Page 70 of King of Malice
“Yes?” My heart begins to race in my chest.
“There was an attack at your apartment.”
My chest grows so tight, I can’t even push out words.
“He wants to know what he should do with the bodies.”
“Which…”
Gris eyes me, his voice dropping, “He killed them before they even entered the building.”
Relief makes me limp. But Triston was right before. My home isn’t safe. I turn to Gris. “Have you got somewhere in mind we can go?”
Tazz enters the small space too, making it beyond crowded. “I’m going to need rubbing alcohol and some bandages.”
“You were shot,” Gris scoffs, watching the blood drip down Tazz’s thigh.
“Right. That’s why I need the alcohol.” He pushes past me toward the bathroom. I watch him disappear with a shake of my head. He’s as tough as any Russian. I might just hire him.
Gris watches him too. “If I get shot, I’m going to need more than rubbing alcohol.”
“I’ll make sure you’ve got whisky,” I answer with a small wink. I like Gris. While Triston is the head of the family and often prickly, Gris has an ease about him. It’s why he’s in charge of public relations.
He smiles back. “In terms of where we tuck you and your family away, the Kincaids keep a few buildings empty and under shell companies for just these kinds of situations.”
Noted. It’s a move I’ll make in the future, to have secret holdings for hiding out when necessary.
For now, I start shuttling everyone from the house out to the cars. Every able-bodied man sets a perimeter, though it’s an unnecessary precaution as no one attacks.
We load into the cars and speed off toward Vegas.
Tomorrow, we’ll have to clean up this whole mess. Tonight, though, is about keeping everyone safe.
It feels like it takes all night, but Anna is collected, bags are packed, and we’re moved in small batches to a state-of-the-art, empty, apartment building.
Several of the Kincaids are there, along with most of the Smith family.
Ryker Smith stands in the line of Smith brothers, his dark eyes assessing both of my sisters.
He looks more like Killian with rougher, harsher features, rather than the smooth good looks of Triston and Gris, but I hearone of my sister’s gasps, nonetheless. I turn to them, wondering which it might have been, but both have pulled their features into expressionless masks. Who reacted? Was it fear?
Or did one of them realize he’s the man who’s been promised to Katarina?
I can’t attend the puzzle now, as we’re moved into several apartments. The building, I’ve been told, was built like a bomb shelter.
My sisters are in one, Anna, Ava, and I in another, and Gertrude into a small unit at the end of the hall.
Despite being dragged to this place in the middle of the night, she gasps when she sees the place and promptly offers, “I’ll stay as long as you need, Mr. Ivanov.”
I nod my agreement. Under the circumstances, it suits all of us best that Gertrude stays for as long as possible.
In addition, Ryker and Rush Smith plan to stay on the floor below us, and tomorrow, Killian and his wife will join them to help create a bubble of protection.
“Ava and Chloe have a lot in common,” Triston assures me. I’m not surprised. Killian instantly understood Ava’s problems and he had ready answers to put her at ease.
I shake my head. The hitman that is an advocate for abused women. It has…a certain poetry.
Much like my own situation, I suppose.
