done her a world of good. From what Xara had seen, Theo and Josiah seemed to enjoy his company as well. It was difficult not to ship them, but they’d both been through so much, romance was probably nowhere on their radar.

“I was prepared to have either Joel or Mike carry you in here,” Ayesha said, standing. She’d dressed for the occasion, wearing a deep green blouse and black pencil skirt. Her hair was covered in a pretty, patterned coordinating scarf with only her smoothed edges showing. Large hoops dangled in her ears. 

“How’d you know I’d be nervous?” Xara asked.

“We’re alike. You think things to death.”

“That’s an understatement,” Joel emphasized. “Ayesha thinks things to death and then six feet under.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Come on, guys. Sit.”

A loveseat that had been in front of Ari’s desk was now pushed back against the wall. Ari’s plush desk chair was across from it. 

Mike sat.

Xara clumsily lowered next to him.

“Just text me when you’re done,” Joel said.

Ayesha nodded. “Will do. I can’t wait.”

He left, closing the door behind him.

“Joel and I are having lunch after.”

“Lattimore hasn’t been out since the split up,” Mike pointed out. “If you can do that for him, we’re going to be a walk in the park.”

“But it’s not so much our relationship that’s the problem,” Xara quickly cut in. “I’m not leaving Mike anytime soon, and I hope that’s the same for him?”

Mike took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Of course, Xar.”

Ayesha moved to the chair across from them. “So, what’s the major issue then?”

They both responded at the same time.

“It’s…me.”

“It’s me.”

Ayesha smiled. “Believe it or not, that’s a good sign. Mike, why don’t you go first?”

Mike leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. “It’s this life we’re in. It’s…I’ve never been the kind of man who shied away from conflict. When I was a kid, yeah, but by the time I was like twelve, thirteen, that had been trained out of me. Now, I feel like I go looking for it, and when shit happens, there’s only one way I can see to fix it.”

“Did something happen recently?” 

Xara jumped in. “At Thandie’s party. There was a little girl there, Yaya Sarayev. Her uncle, Mosvar, brought her. Mosvar cornered me in the parking lot and basically propositioned me. Mike overheard it.”

Ayesha reached for a legal pad and scribbled something down. “And Mike, what’d you do?”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

She looked up. “Mike? Everything okay?”

There was still no response from him.

“Mike,” she leaned forward, “I know I’m helping you guys, but you’re still you and I’m still me. You were one of my husband’s closest friends. I know what you guys did, what you guys do. I won’t ever judge you because of it.”

He released his lip and nodded. “The Sarayevs, from what Julien texted me last night, are major figureheads in the Chechen mafia.”

Xara turned to him, eyelids stretched wide and lips slightly parted. That was what he’d read on his phone last night that had caused his mood to boomerang back to distant and withdrawn. 

“Last night, I killed the mafia leader’s son, Argun.”

Each time she gasped when he revealed something major, she still tried not to. When she felt it coming, she tried to hold her breath, stop it from leaving her mouth, but she failed ninety-percent of the time. When it came to his outings it was easy to imagine what he was doing, but it was an entirely different thing to know.

Ayesha didn’t flinch. “Are you worried about retaliation?”

“Not for me.”

“For Xara, then. Why Argun and not Mosvar?”

Mike’s gaze shifted, again off into that space only he could see. “I was going for Mosvar. When I showed up, they were arguing in his room. I hit Argun first and was supposed to hit Mosvar next. The people in their household found out and started shooting. I stayed around just long enough to see Mosvar watch his brother die.”

Ayesha scribbled something else, face still neutral. “How’d you kill him?”

Mike stretched the muscles in his neck. “Slit his throat.”

Xara cursed herself for gasping. Again.

He scraped his fingers through his hair, forward, pulling the strands down over his forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s…” Xara cleared her throat. “Don’t be sorry. It’s an adjustment.”

“Did you hear what she said, Mike?” Ayesha asked.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“What’d you hear?”

“I heard that it’s hard but she’s trying.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Xara chimed in. “I don’t…I’m not judging you, babe.”

They waited.

He didn’t respond.

“What happened after you killed Argun, Mike?” Ayesha coaxed, and Xara took note of the gentleness in her voice to use, herself, at a later time. “After you left but before you went home.”

“I wanted to go back in,” he said. “Kill Mosvar, their father…anyone associated with the piece of shit Sarayev clan. That motherfucker tried to slash my baby’s face. My fucking wife. I’d give my damn life for Xara. That’s my…she’s my rib, ‘Esha. I’m not one of those motherfuckers who takes this husband shit lightly. The things we do? This shit we,” he made a circle in the air with his index finger, “do? Me and the guys, we go out there knowing we can die. We’re shot at, stabbed at. Buildings fall down on and around us. Shit changed when we lost Curtis.”

It was the first glitch Xara noticed in Ayesha’s cool demeanor. 

“When that building started coming down,” Mike went on, “although we always knew we could die, that was the moment shit got real. We’re good at what we do, but we’re not invincible. It’s why we are the way we are. Life is short so we love hard, stay loyal, and we treasure the people who choose to love us.”

Ayesha swallowed. A sheen moved over the whites of her eyes but when she blinked, it disappeared. 

“When people mess with our women, we get unhinged. We go off half-cocked. We unleash the monster inside. Thing is, once it’s out, it takes a while to return to where it came from, so…” He looked at Xara. “That’s why I can’t touch you when I get home, baby. I don’t want to hold you as a monster. I want to hold you as your man.”

Ayesha’s gaze darted to Xara’s. The other woman didn’t say anything, but Xara read everything in that gaze. What Mike was saying, Ayesha had heard before, and not from one of the guys.

All of them. 

“And Xara, what do you hear?” Ayesha asked.

Xara held Mike’s gaze. “I hear that he loves me but, over time, showing that has changed. It’s no longer just about loving me. It’s about protecting me, at all costs. The world he and the guys live in is dangerous and it feels like their ‘work’ follows them home, so when someone threatens us, their families, their ‘home,’ it’s automatically a death sentence.”

“Dead men can’t seek revenge,” Mike added.

She’d heard that before, from Gage. 

And Dez. 

Julien. 

Joel.

Even Giorgio.

Ayesha leaned back. “So now, from both of you, I’d like to know what you want to happen. How you see your relationship progressing. This time, Xara first.”

Xara toyed with her fingers. “It’s not so much what Mike does. It’s what the things he does, do to him. I feel like he’s hurting or suffering inside, and it’s not something I can fix. I just want him to stop hurting.”

“Stop ‘killing’ you mean,” Mike said.

“Hurting,” Xara emphasized. “I know it surprises me when I learn about…things…but it’s not changing how I see you. I don’t see you as a monster. I just don’t want it to destroy you. I want you to see that you’re a good husband, provider, lover, friend, and you’ll be a good father. But, I can’t make you see those things. Only you can do that. Just let me know how to help you get there.”

