Page 115 of Alik

Nikita’s brows raise. “Isaid, you’re cranky. And a bit unhinged. Is there something incorrect about that statement?”

I grumble under my breath and look down at the man. He looks like he’s inching away from me. As if he’d ever be able to make it out of here. I grab his leg and yank him toward the stairs until he tumbles down them, landing in a mangled heap on the concrete. I don’t hear his groans this time.

Nikita leans toward the stairs to peek at the man. “Great. Now he’s unconscious.” He shakes his head and looks at me. “I honestly can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Do you need sometime?”

“No.”

“Hmmm. I think you do.”

“For what?” I snarl, lifting my hands at my sides. “If you don’t like my work, do something about it.”

“Alik.” He sighs and looks around at the men talking loudly in Russian, counting money, packaging drugs. “You’re the only person I trust in this entire building. In the entireBratva. Believe me, if I could afford to kill you, I probably would. But … as it stands, you’re needed here.Sane.”

Nikita calling someone insane. What a fucking joke.

“Go home,” he says, standing straighter. “Make things right with the girl, if you want. Or don’t, but either way, don’t come back until you’re fixed.”

I laugh. “I’m not broken.”

My voice raises high enough that the room quiets as people look our way. I sound outraged. Defensive. And more than anything, I wish he was wrong.

But he isn’t.

Someone bangs on the warehouse door, and it makes my jaw tic, distracting me for a moment. When the banging doesn’t stop, I turn my head that way.

“Shit,” one of my brothers, Fox, says, staring at the monitor we keep for outside surveillance.

“Open the fucking door!” a voice shouts from the other side of the door. I go to step toward the monitor to see who it is when a gun goes off outside, blasting the lock. The fact that no one is doing anything about this tells me it must be someone untouchable.

The door flies open with a kick before Arthur Solace bursts through, his eyes wide, his face red. “Where is she?” he yells, swinging his gun at my brothers who’ve raised their own weapons.

“I’m assuming you don’t have a warrant,” Nikita says, stepping Arthur’s way. My eyes narrowed, I follow close behind him. “Did you bring backup? Or are you content with suicide?”

Arthur’s eyes find Nikita with fury, but when he spots me behind him, his eyes go manic.

“Where’s my daughter?” he demands, stomping toward me.

Olive?

Where’s Olive?

Why does he not know the answer to that?

Did she run away?

“Tell me, you son of a bitch, or I’ll fucking kill you.” He stabs me with his gun as he approaches, and several of my brothers close in on him as well. But no one touches him. No one says a thing.

They all know who he is to me. It was only a matter of time before the rumors flew, but it isn’t until now that I realize they’ve reached everyone.

“I don’t know,” I say to Arthur, shaking my head.

“Liar!” He rears his gun back and swings, but it’s clumsy in his rage, so I easily duck. When he stumbles forward with his momentum, I use the opportunity to rip the gun from his hand.

“Tell me where Olive is,” he says, desperately gripping my shoulders. Fox and Zinovy yank him backward, each holding an arm.

“I don’t know,” I repeat, my heart quickening. “Why don’tyouknow?” I blink, trying to understand this. “Did something happen?”

Why is he here? Why is he so scared that he’d show up at our warehouse with a useless gun and a rage-filled head?

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