Page 45 of Sexting the Silverfox

She’s about to cry, so I pull her in for another kiss, eager to reassure her. I taste the coffee on her lips, the subtle hint of hazelnut lingering between us. “Audrey, you’re not going anywhere. We’re going to deal with this together.”

“How, Jason? You don’t know these people; you don’t know what they’re capable of.”

“Oh, I’ve got a clue, considering what happened the first time they tried to take you,” I say, trying not to let my anger get the better of me. “Believe it or not, Audrey, even the Bratva has its weaknesses. We just need to find them. Keep in mind, they will never be above law enforcement or the military.”

“There are hidden interests here,” she grumbles and lowers her gaze. “The local authorities let them run their shady businesses because a lot of money goes into a lot of political pockets.”

“We need to find the Abramovic family’s limits. They have to draw the line somewhere, and I bet your brother Anton can help us with the details.”

“Okay, I’ll call him back,” she says and reaches for her phone.

A heavy knock on the front door has us both still as statues for the longest second. Audrey looks at me with fear in her eyes.

“Are you expecting anybody?” she whispers.

I shake my head. “No. Go in the bedroom and lock the door.”

“Jason—”

“Do it.”

A moment later, Audrey dashes out of the kitchen and runs into the bedroom to hide. As soon as I hear the lock clicking, I head to the front door and look through the peephole. It’s Anton. I breathe a sigh of relief and open the door, only to realize that he’s not alone. And the look on his face tells me this isn’t going to go well.

Standing next to Anton is an older man with similar features. He’s in his early sixties with close-cropped white hair and a flurry of fine lines surrounding his cool, blue eyes.

I can see where Audrey and Anton get their icy aesthetic from. The man is well-dressed in a dark grey suit custom-tailored to fit his tall, muscular frame. By comparison, he seems like a titan next to his mortal son.

But it’s the four goons they’ve brought along with them that make my blood run cold.

“What is this?” I ask, keeping my voice down.

Every muscle in my body feels tense, and my senses tingle in the presence of undeniable danger. No matter what happens next, I have to protect Audrey from both Bratvas. No matter what. The elder man puts a hand on Anton’s shoulder, prompting Audrey’s brother to give me a nervous half-smile.

“Pardon the intrusion,” the elder man says in a thick Russian accent. “But I believe you have something of ours.”

Anton smiles apologetically. “I tried to keep the old man out of it, Jason, but—”

“But nothing,” his father cuts him off with a sharp tone, then looks at me with smiling eyes. “I’m Grigori Fedorov. You must be Jason Winchester.”

“I am. And I don’t recall inviting any of you over.”

“Like I said, you have something of ours, and I’d like it back now,” Grigori replies.

“By ‘it,’ you mean your living, breathing daughter? I’m sorry, she’s not in right now,” I shoot back.

Grigori scoffs while his goons come closer. Only now do I see the holstered guns on their leather belts and the cold, deadly glares they’re wearing, especially for me. I could try and take them on, but I’d be outnumbered. My guns are in the living room safe. Even if I do try to get to them, I won’t make it in time. One of these fuckers will shoot me first.

The inability to do anything in order to protect Audrey becomes painfully, stingingly clear. However, I can’t bring myself to accept it. My honor demands that I try something. Anything.

“Mr. Winchester, I understand that you have genuine affection toward my daughter, and I respect that,” Grigori says. “But Chicago clearly is no longer a safe place for her. I’ve come to take Audrey home, where she belongs.”

“Mr. Fedorov, Audrey left New York for a reason,” I insist. “You should respect your daughter’s wishes.”

“And you should stay out of family business,” Grigori warns, his tone sharp and definite.

His goons inch closer as if placing an underline under what Grigori just said for special emphasis. I look at Anton with genuine confusion—the man I see now is not the man I met yesterday—but then I realize that he’s no longer in charge when Grigori is around. Anton is cold and calculating, confident and charming, but when his father steps into the picture, he’s clearly second in command. With his power diminished, he can’t do a thing without Grigori’s permission.

“I thought you were going to help your sister,” I remind Anton.

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