His voice rose. “You still have a life to live, Xara. A business to run. You can’t spend all your time babysitting me.”

“You’re part of my life, Mike!”

“I don’t feel like a provider. I feel like a fucking weight dragging you down.”

They drew away from each other, having felt it at the same time. 

The root issue.

“I didn’t mean to get all loud with you,” he apologized. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Xara shook her head. “I know. It’s okay.”

“Like a,” he looked up, thinking, “year ago? Or somewhere around there, you told me that a lot of black women feel like they’re Atlas. You’re expected to hold everything up and hold it together, but you also want to be able to rely on someone. Be taken care of. Be loved and treasured and desired. I want to be that for you. Xara, I’m your man. The only thing you should be worrying about is opening your eyes in the morning. I’m supposed to have you for all the rest.”

Xara squeezed the bridge of her nose. He couldn’t see it, and she couldn’t make him see it. As she’d already figured out, his work was changing him. He was seeing himself as less of a human and husband and more of a maniac and monster.

She lowered her voice. “You do. You’re there for me. If you weren’t, one, I wouldn’t be able to confide in you that we feel like Atlas, and two, you wouldn’t remember.”

He wrinkled his brows. “Of course, I remember. I listen to everything you say.”

“Exactly, Michael.”

His lids lowered. A smile tugged at his cheek.

“Mike, I can have a shitty day, come home, and tell you about it without feeling like a burden. You rub my feet, hold me, lick my, uh, chin.”

Ayesha chuckled.

“You do a lot more than you give yourself credit for. You…you killed a man because he tried to slash me across my face. I’m pretty much completely safe with you. When the world gets heavy,” she pretended to remove a globe from her shoulders, “you take it. When it gets heavy for you, I take it. That is all I need. All we need. At least, to get where we both want to be in this relationship.”

When he looked at her again and bit down on his lip, she realized they were going to have to start wrapping up the session. 

“This was excellent,” Ayesha said, and it took them a moment to realize she was speaking. “Perfect. You two are very open and honest with each other, and I believe that has a lot to do with how young you were when you met. Do you feel like you understand each other better, even a little bit?”

Xara dragged her eyes away from Mike’s. “Honestly? Yes. I thought I already did, but I feel even closer to Mike than I did before.”

“And you, Mike?”

His gaze moved more slowly over to Ayesha. “I feel like I’m still doing a good job as a husband in my wife’s eyes, and that’s what I needed to hear.”

“Awesome.” Ayesha set aside her legal pad. “I’d like to see you guys again, but not here. In Hawaii. My recommendation—your homework, if you will—is that you two take a much-needed vacation. Kill two birds with one stone by going to paradise and seeing me on the side.”

Xara nodded, discreetly squeezing her thighs together. “We can do that.”

Ayesha grabbed her phone and sent a quick text. Under a minute later, like he’d been waiting just down the hall, Joel poked his head in.

“You rang, m’lady?”

Ayesha, smiling, shook her head. “We’re done. Let me grab my purse, and we can head out.”

“Isn’t she amazing?” Joel asked Mike and Xara, but he didn’t look at them. “Smart, understanding, big-hearted. Just all-around amazing.”

Xara nodded. “More than that.”

She walked over to Ayesha and hugged her, long and tight. Every last one of them, she loved. From Ayesha to Ari. And it was a real, deep kind of love as if they’d grown up together with caring and loving parents who’d taught them the value of sisterhood.

“The ladies are having champagne later,” Ayesha said. “I’ll see you then, Xar?”

Mike made an X over his chest. “I promise to have her off her back before then.”

Xara gently swatted his arm.

They left, walking out slowly until they hit the middle of the hallway. Then, Mike was on Xara’s heels as they hurried back to their guest suite. She barely crossed the threshold before he grabbed her, picked her up, carried her over to the bed, and lay her on the mattress. 

“You know the drill.” He licked his lips. “Spread ‘em, girl.”

They didn’t know the Asian man’s name or anything about him other than the fact that he appeared to be good friends with the man called Beast, and he had a wife that would make for an excellent fuck. Ivan knew where the Beast lived but had declined every suggestion Mosvar had made about going there. He’d even threatened to tell Ivan’s wife about the family here in America, which would have more than likely resulted in his wife’s father cutting off his cock, but Ivan had rather take his chances with Svetlana’s father than face the Beast alone.

Elias The Wicked is with the editor, so that means I’ll have a release date soon. It’s part of the Myths, Legends, and Monsters Series, but the series is an anthology series which means there’ll be new characters each time–each book is a standalone.

I can honestly say I’m in love with Kerah’s personality. My goal in The Gatekeeper was to create an immersive world-building experience. My goal in Elias The Wicked is to make you fall in love. Like…all the f*cking way in love.

I don’t think I’ll ever not be nervous before a big release. I don’t have butterflies in my stomach. These is cicadas.

This was another fruit, something that had an explosive sweetness to it, like eating candy but without the table sugar taste. Whatever it was, he’d gotten it ripe and in season. As he pulled his finger from my mouth, another dribble of juice trickled down my chin which he lapped up as well.

“What’s that one?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.” I licked my lips. “Tastes like this passionfruit juice I used to drink growing up.”

“It is passionfruit.” 

I parted my lips. 

He laughed. “You must really like this.”

“I’m waiting for my favorite fruit.”

“And that is?”

“You’ll know when you get to it.”

Mature (18+) Audiences. Contains bad words and sex-y scenarios.

Xara didn’t lift her head, not when the door opened and Mike’s familiar footfalls landed on the wooden floors of their guest suite at Julien and Ari’s. She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t see him walk to the bathroom, and she lay awake with her face to the ceiling as she listened to the shower spray for much longer than usual.

They’d taken a bloody shower together once before at a hotel in Texas. The crimson fluid mixing with the warm water, lightening as it maneuvered down the drain, still came to her in her dreams from time to time. It was why she could see it now, Mike letting his head hang, dark hair falling in front of his face, and blood spattering the shower floor. Between the six men, she wondered how much blood these pipes had seen, both here and at their own houses.

According to Ari, Julien was showing signs of major PTSD both from missions and nearly having lost their daughter. Tayler said Gage often got caught up in the telling “thousand-yard stare,” sometimes in the middle of a conversation. After missions, Dez didn’t speak for over a week, going almost completely nonverbal. Ayesha had only just begun to stabilize Joel, who’d relied a lot on his relationship to center him when he returned home, so it crushed him when it was no longer something he could turn to.

Giorgio…was Giorgio.

Mike fought a war within himself each day. The moments where he was her happy Mike, her smiling and playful and lovable Mike were being eclipsed by the one who took hour-long showers, and the one who, after those showers, climbed into bed and made no move to touch her. She would have to go to him, and he would flinch with the first contact. It would take a few moments for him to relax and for his muscles to calm long enough for her to be allowed to hold him.

