His to Steal

Ch. 3: Shield

Nicolai

I spin out and away from the scene of the ambush without looking back, my heart pounding in my throat.

What the fuck was that?

I'd never seen any of those people before in my life, except for the fucker I shielded Sutton from. I'd seen him leering at her in the club as she played, but I figured he was just another disgusting piece of shit who went to the club to objectify women who are just trying to make a living.

But when I forced myself to leave the club before Sutton could see me, I couldn't help but sense that something was going on. There was too much buzzing around outside; it signaled trouble.

I might not be in Sutton's life anymore, but I didn't want something to happen to her. And something told me not to trust those assholes loitering outside the joint.

So yeah. I followed the car. And I'm fucking glad I did. I remembered enough about Xavier to know that he wouldn't leave Sutton unprotected, but these men had a plan. They came at them from both sides, and while her bodyguard was distracted, that kurac from the club was going to...well, I don't know what he was going to do to Sutton, and I honestly don't want to think about it.

I'm just glad I was there to stop it.

But I hope she didn't see me. I don't want to disrupt her life again, and I certainly don't want to get mixed up in whatever the fuck all that was.

I have enough to worry about with Juri wanting me to work this job. When I report back about the clientele in the club, his beady little eyes will practically flash with dollar signs.

I have to try to get out of it somehow.

I park my bike in front of our headquarters and duck inside. Immediately, I'm hit with a barrage of questions, and not the ones I'm expecting.

"Rođaka, what the hell happened? You had one job. Go in the club, figure out if it was going to be lucrative for business, then come back here and give me details. And then I hear you're involved in some car chase? Koji kurac? What were you thinking?"

My eyebrows furrow and I toss my helmet and jacket onto the chair in front of his ostentatious ebony desk. "How the hell do you even know about that?"

Juri leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, a smug expression crossing his face.

"I have eyes everywhere." He clicks his tongue. "Glup dečko, you really should learn a little something about playing your hand closer to your vest."

I see red, slamming my palms on his desk and leaning into his face.

"Slušaj, kreten. I am so sick of you calling me boy," I hiss at him. "You have no idea what you're getting into with Xavier Banks' crew. They're bad fucking news, rođaka."

Juri rises and walks around the corner of the desk, standing toe to toe with me.

"What would you know about Banks?" His expression doesn't change, and his voice is flat when he asks, "Can we move product through there or not?"

My eyes narrow and my lip curls as I weigh my options. Juri doesn't know my history with the Banks family or the Ring, and this isn't the time to tell him.

I want to get out of this job, but getting Juri to take me seriously would mean tipping my hand—admitting to a past I've tried leave behind. And then there's no telling what Juri would demand of me, or how many fingers Boss would break.

Regardless of how I feel about dealing with Wicked Sins, I'm in the Gospodari and it isn't as easy as just walking away. No matter how pissed off I am. Like it or not, I have to fall in line.