Page 10 of Pistols and Plush Toys

“Mr. Brooks,” he addressed the kid, pitching his voice down. “You are not in danger. Please be calming down.”

When Nikolai pulled the bag off, Brooks flinched and tried to step back, but couldn’t. He was still being held between Pyotr and Alex. The zip ties around his wrists strained as he pulled them, and his shoulders shook with another sob.

It was uncomfortable to look at him. Nikolai had seen the face in candids going to and from the diner, but Brooks had only looked withdrawn or harried in those.

Now there were tear tracks down his cheeks, those big hazel eyes red and puffy from crying. His chestnut hair was messy and sweat-stuck to his forehead, his pale skin splotchy from distress.

The overall effect was enough to make anyone feel bad.

Or maybe it was just that he was so pretty and soft that it was hard to see him so scared. Brooks was twenty-six,Nikolai knew from his background check, but he looked so much younger here. He looked innocent and out of his league.

Nikolai had to remind himself that Brooks ending up here wasn’t because Nikolai was being the bad guy. That this was necessary.

When the first set of photos had come to Nikolai’s email, he’d looked upon Elliot Brooks, their potential target, and needed no further explanation as to why Vitale had chosen him. Brooks was young, beautiful, and no doubt eager to trade his looks for the money and perks Vitale could provide.

It was obvious too why Vitale kept Brooks under lock and key. Why they’d had to organize his abduction around the one time he was ever let out of that penthouse fortress.

Nikolai was still curious about the diner. About why Brooks had been allowed to go there at all. Alone. No one he’d had tailing Brooks could give Nikolai a definite answer other than Brooks worked there.

But why did Brooks need a job at all?

He pulled his thoughts back to the situation at hand. Brooks’s sweet features tugged at Nikolai's heartstrings, but Nikolai couldn’t afford to be swayed. He kept his face stern. Expressionless.

“My name Nikolai Tkachenko,” he said to Brooks. “Are you knowing this name?”

Being directly addressed seemed to help. The kid looked at him with wide eyes, tears still streaming down his cheeks, but he shook his head.

“Recently your lover, Vitale, fucked with my business,” Nikolai said. “He went back on a deal. You are here so he is agreeing to follow the rules. You understand?”

Brooks sucked in a hitched breath. “Follow… the rules?” He asked, voice a tiny, tremulous thing.

Nikolai stared at him, and Brooks's gaze immediately dropped to the floor, his breath coming faster. “Sorry! Yes, okay, yes I-I understand.”

But Nikolai was struck by his clear confusion. Was Brooks somehow unaware of his lover's work? Surely he had to know of it, would recognize what Nikolai was saying, even if the words were vague. Who didn’t question the amount of money a man like Vitale was bringing in? He lived in one of the nicest penthouses in the city. That didn’t just happen.

Nikolai stepped forward, closer to Brooks. He was almost a head taller than him, and Nikolai took no pleasure from the way the man shrank back from him. Nikolai knew how he looked when he was suited up and ready to handle business, because he’d designed it to be intimidating. Even if he wasn’t his father, he’d inherited a lot of the man’s looks. He had the height, the shoulders, the dimpled chin that was a signature of Tkachenko men.

Nikolai still resented it, but it came in handy. When he’d been getting his businesses off the ground and managing the unsavory bits that involved skirting the law, his physical presence had been an asset. The same was true when he had to do his duty and manage his father’s businesses. People who might have messed with him took one look at his face and thought better of it.

Not to mention that his father didn’t come to America often, but his reputation spanned in certain circles

This kid didn’t need to be intimidated, but Nikolai supposed it couldn’t hurt.

“I’m expect cooperation,” he said to Brooks. “If you are causing trouble, Pyotr or Alex will teach you manners.”

Brooks nodded rapidly. He looked terrified. Nikolai had to stomp down on the urge to reassure him. This was nota situation where he could comfort. He was the one who’d kidnapped Brooks in the first place.

“Vitale will require proof of life,”Nikolai said, gesturing toward the bed.

Pyotr and Alex nodded, moving Brooks toward the bed, and the kid started crying again, actually starting to struggle.

“Please—” he gasped. “Please don’t—please—”

“You willcooperate,”Nikolai growled at him.

Brooks choked on a sob and went limp. Nikolai's men delivered him to the bed without further issue, sitting him at the foot, unharmed.

Alex stayed close by while Pyotr went back to the door to stand guard. The kid made another small, broken sound.

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