This career was taking its toll.

That toll was now accelerated because they had people they loved who could die because of it.

The shower turned off. She rolled onto her side, making sure to continue to avoid looking at him as he emerged from the bathroom. He padded naked to the dresser, pulled out a pair of boxers, slipped them on, and climbed into bed.

An ocean lay between them.

“Mike.” She pretended to yawn. “I’m so glad you’re back, baby.”

He turned his head to look at her. “You weren’t sleeping.”

In her head it was automatic, counting down how long it had been since he slipped into bed. Timing when it should be okay to reach out to him. His body tipped the edge of the mattress and, from the outside looking in, it was like they were having an argument. For her, it was like he was afraid even accidentally brushing her skin would dirty her somehow.

“Are you okay, babe?” she asked.

He searched her face, blinking slowly. “I don’t know anymore.”

“You didn’t have to—“

“I had no other choice.”

She begged to differ. He’d had the choice to leave the situation alone, but there was something in his tone. It was like he knew, logically, he did have that choice, but his mind had left him no other options. The solution to every affront, every infringement, every time he felt like a boundary had been crossed too close to home, was death.

Was it naive of her to think it wouldn’t have come to this?

Definitely.

She’d considered what this lifestyle could do to his physical, mental, and emotional state, but she’d stopped at could, too afraid to cross over into would.

“I don’t know how they do it,” he said. “The kids, the birthday parties, the birthday cake. Normal shit. What do I say if my kid asks me to come to career day at school? Do I show up to their first-grade class like, ‘Hi, I’m Mike, Jia’s dad, and I’m a killer’?”

She smiled. “Jia? You’ve thought about names?”

“I, uh,” he looked away, “think about some. From time to time. I figured Jia’s a name that could be both American and Chinese.”

She hadn’t put much thought into naming their future children, primarily because it would only worsen the disappointment with each negative pregnancy test she took. She wasn’t ready to put a name to a face she might never see.

“Have you ever asked the guys how they do it?” she prodded.

Let their wives tell it, the guys were barely holding on.

“We don’t really talk about it,” he said. “There are times where it’s obvious we’re just over all this shit, but…that’s about it.”

She dared tracing the lines in his palm with her index finger. He flinched, but he didn’t pull away, so she crossed the seas that parted them.

He wrapped her up in his arms, and she felt like a helium balloon he’d just learned letting go could cause it to float away.

“I love you, Xar, but I don’t know if I…” He sighed. “I know I keep going back and forth with this, and I want a family, I just—“

“Don’t want this and a family,” she finished. “I understand.”

He pressed his forehead into her hair. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want our family. It means I’m finding a way out of this. We are. Our contracted period’s been up for a while and we’re supposed to be privatized, but it doesn’t feel like it. If I have to choose between you and this life, I’m choosing you every single time, Xara.”

He tilted her head up for their eyes to connect and then let his fingers linger, dragging his thumb along the scar that would have been made had Mosvar’s man carried out his task. Tayler had taken a look at her palm, and she’d only needed ointment, bandaging, and ice to help with the swelling.

“What did you do tonight, Mike?” She knew he wouldn’t tell her, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

He kept his gaze trained on the path his thumb drew. “Why go for your face?”

“To make it personal.” Mosvar had felt emasculated after she rebuffed him, so scarring her had been his choice of revenge. “If it had happened, every time I looked in the mirror and saw the scar, I’d think of him. He wanted a legacy, I guess.”

Mike’s pupils shrunk so small, his irises looked like smooth onyx.

Something bright caught her gaze, and she made the mistake of looking at it. She made the mistake of looking away from him, even when it looked like he wasn’t looking at her, to see what it was that had popped into her line of sight.

There, just behind the arc of the tip of his ear, was a spot of red.

The gasp was stolen from between her lips before she had a chance to tamp it down.

“What?” He seemed to find her again, gaze coming back into focus. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He pushed up out of the bed, walked over to a large mirror on the wall, and tilted his head to get a better view of his ear. When he saw the spot, he drew his finger over it, looked down at the digit, and froze.

“Mike, it’s okay.”

His head fell, damp strands tumbling in clumps. “It’s not okay.”

“Really, it’s f—”

“It’s not fucking okay, Xara.”

Instinctively, she looked at the art on the walls, expecting to see them resettling after shaking from the level of anger and frustration in his voice.

He started pacing, fists clenching. “Shit. Shit…shit…shit.”

“Mike?” She slipped off the side of the bed and stood, but she didn’t move toward him. Not yet. “Mike, talk to me.”

He stopped pacing, but his fingers didn’t stop flexing. His chest pushed out too hard, too high. Even the powerful muscles in his thighs were tensed, creating deep paths in his golden skin. She didn’t know what was happening, but the wild look in his eyes made her stomach turn. It was like, all of a sudden, he had no idea where he was.

“I can’t forgive myself, Xara.” He closed his eyes, shook his head. “I tore you away from your family.”

“You saved me,” she corrected. “You helped me walk away. Things are better now.”

None of it penetrated.

“I married you under false pretenses. I nearly got you killed. What fucking audacity do I have to ask you to carry my child?”

She walked to the side of the bed closest to him.

“So, I was reading this book,” he said. “It was about all the things women go through when they’re pregnant. I don’t…I don’t really know much about pregnancy, so I got a book. Some books. I wanted to make sure that I could somewhat understand what you’d go through and know what I found? Women’s bodies change, Xara. Their brains can change, even their shoe size. Cesarians can be necessary and still fucking dangerous. They cut your shit to make more space for the baby to come out vaginally. And black women, Xar.” He looked up, but he still wasn’t looking at her. “Black mothers die. I’m asking you to risk dying to bring my child into this world, and what the fuck do I give you in return?”

He swatted at his ear, where the small drop of blood had been, like a bug had landed there.

She took a few steps closer to him, across the room. “I want a baby too, Mike,” she reminded him. “And yeah, there are a lot of risks involved, but there’s a big reward. Carrying a baby isn’t for everybody, and there are other ways to be a mother, but I want to have a child. With you. I’m in love with you, and I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen years old.”

His eyes misted over. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“How could you…” He swallowed. “Tell me what I’ve done to deserve all the love and forgiveness and…and, shit, grace you’ve given and shown me over the years.”

She walked until she reached him, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed his collarbone before pressing her cheek against it. “It’s simple, handsome,” she said. “You loved me even when I didn’t think there was anything about me worth loving.”

He kissed her forehead. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I know.”

A laugh caused his stomach to clench, and he wrapped her up for the second time that night, holding her close.

“You love a killer, Xara.”

“I know, but so do Tayler, Larke, Mo, and Ari. Plus, the other guys may not be taking this quite as well as you assume. You’re all only human. Most of you, anyhow.”

