Nikolai smirks. “Then this idiot went and made a fool of her. On top of that, he faked his death.”
“Nothing worse than a woman scorned.”
“Where is she now?” I slide into the backseat of the G-Wagon.
“In Portland with Vas and her father,” Maksim reports. “Looks like O’Malley’s niece stole some evidence from lockup for her on her mother’s case.”
I wish I could have been there for her.
“How did O’Malley get Kavanaugh to agree to a sit down?” It is well known the two Irish families have a long, blood-filled history with one another.
“O’Malley threatened to withhold the evidence pertaining to Ava’s mother if he didn’t agree.”
“And no one is dead?”
Nikolai laughs.
“According to Vas, everything is groovy.” Nicolai pitches his tone at the last word. It makes him sound like a blonde-haired surfer boy named Crash who smokes pot. Or Shaggy from Scooby-Doo.
“Get me something more than groovy,” I tell him, mimicking his tone. Andrei smirks at me and for the briefest of moments I wonder how he sees me.
Will he think I’m a good leader?
Will he accept how I run my organization?
Part of me feels like a teenager again, begging for approval. I want my biological father to be proud of what I’ve built.
“Where to, boss?” Maksim asks as he pulls through the gate and onto the main thoroughfare.
“Let’s regroup at the penthouse and head out from there,” I tell him. “Let Damon know to have the helicopter fueled and ready to go in two hours.”
Maksim nods.
Sitting back into my seat, I sigh. It is good to be home.
“So,” Dima breaks the peaceful tranquility that settles over us. “Who’s gonna tell Ava about Kenzi being a badass ninja and you miraculously being raised from the dead? Cuz,” he taps his finger to his nose. “Not it.”
The whole car—save for Andrei—follows suit with a chorus of ‘not it’ ringing through the small space.
Fucking children.
My biological father laughs heartily before shrugging and sticking his finger to his nose.
“Not it.”
The whole car breaks into a fit of laughter.
Yes—it is certainly good to be home.
“Your woman has a thing for kneecaps,” Vas groans into the phone. “She’s obsessed with them.”
I chuckle. Apparently my sweet defiant wife has turned into a bit of a psycho. I would be lying if I didn’t admit it turns me on.
A lot.
“Doesn’t surprise me.” The noise of the helicopter is nothing but a dim sound in the background with the headset on. “Look who she lived with for half her life.”
“Kenzi is a bit of a psycho herself,” Dima grunts next to me. Kenzi slaps him across the head, and he grins. “Just saying.” He shrugs.