Page 51 of Echoes of Sin

“No,” I sighed. “But this? I can do this. I will do this, and you will let me.”

After a long pause, he finally agreed. “And the rest of your uncle’s men, will we have to worry about them?”

“No. Never again.”

The look on his face said he wanted more answers than I was prepared to give him.

“Never. You are safe, Ryan. So are they. I promise.”

“You can’t.”

“I can and I will.” I squeezed his shoulder and guided him towards the door. “See you soon. Brother.”

That earned me a glare, which only made me smile. “Too soon,” he said, and left, leaving Dmitri and me to take care of the mess.

“Papa is on his way with supplies and manpower,” Dmitri offered with a grim smile. “Ilya, I am—”

“If you apologize, I will shoot you in the thigh.” I knew my friend too well. “If you had not called me and told me about Karina, Brooke and I would have been fucking all afternoon while Oleg slaughtered everyone who matters to us.”

His lips twitched. “So you got angry, fought, and demanded to meet the little girl?”

My own smile widened. “Something like that.”

“Then we’re good?”

I nodded. “Better than good. You know what comes next.”

“Of course. Are you ready?”

“I was born ready.” We looked around the living room with satisfied smiles. “Let’s clean up this trash.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Brooke

Karina was safe in bed sleeping, and all the doors and windows were locked up tight, so I joined Lara in the kitchen. Her skin was still pale, and her lips were dry as she frowned at the half-empty bottle of red wine between us. “I don’t think we have enough wine.” Her voice was soft and low, still slightly shaky from the day’s events. After we’d washed up in the bathroom, Ryan had taken me and Karina to Lara’s house, while Ilya and Dmitri did whatever it was they were going to do.

I didn’t want to think about it too carefully, I wasn’t sure whether I could ever go back to my own home, but I had decided it was now or never, so six hours later we were back.

I smiled and shook my head. “We’ve already finished off one bottle, Lara. How many do you think we need?”

“As many bottles as it takes for my hands to stop shaking. To stop my mind from replaying the image of you with a gun pointed at your head, of seeing two men get their heads blown off right in front of me.” She reached for her glass and lifted it to her lips, taking three big gulps that drained the wine.

“Agreed.” I reached for my phone. “We can have some delivered.”

“Get about six bottles. And candy bars. And sour cream and onion chips.”

“Are you sure this is just trauma? Because that sounds suspiciously like a craving.”

Her eyes widened. “You bite your dirty damn mouth,” she answered with a small smile.

I smiled back, but it slowly faded as the weight of the day, of the past few days, hung heavy on me. “I’m sorry, Lara. None of this would have happened to you or to Ryan if it wasn’t for me.”

“Stop.” Lara’s gaze was fierce as it bored into me.

“No, I’m serious. God, the trauma you’ve been through is all my fault.”

“That’s bullshit, Brooke. This is because of that Russian asshole, and I don’t mean Ilya. There was obviously some underlying family tension that had little to do with you.”

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