He lifted his head, hooked his finger beneath her chin, and brushed his lips over hers.

“Maybe,” she laced their fingers together, “we should take a vacation. Stop planning for this pregnancy to happen and just…let it. Easing the tension of all this stress could be helpful.”

“Before we do that, you think we should take Ayesha up on her offer?”

After spending years running a retail business, Ayesha had returned to using her Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology, specializing in grief and trauma. She’d extended an invitation to have them sit with her after they’d shared how the stress of everything was affecting their relationship. Considering what Ayesha had gone through with losing Curtis to this very same clandestine “lifestyle,” no one else would understand better.

“We can do that,” she said.

His private phone on the nightstand chirped. He released her, reluctantly, and walked over to check it. Whatever he read on the screen made his expression change, eyebrows lowering and jaw going hard.

“Is that Julien?” Xara asked.

He blacked out the screen and set the phone down. “Let’s talk about it later. We need to get some sleep.”

They climbed back into bed.

She lay on her side, studying his profile.

He avoided eye contact, full attention on the ceiling, brows still drawn.

An ocean lay between them.

I wanted to go back in,” he said. “Kill Mosvar, their father…anyone associated with the piece of shit Sarayev clan. That motherfucker tried to slash my baby’s face. My fucking wife. I’d give my damn life for Xara. That’s my…she’s my rib, ‘Esha. I’m not one of those motherfuckers who takes this husband shit lightly.

Thank you for all your support on this series!

Mature (18+) Audiences. Contains bad words and sex-y scenarios.

Mosvar leaned back, licked his lips, and returned, head first, into the pussy splayed before him like a dinner platter. Rejection felt, for lack of a better term, odd. He was rich, good-looking, and well-connected, so it never occurred to him a woman could say no. 

It was possible that rejection was what had him tongue and face deep in this particular pussy. 

This girl reminded him of the one from today with the dragon tattoo and piercings. Both this girl and her friend, who was currently on her knees with his cock down her throat, had the same complexion as the woman from earlier. It reminded him of that fancy drink his brother ordered every morning from the chef downstairs, a mocha frappe or something and the other. He didn’t think they tasted as sweet or had as good a handle on his cock as that woman would, but they would do for now.

The girl whose clit he was currently sucking writhed. Her fingers grated his scalp and she pulled him closer, rocking her hips into his mouth. Her stomach indented nearly to her ribs with each passionate exhale. He loved women. They were soft, lithe, beautiful, and their faces when they came was enough to make him want to release his load before he was ready. 

But there was no fun in that.

“Oh…oh, baby.” She gasped. Her legs twitched. “Oh, yes. Please don’t stop.”

He dragged his tongue over her clit, sucked, and went back to long strokes with the tip in a firm point. His middle and ring finger stroked her from the inside. 

“Mosvar!” The door burst in. “Jesus Christ, you piece of shit. Get some clothes on.”

He didn’t turn around to face his brother, not just yet. Not before—

The woman’s climactic cry broke through some of the tension now slowly gathering in the air. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to let the rest of the scene play out the way he’d hoped, he came down the friend’s throat, and she swallowed like the good girl he was paying her to be.

Something hit him in the back. 

It felt like a piece of clothing.

“I said put some damn clothes on,” his brother growled, impatient. “I’m not here to see your cock.”

He pulled himself away from the first woman’s quivering pussy and tapped his cock against the friend’s open mouth to make sure she finished every last drop. When he was finished, he had them leave and slipped into the boxer briefs his brother had tossed at him.

“And how can I help you?” he asked, leaning against the bed, arms folded.

Argun’s brows narrowed, his lips pinched in a tight line. “What happened today?”

“You have to be more specific, brother.”

“Don’t fuck around with me, Mos.” 

“I took Yaya to the party, like you asked,” Mosvar explained, “and then I came home.”

Argun walked to the door, reached just outside into the corridor, and dragged in Khassan, one of the guards who’d escorted Yaya to the party. He knew the man would run back and tell Argun what he’d ordered him to do. All of them, it was like they worshipped Argun’s cock more than his own wife. 

Both he and Argun were the last remaining sons of the Sarayev tiep, one of the oldest clans of their republic. His grandfather had worked next to mafiya figureheads like Suleimanov and Noukhayev, their names carrying the same weight. More, in some areas. Violence, crime…they were in his blood just as much as they were in Argun’s. Yet, he didn’t receive the same respect or acknowledgment. Instead, they treated him like a fucking babysitter for their overweight, seven-year-old brat.

“Khassan, tell him what you told me,” Argun ordered.

Khassan nodded. “Sir, I told him about what you had me do. To the woman.”

Mosvar let his attention slip back to his older brother. “What is with all of this showmanship? Tell me what you’re here to tell me.”

Argun snapped his fingers, and Khassan left the room. 

Mosvar rolled his eyes.

“We don’t dabble in civilian shit,” Argun said. “A woman turns you down so you want her face scarred? Are you really my twenty-eight-year-old brother or a sixteen-year-old cunt? Khassan and the rest of my men didn’t take an oath to fulfill your petulant, dirty deeds.”

Mosvar shrugged. “Our men.”

“You’re too childish to command an army, Mos. These are my men. Mine and Father’s.”

He’d gotten the hand at pretending, over the years, that neither Argun nor his father’s shallow views of him mattered, but that wasn’t exactly the case. He’d been trying to please them, show them he deserved the Sarayev surname, since he was a little boy. Whenever it seemed like he was getting one step closer, they moved the line.

“The woman kicked Khassan in the ball sack.” He pushed up off the bed, standing to his full height, eye to eye with his brother. “That’s the end of the story. Unless you’d like to hear how I came back here to get my fill of American pussy.”

Argun smirked. “To satisfy what this woman couldn’t give you, no doubt. Like I said, you are a fucking child.”

“Don’t call me a child!”

“Are you going to have a tantrum? Did you, at least, get this woman’s name?”

He shook his head. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d always wanted a black girl like that. She looked like she could dance in a music video, star in a porno. She wouldn’t be the first black girl he’d ever fucked, but she was the one he wanted. The one he felt like he’d been looking forward to ever since he was just another horny teenager. He could see her sweet brown ass swallowing his pale cock, him squirting his semen all over her exotic face. 

He cleared his throat. “I couldn’t make out her name. It didn’t sound like a traditional American one.”

“Did she,” Argun ran his fingers through his hair, the same blond as his but cut above his ears, “have blond hair?”

“She was a black, brother.”

“There are some blacks with blond hair, Mos.”

“Like Beyonce?” He sucked air through his teeth. “That’s not real.”

“Answer the question.”

“No.”

The lines eased from his brother’s face. His shoulders relaxed some. 

“At the very least, we should be able to sleep tonight,” Argun said. “Then again, I’m not so sure I shouldn’t kill you myself. My Yaya told me she didn’t have a good time.”

