Page 68 of Bratva's Mercy
Too many memories of them being together were stamped all over that place. From the photo frames on the wall to the his & his mugs he still had in his cupboard. I couldn’t be certain who Leo was thinking about when we were at his house.
“That makes sense,” Nik said.
“The place still needs furniture, though. Jess said she would help me shop around.”
“Or, hear me out. How about we not ask Jess but have Leo help you?”
Hmm, Leo helping me decorate the new place? Would he even agree to it?
“It’ll give you an excuse to spend more time with him.”
“Yeah.” I gave him a slow nod. “Not bad.”
“See? You should come to me more often with your troubles.” He drew close to me with his arms outstretched as if he was going to hug me. “Uncle Nik can solve them for you.”
I shoved him away from me and opened the door to my truck. “Uncle my ass. Fuck off already. But thanks.”
I started my engine but waited until he got into his car and pulled out of the lot ahead of me. I stayed where I was for a few seconds longer than necessary, engine idling low, watching his taillights disappear around the corner. It was a habit more than anything else, making sure my people cleared out safely before I concerned myself with the rest of the night. Only when the street swallowed him up did I follow.
The city had that late-night lull to it, when most people were already in bed and sinners came out to play. The occasional car passed by, but otherwise, it was just me, my truck, and the long stretch of the road ahead.
Leo waited at the end of this drive.
The thought grounded me in a way nothing else could have of late. I pictured him the way I’d left him the night before, pretending to be asleep when I slipped into bed behind him. We had a silent truce. He didn’t confront me about still breaking and entering, and I didn’t call him out for his quiet acceptance of me sharing his bed, even though the next day he feigned ignorance.
Those few hours beside him had started to feel like something I needed at the end of my night.
I exhaled slowly, rolling my neck to ease the tension there. Then I checked my rearview mirror and clocked the headlights of a motorcycle. It didn’t register as anything at first. Just another vehicle cutting through the empty streets, engine louder than necessary in the quiet. But it stayed on my tail. Close enough that I noticed it.
My grip tightened on the wheel. I adjusted my speed slightly, not enough to be obvious, just enough to test him, and the rider matched it. A familiar awareness slid into place, sharpening everything around me. I took the next turn without signaling, sharper than usual, watching the mirror.
He followed.
Of course the bastard did.
Leo’s house was less than ten minutes from here. I wasn’t going anywhere near it when I didn’t know who was on my tail. I wasn’t dragging him into this. Eventually, he would have to accept the kind of man I was, but I couldn’t afford for anything to fuck that up. He should know that I would protect him, not lead danger to his doorstep.
I turned again, cutting deeper into the city, choosing streets that had less traffic. The motorcycle closed the distance behind me, the engine revving louder as if the man riding it had grown tired of the chase.
His arm lifted, brandishing a pistol. The first shot cracked through the night, loud and violent, shattering the quiet. The impact slammed into the back of my truck, and the metal buckled under the pressure with a harsh, grating sound. I swore under my breath and hit the accelerator, the engine roaring as the truck surged forward. Another shot rang out, and glass splintered behind me. This wasn’t a warning shot. Whoever was behind that helmet was trying to end me.
Too bad for him, I wasn’t about to die that easily.
I swerved to throw off his aim, cutting across the lane before snapping the wheel back. The bike stayed on me, hugging every movement like he’d anticipated it. He was likely trained and not just an amateur looking for a lucky hit.
My jaw tightened. I eased off the gas for half a second, letting him think he was gaining ground, letting him close that distance enough to get confident, then I slammed the brakes. The truck jerked hard, tires screeching as the sudden stop forced him forward. He adjusted his speed, but he wasn’t fast enough.
I swerved into him, and the impact was brutal. Metal crashed against metal, the front of my truck clipping the side of the motorcycle and sending it spinning out from under him. The rider was thrown clear, his body hitting the asphalt and sliding across it before slamming into the curb with a sickening thud.
I brought the truck to a stop a few yards ahead, my pulse steady, my breathing controlled as I stepped out, pulling my gun from my waistband. Although the air was cool, I could feel the sweat beading down my back.
I walked back toward him, boots echoing faintly against the pavement. He lay twisted near the curb, his bike a crumpled mess and his weapon a few feet from it.
I could tell he was alive by the shallow rise and fall of hischest. Good. I crouched beside him, grabbing a fistful of his jacket and hauling him onto his back. I yanked off his helmet, revealing an unfamiliar face that looked quite young. He looked to be in his early twenties, but I knew better than to underestimate someone because of their youth. By the time I was his age, I was already dropping bodies to protect Maxim.
His eyes found mine, and he swallowed. I could smell the fear on him.
What was the sense of picking up a gun if you were afraid to die by it? I could never understand. I never chose this life. It chose me, and I’d prepaid for my own cremation years ago. If my enemies left me with a body after they were through with me. I knew Maxim would do his best to make sure that didn’t happen, and that was all I’d ever asked of him.
