Page 170 of Mission Shift

Atticus raised both hands. “All right. That sounds like a story best told with food.”

Samantha gave Atticus a sidelong glance and moved to the counter, where a couple of boards filled with finger foods rested. She picked one up and walked to the dining area.

“We’re already on it,” Atticus said, heading for the oven. “There’s wine, beer, whatever you need in the fridge. Help yourselves.”

Samantha glanced back at Daria. “So—have you heard about Braxton getting snatched in Ukraine? The Russians ambushed his volunteer van. It was insane.”

Daria and I both laughed—a full-bellied kind of laugh that came from deep within.

I kissed her temple. “Oh yeah. She had a front-row seat to all my misadventures.”

Daria smirked. “And sometimes the driver’s seat.”

Atticus regarded us suspiciously, as though he was trying to decide if we were messing with him. “This is going to be one hell of a dinner.”

Chapter forty-six

Dinner wound down with empty plates and full bellies, but no one moved from the kitchen table. The four of us lingered—Atticus and Samantha sitting across from us, Daria at my side, her leg pressed against mine. She and I had laid it all out—starting with my capture, mentioning her torturous days in prison and then in her father’s estate, telling them about the engagement party at Malinov’s—poison capsule surgery included—and finally ending with our yachting trip that carried us halfway across the world.

I hadn’t planned on telling them everything tonight, but once we’d gotten going, it had just poured out.

“So, Nik and Luca pulled some strings,” I said, pushing my empty plate toward the center of the table. “She was given new documents, a new life story, and full US citizenship. Her realname is Daria Melnichenko, but from now on, she’ll be known as Dasha Thorin. It’s imperative that no one knows her true identity.”

“Don’t worry,” Sam said. “We’re good at maintaining confidential information. We have to do it at work all the time. Plus, I think it’s better for all of us to have as few mafia ties as possible.”

Atticus raised a brow and leaned back in his chair. “So…wait. You and Daria aren’t really married?”

I glanced at Daria and couldn’t help but smile. “It started out that way—just on paper. Something to get her out safely.” I reached for her hand and laced my fingers with hers. “But fate had other plans. Somewhere along the line, we fell in love. Turns out that pretending to be married is a dangerous game when you’re attracted to each other. With or without the paperwork, she’s mine as long as she’ll have me.”

Daria squeezed my hand, then kissed me softly on the cheek. “Usually, fate’s just a little bitch,” she said with a smirk. “But this time, she owed me. Gave me the best man I’ve ever known.” She turned toward Atticus and Sam, her voice dropping low as she added, “Braxton’s my soulmate. Anyone who tries to take him from me—I’ll bury them.”

“Oh, I’m not about to mess with fate,” Sam said, laughing as she got up and came around the table to pull Daria into a tight hug. “Welcome to the family.”

Daria blinked several times, stunned for a second. “God, you Americans are all so…touchy-feely.”

Samantha laughed harder. “Not all of us. Atticus isn’t much of a cuddler in public. Get him alone though? Whole different man. There isn’t an inch of me he hasn’t touched.”

Daria’s eyes widened. “Too much information, I think,” she said in a playful tone.

The two of them started clearing plates, chatting as they moved about the kitchen. They were hitting it off—really hitting it off. I hadn’t seen Daria this at ease around anyone else besides me.

They had more in common than I’d realized. Both had lost their moms when they were young. Both had been crushed by shitty fathers. Both had been carved into fighters by the men who’d tried to break them.

Samantha grabbed the last plate from the table and grinned back at Daria. “You’re a real-life superhero; you know that? All you need is a blue cape.”

Daria looked down, clearly a little thrown by the praise. “You’re the impressive one,” she muttered, wiping her hands on a towel. “You’re what, only twenty-four? And already a registered nurse and CEN. Not to mention you stood your ground when Viktor Volkov tried to hurt you. You didn’t run. You fought. And ultimately, he paid for it. Good thing he’s dead and can never come after you again, huh?”

Samantha froze halfway to the sink. “Wait…what did you just say?”

Daria turned slowly to face her. “I said he paid for it.”

Samantha’s mouth dropped. “No, the other part. Did you say…Viktor’s dead?”

I glanced at Daria, then stepped in. “Oh yeah,” I said, reaching for a bottle of water. “It’s been a wild couple of weeks. We haven’t even gotten to the part about our meeting with Luca Genovese.”

But before I could explain further, the front door opened.

Murphy perked up from where he was curled under the table, then bolted straight down the hallway like a cannonball.

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