“Your Yaya is a brat,” Mosvar spat. “And I’m not a fucking babysitter.”

“You need duty and discipline. Father was the one who suggested I send you along with her. ‘It’s the one thing he can’t fuck up,’ he’d said, but now, I’m not convinced.”

“Yaya didn’t have a good time because she expected it to be her party.” He’d almost given her a thrashing in the car for punching him in the face. Spoiled little shit. “She wanted the little girl’s presents.”

“And you didn’t buy her presents on the way back here?”

Mosvar walked to his dresser on the other side of the large bedroom suite and pulled out a shirt. He was done with this conversation, this interrogation like he was some kind of invalid. The woman was lucky Khassan was such a pussy and he hadn’t taken the knife to her face himself. She wouldn’t be walking away with a scarred palm, if the flesh wound Khassan had delivered even scarred at all. She’d be walking away with a lifelong reminder of him. An almost guarantee that she would no longer be seen as universally beautiful in anyone’s eyes, man, woman, or beast. 

“Answer me, Mos.”

He slipped on the shirt and grabbed for a pair of jeans. Argun didn’t leave, and he didn’t address his brother. 

There was nothing more he had to say.

He fastened the button on his jeans, pulled up the zipper, and lifted his head just in time to see something flash across the window.

“What was that?” He ran to the large pane and drew the curtain fully aside. 

“What was what?” Argun asked.

“I saw something.” 

Now, the only thing that stared back at him through the window was the lights of the city. It was a moonless night. Back home, moonless nights made for good sleep. Here, in America, it was one shit-fest after another. 

One day, he would return home, and it would be after his father saw what he was capable of. He could run their part of the organization back in Grozny, with one arm if need be. He didn’t have to be here, breathing this corrupted air. He had to admit, however, that the women were very tasty in this country.

“Did you see it? Argun?” He turned to his brother. “Ar—”

Blood spilled between the fingers his brother had plastered to a slit in his neck. Argun fell to his knees, sputtering.

“Argun.” He ran over to his brother. “Khassan? Khassan!”

Khassan didn’t come. 

Something moved in the corner of his eyes. When he turned, there was still nothing. Someone was in the room. He could feel it, but feeling it wasn’t going to help him see it.

The second-floor maid came running. “You called, si…oh my God!”

He started to tell her to call an ambulance. He started to tell her to find something he could press against his brother’s neck to stint the bleeding and possibly save his life.

But, he didn’t.

“I’ll go get help, sir.” 

The maid scurried off, but no one she could find now would be able to help. 

Argun was on his way out. 

He was on his way in.

Mosvar knelt over his brother, looked him in eyes. “Did you see your end coming like this, Argun?”

Argun’s eyes widened, focus shifting. Mosvar moved at the last moment, missing a blade to the neck so narrowly, the metal edge sliced a hole in his designer T-shirt. 

Finally, he came face to face with the man he was going to kill but who he also wanted to thank for doing the work he’d delayed doing for so long himself. He couldn’t see the man’s face; all but his eyes were covered by a mask. He was dressed in black from head to toe, and the darker stains from where Argun’s blood had scattered stood out, shiny. Almost jewel-like. 

Of course. 

It was just like his brother to have pretty blood.

Wait.

All he saw were the man’s eyes, but they were all he needed to see. 

It can’t be.

The man wiped Argun’s blood from his blade and charged forward. Just as he was going to strike, bullets pierced the walls. An army of their men stormed into the room in camouflage gear, the green, red, and white of their nation’s flag patched on their shoulders. 

When the bullets stopped, Mosvar looked up. Nearly everything in the room was destroyed, and there were holes in the windows, but there was no one. The window he’d been looking through was open, the breeze from outside tossing the curtains high. 

Their father pushed through the soldiers, entering the room as quickly as his elderly body could carry him. 

“Argun!” He knelt and cradled Argun’s head. “Oh, my son! My boy!”

Mosvar crawled over to them. Argun’s eyes were blank with the stare of impending death, but his mouth still moved. 

“Zver’…Zver’…”

Ramszyn Sarayev knelt close. “What are you saying to me, my boy?”

“Mos…Mosvar…Zver’.”

The word stretched with Argun’s last breath, and the muscles in his neck released. 

His brother was dead.

“He was saying your name and the word beast.” Ramszyn set accusatory eyes on Mosvar. “What happened in here?”

Mosvar looked back toward the window. The assortment of men from the party today, he’d recognized one of them. He was a man known in Russia as Zver’ and in Germany as Biest, but that wasn’t who’d come through the window. That wasn’t who’d killed his brother and almost ended his life. However, to be sitting so cavalierly with a man like that, one had to be nearly as deadly himself.

“He thinks we were attacked by the man they call beast,” Mosvar explained.

Ramszyn’s eyes grew big. 

“But I don’t think that’s who did this.” Mosvar walked to the window, shut it, and stared out into the blackness of the night. “The beast didn’t do this. Whoever did this, they moved like a ghost. A demon. Father, whoever killed Argun wasn’t a man. He was a shadow.”

In her head it was automatic, counting down how long it had been since he slipped into bed. Timing when it should be okay to reach out to him. His body tipped the edge of the mattress and, from the outside looking in, it was like they were having an argument. For her, it was like he was afraid even accidentally brushing her skin would dirty her somehow.

“Are you okay, babe?”

He searched her face, blinking slowly. “I don’t know anymore.”

“You didn’t have to—“

“I had no other choice.”

Mature (18+) Audiences. Contains bad words and sex-y scenarios.

Mike’s mouth moved as he sang, “Happy Birthday” to Thandie, but he wasn’t looking at the three-tiered cake being placed in front of the birthday girl. His attention was on the man who’d approached Xara in the parking lot. He’d learned the man’s name was Mosvar, which one Yaya Sarayev’s bodyguards had called him as they’d walked over to the massive tent where barbecued chicken, burgers, and hot dogs were served for lunch. The girl’s name, he’d swiped from the guest list.

He wasn’t able to glean much more information. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d thought to bring listening or recording equipment with him. What kinds of problems did one expect to run into at a seven-year old’s birthday party?

Applause thundered, snapping him back to focus. Thandie smiled a wide, gap-toothed grin at her guests, her party hat slightly crooked on top of her kinky, blond curls. 

Xara’s warmth enveloped him from behind. “I’m gonna help pass out slices of cake,” she whispered, near his ear. 

With all the baby-trying they’d been doing, even thinking of the first letter of her name sometimes made his dick hard. “Keep whispering all sweet in my ear and see what happens to you,” he threatened.

She fingered a few damp strands of his hair from his time in the dunk tank. Josiah’s aim with his hand was as good as his father’s had been with an M40 rifle.

She walked off, and he turned his attention back to Mosvar whose eyes followed Xara around like they were glued to her ass. 

