Page 93 of Manic

“Six. The group is coming in from the east, but they aren’t spread out. A hundred feet.”

“Just what we need,” Grave said, gripping his own pistol.

We swiveled our attention sideways.

Knowing that Sutton was only a few feet away, my heart rate picked up, blood boiling as another sensation crept in—something I’d only experienced once before with Raven. Fear.

Boots scuffed the air as Crowe members flanked us, and we faced east, waiting for our assailants to either show their faces or start firing their own guns. Five minutes went by before figures approached from the shadows, their shoulders swaying with every step.

I zeroed in on Dmitri as he came into view, accompanied by Draven and four other Russian members I didn’t recognize. They all wore holstered vests beneath thick jackets. We lowered our guns and met them halfway, planting ourselves in front of the car and the nearby crates.

“What are you doing here?” I asked in Russian.

“Making sure our shipment doesn’t get stolen,” Dmitri said with a smug grin, and his eyes flicked behind me. Toward the car.

My temper flared, sheer possessiveness overtaking my bloodstream. Dmitri has had an interest in Sutton ever since he’d seen her at the club, and now that she was in our possession as an asset, it only made his curiosity rise. I’d be a fool to think he was only here for those crates, meaning Sutton needed to stay in the fucking car.

“We have it handled,” Grave remarked. “Go back to where you crawled out of, Volkov.”

“After the last time?” Dmitri scoffed, then nodded to his men. Four split off to inspect the shipment, swallowed by the shadows until they reached the loading platform a few feet away.

“Doubtful,” Draven said, his eyes clashing with Dmitri’s. “We’re just upholding your end of the agreement.”

I swallowed a growl and watched as our crates were pried open by crowbars, the low groan of wooden lids echoing off the concrete port.

“Where is the rest of our shipment?” one Russian spat after a few seconds, and arguing ensued.

“This is why we came,” Dmitri remarked.

As the shouts rose, we were all forced toward where our members gathered, deep in their arguments. Their words swapped between Russian and Spanish as a cold wind blasted our faces. False bottom crates came into view, full of what looked to be those short shipments.

It wasn’t a short shipment. It was our regular order—the same number of handguns and assault rifles we usually received. Dmitri, as always, created a problem where there wasn’t one.

“I’m only here for delivery,” a cartel member said in English, his accent thick as he waved his hands. “Marco give order. I deliver. That’s it.”

“Marco. Polo. I don’t care what his fucking name is,” Dmitri spat, shaking his head. “Why is the delivery so small?”

“I’m wrong person to argue with,” the cartel member said. “Talk to Marco. He fix.”

The man was someone we frequently worked with, belonging to the Mexican cartel. They were responsible for the mass production of products while we handled the distribution in Canada.

“The fuck he will.” Dmitri lifted his gun, aiming at the cartel member. “Are you stealing from us? What would your boss do if he found out you were stealing? Where are the rest of our weapons? We have deliveries to make and people to please. We can’t do that with a short supply.”

The cartel member paled, his throat bobbing with a swallow.

I sighed and aimed my own gun at Dmitri, pulling the hammer with a click as adrenaline and fire surged inside me. His eyes slid to me, narrowing into slits. Draven pointed his gun at my forehead with a tilted smile, followed by the surrounding members.

“Put the gun down, Volkov,” I ordered. “Remember whose territory you’re in. You kill that cartel member, and you’re fucking everyone here. They would hunt you down for it, and if you used that brain of yours, you’d realize that this is a full shipment, not a partial. We’re here to pick up and distribute, not start a war with the cartel.”

“You’re really going to point your gun at someone you owe?” Dmitri asked coolly.

I switched to Russian, my blood cold at the implication. “I owe you nothing. We’re even since it was your family who fucked us in the first place.”

“Hardly.”

Dmitri scoffed but lowered his gun, followed by the others. With a cruel, chilling smirk, his attention drifted to Sutton as she appeared beside me. A burning sensation crawled beneath my skin, every muscle in my body locked tight. No.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed.