Page 22 of Tangled Souls

CHAPTER 8

MAXIM

I’m practically skipping into the warehouse to see our newest guest. Knowing that he’s waiting there for us, the asshole who thought it would be a good idea to track down our woman and threaten her, has me excited about shedding some blood. I need this.

It’s not just for me either, even though I really want to make this guy suffer. Kirill needs answers and not being here with us is going to weigh heavily on him. I do think he’s right where he’s supposed to be though.

If he were here with us, I’m not sure we’d get any fucking answers. Kirill would have walked into the room, taken one look at the asshole, and killed him.

Not a single question would have been asked, let alone answered.

This way we have a chance to find out his deal.

“I know who this guy is,” Huck’s voice stops me in my tracks before I open the door leading to the basement which is outfitted for wet work.

Since he’s behind me because I wasn’t going to wait for them, I turn around slowly. My eyebrows shoot up toward my hairlineas I look at him expectantly.

“I did a little digging on the way here,” he explains. “He’s Mikhail’s cousin. It’s the only Adam I could find. Adam Peterson. He’s the son of Anatoly’s sister who wasn’t part of the business at all. She avoided it all her life. She got married and had Adam.”

“Does this mean I can just kill him?” The question is hopeful as fuck as it slips from my lips.

Huck shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “No, we still need to ask him a few questions. He might know more about Mikhail’s plan or maybe we can use him as leverage later.”

“You’re no fucking fun,” I grumble as I head toward the door leading downstairs.

I almost roll my eyes when I think about how Mikhail targeted our last wet work designated warehouse. If he thought it was going to slow us down, or even put a dent in our operation, he didn’t do enough research. Kirill is the kind of man who thrives on being prepared.

Which is why I know Adam getting close to Oaklynn will be eating at him. He’ll be blaming himself and trying to figure out how to lock our woman down. The thing is, she won’t let that happen.

Our wife is independent. As she should be.

Our wife is stubborn as hell. Which means she’ll go toe-to-toe with Kirill and not back down. It’s what he needs.

Our wife is smart. She’ll know exactly what Kirill needs, give it to him, and then convince him that wrapping her in wool and trying to keep danger away from her isn’t going to work.

Not in our world.

It’s not like I don’t want to keep her safe, I desperately do, but every day is filled with variables I can’t foresee. I could be lost in the unknown, in all the possibilities of what could go wrong, or I can trust our woman.

I choose to trust her. She can protect herself, even if I never want her to have to do so. None of us can be with her all the time and I won’t stifle her because of my own needs. That would be cruel and make us no better than her dead father.

None of us want that.

Adam’s head snaps up when I walk into the room. I don’t bother looking around the sparse room. You don’t need much when it comes to torture. The best feature is the drain in the middle of the floor.

“Comfortable?” My question is a taunt that I hope gets under his skin.

Adam sneers at me but keeps his mouth closed. Pity.

I grab the brass knuckles from the table as I pass it, my eyes locked on the idiot in front of me. Slipping the weapon on my hand, I relax my fingers before curling them into a fist.

“Hurting me would be a mistake,” Adam tries to keep the wobble out of his voice, but I can hear it.

“Oh? Why would that be?”

“You don’t want to piss my cousin off,” he warns.

I pout and slump my shoulders. “Is your cousin really important or something? Is that why I should be afraid of them?”

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