It didn’t bother him that the man found her attractive. She was attractive, she had an amazing body, and there were times he wondered what the hell she’d seen in him when they’d first met in high school. His issue was the plan of action the man had taken. It was fine to admire from a distance. It was another thing entirely to essentially be eye-fucking his wife like there was some expectation for the real thing to happen later.

“Who is he?” Dez asked, Larke leaned against him as sleepy as their yawning daughter.

Mike shook his head. “Don’t know.”

Giorgio’s voice grated out a sentence in Russian. One of the bodyguards looked back. When his gaze met Giorgio’s, he immediately turned away. 

“So, they’re Russian?” Mike asked.

“Chechnya,” Giorgio said, the word alone an explanation. It was amazing he could still look so deadly while Aleksi sat on his lap, drooling and slapping his palms on the tabletop. They’d all expected getting married and having a child to humanize him, and it had. Somewhat. 

From time to time, he smiled. 

He’d shown up to the birthday part with less than a dozen blades. 

No one had died yet.

That was definitely progress.

“Has he said anything to anyone else?” Mike asked the table.

All shook their heads. 

Mo spoke up. “Actually, he came up to me and—“

Giorgio moved to stand, at the same time handing Aleksi over to Mo.

“Gio, stay here with me,” Mo pleaded. “Sit. Please. Hold your son. You’re not going to leave carnage at my niece’s party. Gage? Help.”

Gage smiled. “I’m no longer Pozza’s handler, Mo. That’s your job now, love.”

Tayler chuckled and shook her head, face darkening with a blush when he sent her a sly wink.

Mike watched Xara bend over to place a slice of cake in front of a child and ask them what they wanted to drink. Bending stretched her jeans tight over her already round ass, and Mosvar shifted in his seat. Grabbed his dick. 

Mike felt the vein in his neck pop.

That’s strike two, motherfucker.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Xara glanced back his way and pulled out her phone. His buzzed in his pocket with a text.

Xara: Mike, he’s not worth it.

Mike: Ok.

Xara: Mike, I’m serious.

Mike: Me too.

She finished passing out drinks and cake and came back to the table. The minute she sat, he grabbed the back of her head and latched her lips onto his. He kept the kiss chaste, considering their company, but made sure it was enough to demonstrate who she belonged to. Fuck decorum. This was his wife, and he was trying to put a baby inside this woman. He was feeling territorial. 

And this man had Put. His. Hands. On. Her.

She leaned back, licking those full, ripe lips. “Boy, when I get you alone…”

“You’ll what?” he pressed.

She peered behind him at the table.

“Don’t worry about them. Worry about me and us and—”

“Mosvar Sarayev?” she finished. “You’re worried about him.”

“You know him?”

“Not entirely.” She released a sigh. “After the parking lot incident, I asked Ari and Julien who he was. That little girl he’s sitting with? Yaya? He’s her uncle. Their family’s Chechen, and apparently, they’re loaded. Old money or something. He’s not a threat, just young, rich, and horny.”

Her words came out of her mouth wrapped in confidence, but not once did she look Mosvar’s way. If she couldn’t even look at the side of the man’s face, their encounter had gotten to her more than she was admitting. 

“Okay, Xar.” He hoped his tone sounded more apologetic than placating. Because he was placating.

“Promise me you won’t do anything crazy,” she begged. “I don’t know who their family is, but I heard they’re dangerous.”

Grunts of disapproval went around the table. Dez laughed out loud, chuckling deep. 

“Dangerous,” Mike echoed, incredulous. “I’ll ‘make sure’ to stay away.”

She swatted his shoulder. “Asshole. All of you,” she lasered her gaze at the rest of his teammates, his brothers, his best friends and now hers, “assholes. Every last one.”

They nodded.

Mike shrugged.

After cake, Ari and Julien ushered Thandie to the middle of the tent to open the mountain of presents that had been brought by guests. Mike hoped they didn’t plan to open them all; it would take all day to get through the first pile.

“We’re not opening everything right now,” Julien announced via mic. “We don’t want to be here all day.”

Thandie looked up at him.

“Open your first present,” Ari urged.

Thandie reached for a box gift-wrapped in purple paper with pink, purple, and gray polka-dotted ribbon. She barely had a chance to tear the first sheaf from the gift before an annoyed cry rose in the air. All attention turned to the table where the little Sarayev girl sat, her face red and wet with tears.

Mosvar whispered something in their native tongue that made her cry out even louder, legs kicking and arms flailing. 

“Little brat want present,” Giorgio translated. “But, is not birthday, so little brat have to wait.”

Thandie studied her schoolmate’s distress and looked up at her mother. Mike noticed Ari and Xara’s eyes connect across the way. Thandie motioned for her mother to bend and whispered something in Ari’s ear. Ari shook her head.

“That little girl is on the wrong path,” Xara said. “Earlier, Thandie told me Yaya Sarayev called her the n-word.”

Choruses of “what the fuck” and “are you serious” wafted around the table. The kids who were at the table were too young to understand, and Theo and Josiah were with Ayesha and Joel helping the caterers. It gave Theo something to do considering it was sometimes difficult for him to sit with large groups, and Ayesha and Joel had grown closer after she started helping him cope with his unexpected bachelorhood.

Giorgio muttered something in Russian. 

Mo pretended to bite his bicep. “Gio. God, we’ve gotta talk about discipline, babe. Soon. That…that’s not discipline.”

“I do not like brat, Bez,” he argued. 

“And if Aleksi turns out to be a brat?”

“I will leave him in Russian forest.”

Laughing, she lowered her forehead to his shoulder.

Yaya continued to wail. 

Eventually, embarrassment paled the bodyguards’ faces. This was an instance where she wanted something she couldn’t get, and it was obvious to Mike that “no” was a word the little girl hadn’t heard quite frequently enough. 

Mosvar lifted Yaya into his arms like a newborn and carried her out of the tent, her fists pounding his face and neck as the bodyguards followed.

Thandie resumed her gift opening.

After one section of a pile of the gifts was opened, activities resumed. 

A darkening sky and sleepy, foot-dragging children signaled the end of the party. Ari and Julien had hired a clean-up crew, so the only thing they had to do was ensure all the kids found their parents and vice versa, and everyone left with the same amount of fingers, eyeballs, and teeth they’d come with.

“Mike, honey?” Ari walked over to Mike with Ty, asleep, in her arms. “You mind holding Ty while we finish up?”

He took the snoozing toddler and was hit by an unexpected rush of emotion. One day, he’d be holding his own son or daughter like this. They’d feel warm and smell like Ty did of baby lotion and mashed bananas. There’d be no handing them back to their parents at the end of the evening. He’d take them home, tuck them in, and watch over them while they dreamed. 

“No problem, Ari.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll go find Xara so we can get some practice in.”

She laughed. “Whatever. You guys are naturals. You’ll be great parents.”

