Page 131 of My Pucking Crush

“Max,” I bark. “Sit your ass down. Ivan, give me a few hours. I’ll take Max home. And then...”

“Luca, no. It’s just a game.” Max wobbles to Ivan. “Break my arm. I won’t be able to play. You can have this round. Good luck against Portland.”

“And pass up a good game of violent toxic masculinity?” Belova sneers.

“Why do you want me back so badly?” I argue. “Is it Lia’s insurance money? You can have it.”

I’d give up anything for Max.

“I was blind with grief over my beloved sister.” Belova lights a cigarette with a silver butane lighter. “Not thinking straight. Months later, brigadiers hinted that the ranks grew weary of a leader who tries to kill one of his own.” He stares at me with regret in his dark eyes. “How can anyone ever be safe. Most work for me for safety.”

His reasoning sounds fucked up, but it’s valid.

“Ivan,” I bite out. “Where’s my phone?”

“One of my men has it. All your tracking apps have been deleted before we got here.”

There goes the hope that someone could find me. “Check the Trip app,” I say, smiling.

Belova glowers at me and snaps his fingers. “Phone. Now.”

Nero emerges from the shadows and I freeze. Lia’s bodyguard is dressed in a finely cut suit, better than he ever wore protecting my wife.

He gives me a wry smile. There was nothing between us, except two men living in secret who had needs. A glint on his lapel dries up my throat. The fucking Viking Penannular pin?

He’sBelova’s new enforcer?

“Where’s Petrov?” I ask about the man I worked for.

“Dead,” Belova says with no emotion. “Makov, too. Your sister murdered them.”

Oh. Shit. And he’ll probably kill Orlov in order to elevate me to underboss.

“Is the phone unlocked?” Belova asks Nero.

“Da, boss,” he answers, lips pursed seeing me.

This freak acts like we’ll just pick up where we left off. The thought of touching anyone again or someone else touching me makes me sick.

“Where is this app?” Belova waves my phone at me. How they got it unlocked is the least of my concerns.

“Last page,” I answer.

He scrolls and by the way his face changes, I can tell he recognizes what app I’m talking about.

My Tripwire app.

If I don’t feed it a code every twenty-four hours, it assumes I’m dead and follows my last instructions. Which includes sending files to the FBI. I set it up when I learned Ivan bought Richmond.

His jaw drops. “Deactivate this.Now.”

I shake my head.

“I will only ask you one more time.” Belova waves his hand until Nero gives him his Magnum.

“Shoot me.” I shrug. “I get to be with my son, andyears of murder evidence will be sent to the FBI.Andthe TSA. Good luck using one of your fake passports.”

Belova shoots a few thunderous rounds at my feet. The bullets hit the scarred, dirty concrete, sending sharp chunks flying up. One lands in my left cheek, nearly hitting my eye.

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