Page 67 of Vengeful King

Like they’ve fought and killed before.

I keep my head down and follow Lachlan into the building. I may not know how to feel about him or my feelings toward him, but I still trust him more than his brothers. At least I’m familiar with him.

I don’t have any illusions about this, though. I know if push comes to shove, he’ll save his brothers over me. I just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.

The building looks like it used to house offices. It’s gutted in places, worn down by time and maybe a few gunfights. There are men everywhere, as soon as we enter. None seem worried about Lachlan’s entourage, but I notice the first man that sees us murmur into his sleeve.

They’ll know we’re here.

I clench my hands and try not to think about what might happen. The men around us may not seem hostile, but I know that could change at the drop of a penny. If they feel threatened, they might do something.

We stop after ascending two floors. There’s a man at the landing when we leave the staircase; he’s dressed nicer than the others, his silvery hair pushed back from a strong face with high cheekbones. He looks older than Lachlan by maybe fifteen years, well-built and alert.

“O’Reilly,” the man says, dipping his head briefly. It’s respectful, but not deferential.

Lachlan stops short. “Mikhail. I’m here to meet with Nikolai. It’s urgent.”

Mikhail glances over Lachlan’s shoulder. He has shockingly bright gray eyes, and they’re sharp as they assess the group before him. He nods once, gesturing with his left hand. Behind him, a group of men move.

“Lucky he was back in time,” Mikhail says. He leads the way across the floor, toward the elevator in the center of the building. “One day earlier, and this urgency would not have been answered.”

Lachlan doesn’t comment. He follows silently and then we all crowd into the elevator. It’s exposed, a grated box with thick cables visible at the top. I feel my stomach turn while we rise, feeling like I’m in a cage all over again.

I’m grateful to get out when the doors finally open at the top floor. Mikhail hangs back, but I can see security scattered along the pillars to either side of us. The effect is like a long hallway leading to a table at the far side of the floor, right at the large glass windows overlooking the docks.

The man standing by the table is large and wide. He’s like a brick wall, his deep blue suit pants stretched over obvious muscles. He’s older, his hair more white than black, but he’s still imposing. I believe Lachlan and his brothers would have a serious fight on their hands if they tried to take him.

“Ah. O’Reilly,” the man says, waving a hand at the desk before him. “A drink?”

“No, thank you.”

The man nods. He doesn’t seem put out by the refusal; he’s nursing something clear in a glass, half facing the window. “You have business with me.”

“Yes. Have you been branching into loans recently?”

“No. Other than protection, but that’s been part of our business for years,” the man says, a smirk on his lips. “But don’t tell the Devils.”

Somehow, I feel like the Devils is a name. Like he’s talking about specific people. At least his answer seems civil so far—but I’m not going to let my guard down.

If I have to run, I’ll run. And maybe I can escape for good.

Aiden nods. “Yuri is back, Nikolai.”

So that’s him. Nikolai, the man behind the desk, pauses. He looks at the brothers, more serious, something shuttered about his expression. He’s doing a good job of hiding his reaction.

“We only wanted to know your part in it,” Lachlan says smoothly. “If you’re in league with him…well, it would be a problem.”

I hold my breath. I can feel my heart racing; I have to fight not to look around the room. I don’t know how the brothers do it. They all hold their ground, serious, no cracks in their armor.

They didn’t beat around the bush. I expected them to ease into this, be careful of accusing this man. But they’re airing out exactly what they came for, no secrets or minced words.

Nikolai sets his glass down and turns to fully face Lachlan, his gaze steady and serious. “In league? Not at all. I didn’t even know Yuri was back. This concerns me.”

It’s obvious from the staunch look on his face and the rigidness in his spine that he’s telling the truth. Whatever Yuri used to be to this man, he’s not a friend now. I’m at least a little relieved that this man seems to be on good terms with the O’Reilly family.

“Does it?” Lachlan asks.

“I keep tabs on everything, you know. Especially when it comes to Russian operatives.”

---