“You think so?”

“Mike,” she smoothed Ty’s hair, “I know so. Thank you.”

She jogged off.

He headed toward the event’s exit in search of Xara and found her leaned against the car they’d come in, his Audi R8 coupe. That was another thing that would change. There was no way he was putting a car seat in a V10 coupe. He wasn’t going to be shopping for minivans or anything like that—ever—but Julien and Ari had a nice Rover. He could get down with a Rover.

Smiling, he approached her. “Hey, Xar.”

She didn’t look up, and he heard her sniffle.

“Xar, what’s wrong?”

She lifted her head. He didn’t look at her, not yet. The red stain on the car’s paint from where her hand had been sitting caught his attention first. 

When he finally did look at her, he noticed she had a ball of napkins pressed against her palm, the tissues spotted and soaked in red.

“Xara, what the fuck happened?”

“Sarayev’s men,” she said. “Because I turned him down earlier, I think he was still salty and sent one of the men after me. He tried to slash my face.” She tilted her chin upward, showing the man’s intended target. “I put my hand up at the last minute, punched him in the eye, and crushed his balls with my fist. He stumbled off.”

Mike looked to the darkness, seeing the man’s form in his mind’s eye. “Okay, Xar.”

She opened her mouth to respond, maybe even foolishly try to convince him he shouldn’t do what he was going to do anyhow, but she closed it without a word. They both knew, at this point, any argument was futile. What if she hadn’t raised her hand? What if she had gotten slashed in the face? In the eye?

“It’s not deep.” She held up the bloodied hand. “I don’t think I’ll need surgery or anything.”

Mike blinked, slowly, her face and his mind’s construct of the man’s form converging until it was just her again. 

“How are you getting back to Julien’s?” he questioned.

Ty yawned, stretched, and resettled. 

“I’ll ride with somebody,” she said, resolute. 

“Who? Tell me.”

“I’ll see if Dez and Larke can take me.”

He nodded. “Good. Don’t wait up.”

“Don’t be too late.”

“Homicide has no timeframe.”

She frowned. He frowned right back. What the fuck did she think would happen here? She’d asked him to behave because of the earlier incident, but that was no longer an option. The horny, arrogant motherfucker had sent somebody to slash her face. Just like his bratty ass niece, he wasn’t used hearing the word no and had decided to retaliate on some mafioso type of shit. 

Little did they know, he was part of his own mafia, but he wouldn’t need the rest of the team tonight, and he wasn’t looking to slash faces. 

“Come here.” He extended his free arm. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Xar. I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I would do with myself if something had happened to you.”

She stepped into his embrace. “You look good with a baby.”

He kissed the side of her head. “I even feel like I know what I’m doing.”

She pressed her cheek into his shoulder. “Be safe, Mike.”

He fastened the button on his jeans, pulled up the zipper, and lifted his head just in time to see something flash across the window.

“What was that?” He ran to the large pane and drew the curtain fully aside.

“What was what?” Argun asked.

“I saw something.”

Now, the only thing that stared back at him through the window was the lights of the city.

Mature (18+) Audiences. Contains bad words and sex-y scenarios.

It looked more like a huge carnival that a community had put together than a little girl’s seventh birthday party. There was a ticket booth at the front manned by a teenage girl from Ari and Julien’s neighborhood, and the girl had dressed the part, wearing a top hat, black and white pinstripes, and pigtails in her curly mop of hair. There was a Merri-go-round, a Ferris wheel, a mini roller coaster, food vendors, and a lot of children.

A crapload of children.

Xara narrowly avoided a collision with two boys soaking each other with water guns. She and Mike had arrived a few minutes ago and had been standing in line, but Julien spotted them and let them know they could walk right in since they weren’t guests. It was why they didn’t get tickets.

Tickets were for guests, not family.

“You think we’ll do something like this when our kid turns seven?” Mike asked, looking around the expanse of the park Julien and Ari had “rented out.”

Xara shook her head. “Umm…no. I don’t have the patience to organize something this big.”

“We could afford it.”

“It’s not the money, Mike.” She squeezed where their hands were joined. “Even if we hired somebody to put it together, we’d still have to host. By the end of the night, I’m fighting somebody.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek.

As far as she knew—if the pregnancy test she’d taken this morning was any indication—they were still not on the path to becoming parents, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. They constantly tried to the point where they had to relegate lovemaking to a bed instead of all the various on wall, against trees, and other standing up positions that were detrimental for conception. It had been three months of missionary and Mike claiming, “ass up and face down is essentially the same thing as missionary.”

In the beginning, for a nanosecond, she’d worried that them not being able to conceive would be a deal-breaker for him and their relationship. Sydney and Joel’s relationship had ended because they didn’t agree on whether they wanted to be parents. Sydney didn’t want children, and Joel wanted nothing more than to be a father.

Mike had quickly reassured her that wasn’t the case for them. He loved her, and he would love her until he was old, gray, shuffling, and grumpy, with or without children. And, if natural conception wasn’t an option, there was IVF, adoption, surrogacy…a host of alternatives. As long as they were on the same page about wanting to be parents, they would be fine.

She stopped, turned to him, and planted a kiss on his mouth.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he licked his lips, “but what was that for?”

Xara shrugged one shoulder, squinting against the sun streaming into her eyes. “No reason. I just love you.”

“I love you too, Xar.”

“Hey, Mike! Xara!” Mo, Giorgio’s wife, waved at them from a few feet away. “You’re just in time. Mike, we need somebody for the dunk tank. Xara, some of the girls want to put on a fashion show in the ‘Chic Tent,’ and yes, they came up with their names themselves.”

“I don’t know about—”

“See you later, babe.” Xara tugged her hand away from Mike’s. “I love you.”

He opened his arms, palms facing toward her. “Really, Xar?”

“They said the buzz word. Fashion. The children need me.”

She hurried off. When she reached Mo, she gave her a long hug, and they disappeared inside a gold, pink, and white tent with scalloped edges and balloons attached to poles along its sides.

Spending time with small children wanting to fashion ballet tutus, dresses, tuxedos, and Thandie’s “velociraptor-princess” costume left Xara with a pit in the middle of her stomach. More specifically, her uterus. The wives of the rest of the team—Mo, Ari, Larke, Tayler, Ayesha—had pitched in to help out. Ayesha’s boys, Theo and Josiah, were the only children old enough to participate, but they’d wanted to steer clear of tutus. Xara realized those were the two boys she’d nearly run into earlier.

Before today, she’d met everyone except Ayesha, who lived in Hawaii. Over the past year, she’d spent more than enough time getting to know the other women and feeling like she was part of the family. Part of something big. Even Ant and Val had taken to the group, but Ant wanted no part of joining the team. According to him, he was “more than satisfied” with his stable, non-high-flying job at the Fire-Rescue in Dallas.

