Page 3 of Shattered Empire (Shattered World)

His mistake.

Now he was lying with the fishes—or something like that. I wasn’t exactly sure where the bodies went, and I didn’t care to know.

The problem that hung over their heads was that the witness was a reporter and the daughter of one of the most powerful motorcycle gang leaders on the West Coast. Bailey Eriksen was a force to be reckoned with but was probably a bit dick drunk. For someone who’d been kidnapped, she did not seem to be in a hurry to leave, and from the sounds coming from their room at the end of the hall—she was sure as hell enjoying herself.

That was a mental image I could have lived without.

Whatever the three of them got up to in their spare time must have hypnotized her because less than twenty-four hours after she’d been kidnapped by them, she’d avidly agreed to be Kiernan’s personal “pet” in order to gain unfettered access to the flesh auction taking place beneath the gala we’d attended.

Technically, she’d agreed because it gave her the opportunity to find her missing friend and mentor, whom we thought might have been sold at auction herself. It was also a chance for me to find out what happened to Maleah. So maybe dick drunk was pushing it.

The newest setback? Bailey was now missing.

Okay, somissingwas a bit of a stretch. Bailey had been sold. An unfortunate byproduct of Kiernan and Seamus fucking up the operation by not identifying all the key players first. If they would have looked deeper into who ran the auction, Bailey wouldn’t have been sold to the very person she’d spent countless hours searching for.

Her friend.

A betrayal of the cruelest kind, and a plan that we believe was put into action long before Bailey ran into my brothers.

Nearly a week had passed since Bailey was taken, and the twins were coming up short. Guilt gnawed at my bones as I thought about the poor girl in some brothel somewhere. I had done nothing to help them find her. Instead, I’d secluded myself in my room, letting the guilt and depression weigh me down. It felt like a betrayal now that the cobwebs of grief had thinned. Time and time again, my family proved to me they were sticking by my side, and here I was, hellbent on avenging a dead man when there was every possibility Bailey was alive.

That was going to change.

As the funeral closed and the attendees filed out of the quiet graveyard, Vas and I remained. For someone who wanted to speak with me, Tomas sure was taking his sweet ass time. Then again, he didn’t get out to the West Coast all that often, and it was clear as day from the way they bowed their heads and shook his hand that Matthias’s people respected him.

Fuck, this guy was the Russian version of Barack Obama with his smooth swagger and amiable smile.

“Hello, Ava.” Well, shit. His voice was something akin to liquid gold. It was deep, his accent slightly thicker than Matthias’s, with a rich undertone that made me wonder if the female population of Boston surrendered their wet panties to him as he walked down the street. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I took his offered hand, giving it a firm shake. Amusement glittered in his eyes as he pulled it away. “Likewise,” I told him. “Thank you for making the trip.” I might as well keep to the niceties before he throws me to the curb like yesterday’s trash.

“Matthias was like a son to me.” Tomas’s jaw clenched, the muscles of his throat tightened, and he shook with barely contained fury as he gazed over at Matthias’s grave. “There is nowhere I would rather be, but I am unfortunately short on time. I have my own problems to contend with back in Boston, and I must be getting back. Why don’t we go grab a quick lunch, hmm?”

That wasn’t what I was expecting.

Was the man honestly going to make me wait in dreaded anticipation while we got a meal? Didn’t that just prolong the time he so adamantly said he didn’t have?

“I’m sure we can have the discussion here.” My eyes found his, and I held his stare unflinchingly. He searched my face, the lines of his forehead creasing slightly as he took in my tight features and clenched teeth. Could he hear my heart pounding beneath my rib cage as the fear of the looming ax above my head was drug ever closer?

Sweat collected along the back of my neck the longer the silence wore on. He was studying me, this giant man whose aged face still resembled a Greek god.

Tomas was timeless in his three-piece black suit and Armani shoes. His graying brown hair was swept up and back at the top, flanked by slick, shorter sides. His hazel eyes were piercing beneath thick lashes and bushy brows.

Long stubble was spread across his lower face, drawing my attention to his full lips and the sharp cut of his jawline. The resemblance between him and Vas was uncanny. Their resemblance was closer to brothers than father and son.

“No.” Tomas’s amused smile didn’t waver. “This is better discussed somewhere less out in the open, don’t you think?” My brows knitted in confusion, head tilting to the side slightly as I tried to decipher the meaning.

“I don’t—”

“Come.” He didn’t give me the chance to decline his offer or to figure out what the hell was going on. “There’s this nice little piroshki shop near to here.”

The fucker turned to leave without giving me a second glance. He knew I was going to follow him. I didn’t have a choice, and that was the worst part.

“And I thought Matthias was a cryptic asshole,” I muttered as I begrudgingly followed Vas’s father to his car.

Vas chuckled. “Where do you think he learned it from?” he teased. “They may not look alike, but personality wise Matthias is a carbon copy of my father.”

Was.

---