“Excuse me, Auntie Xara?”

Xara looked down into Thandie’s large brown eyes. “ Yes, baby?”

“Can I say a bad word?”

Xara’s face grew hot. “Um, I don’t think your mother would approve of that.”

“I know. That’s why I asked you.”

She knelt to the girl’s eye level. “Why do you want to say a bad word, Thandie?”

Thandie pointed across the chaos of the Chic Tent to a little girl with wispy, light blond strands. A pink headband with a large bow separated the girl’s bangs from the rest of her hair, the locks spilling down nearly to her tailbone. From what she recalled, the little girl’s name was Lyalya, Yaya for short…and for English speakers whose tongues couldn’t contort into the syllables necessary to pronounce it.

Most everyone who’d attended from Thandie’s school was families with money, but Yaya was the only one who’d shown up with sunglasses-wearing bodyguards in dark suits.

Xara had noticed Giorgio watching them when they entered. It was hard to get a read on him, but she’d still been able to tell there was something about them he either didn’t like, recognized, or both. Whatever it was, she never wanted to be on the receiving end of Giorgio Pozza’s “dislike.” It seemed more like a death sentence than a social circle snub.

“Did Yaya do something?” Xara asked.

“She called me a bad word.” Thandie, pouting, faced her. “I can’t say the word, but Mommy said it’s a bad word, and I shouldn’t let people call me that.”

Xara tapped her ear. “Whisper it to me then.”

Thandie leaned forward.

When the word left Thandie’s lips, Xara almost cursed out loud herself.

“She said it was what you call people who look like me.” Thandie held out a smooth, brown forearm. “With my color.”

Logic said she couldn’t beat up a child and that Yaya, given her age, had definitely learned that word from someone older and ignorant. That didn’t stop her from imagining herself marching over to give the little stormy-eyed cherub a history lesson.

“You’re right, she shouldn’t call you that,” Xara affirmed. “And, I’ll tell you know what? I’ll talk to your Mom. We’ll handle it.”

Thandie nodded. “Thank you, Auntie Xara.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But, before you handle it, can you help me go to the bathroom?”

Her Velociraprincess outfit would make it impossible for her to get out of it herself.

“Yeah. Come on.”

She walked Thandie out of the tent to the bathroom facilities across the large park. Once inside, she helped her unzip her costume and waited outside the stall. While she waited, her mind replayed the incident. Thandie was seven. Seven. It was unfair to her to ever have to be exposed to that word in the first place, especially used in such a manner, but seven was entirely too soon for it. Even if Thandie didn’t understand the full extent of the slur, she knew it hurt, and she knew it was tied to her appearance. That, in and of itself, was traumatic.

Small knuckles rapped on the stall door. “I’m all done, Auntie Xara.”

Xara stepped back so Thandie could push the door open, entered the stall, and helped her back into her costume. They walked over to the sinks, washed their hands, and without prompting, Thandie took her hand as they left the bathroom facility.

I want a daughter.

The thought hit her like a lurker jumping from their hiding spot.

She and Mike didn’t really care whether their first child was a son or daughter, but she realized, right then, that she wouldn’t mind a Velociraprincess like Thandie.

She received a text from Ari that said she should bring Thandie to the parking lot when they were finished so she could change back into her regular clothes. On the way to the parking lot, to take Thandie’s mind off the incident, she asked her about school, her baby brother, and how she was liking her party—whatever topic she could think of until she was handing her off to Ari to get changed in the back of the family’s Land Rover.

“I’ll go finish up at the Chic Tent,” Xara said, walking off.

Ari lowered the car window. “When you’re done, head over to the picnic tables. We’re gonna eat soon. The family table is the one with the yellow balloons.”

Xara smiled. She loved it when they used that word.

“Okay.”

Suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to see her husband, she pulled out her phone. Just as she was getting ready to text, arms snaked around her from behind.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted.

“Hallo, beautiful.”

That’s not Mike.

She jerked away from the person’s hold. They spoke with an accent that sounded distinctively Russian. A gentle Russian. Like if the language was hit with a cloud of setting powder. His English wasn’t as broken as Giorgio’s, however.

A man, tall with blond hair past his shoulders and icy blue eyes, waved. “Hallo.”

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“No, no.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark brown slacks. “Well, maybe. Your name, what is it?”

“None of your business.”

He grinned. “Earlier, at the little, uh,” he drew a circle in the air with his index finger, “fashion show, I notice your shirt come up. You have dragon on your side.”

Xara self-consciously tugged at her shirt. “And?”

“I like it. And ring in your nose. And your hair.” He dragged his gaze over her body. “Come home with me.”

Xara turned to walk away.

He stepped forward and grabbed her elbow. “Why do you walk off?”

“Because,” she pulled away from his grip, “I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

“You come here with the Chinese guy.” He used his fingers at the corners of his eyes to stretch them into slits, and she realized this man had to somehow be connected to Yaya. “You know Chinese men have little penis, yes?”

“Fuck off.”

When she started off this time, he hurried and placed his body in her path.

“The way you talk,” he said. “You do not bend. You are strong, but I will make you bend, on your knees, with my coc—”

Her hand connected with the skin on the side of his face. “Fuck off,” she repeated. “I’m not wasting any more time on you. Grab me again, and I can do a lot worse.”

He rubbed the spot, grin slackening his jaw.

It made her think of slime and sludge.

She didn’t run off; she didn’t want him to assume she was afraid of him or in any kind of hurry to get away from him. Instead, she took her time walking back into the venue, not so much as tossing a glance over her shoulder.

* * * * *

Mike moved his head from side to side, studying the man who’d grabbed Xara, his wife in the parking lot. He could leave the situation alone since Xara had handled herself well. He could go check on her, ask her about it, and give her a chance to talk him down. But his brain wasn’t exactly wired that way.

It needed an outlet.

Retribution.

Bloodshed.

And it would get it.

Soon.

Mike watched Xara bend over to place a slice of cake in front of a child and ask them what they wanted to drink. Bending stretched her jeans tight over her already round ass, and Mosvar shifted in his seat. Grabbed his dick. 

Mike felt the vein in his neck pop.

That’s strike two, motherfucker.

Xara jerked away from the person’s hold. They spoke with an accent that sounded distinctively Russian. A gentle Russian. Like if the language was hit with a cloud of setting powder.

A man, tall with blond hair past his shoulders and icy blue eyes, waved. “Hallo.”

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“No, no.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark brown slacks. “Well, maybe. Your name, what is it?”

“None of your business.”

He grinned. “Earlier, at the little, uh,” he drew a circle in the air with his index finger, “fashion show, you leaned and your shirt came up. You have a dragon on your side.”

Xara self-consciously tugged at her shirt. “And?”

“I like it. That and your ring in your nose. And your hair.” He dragged his gaze over her body. “And everything else.”