Page 80 of Wolf

As the first polished shoe touched the floor, I knew this man was business. The cuff around his ankle was a tailor-made suit, the color a dark gray, and the socks white. By the second shoe, I could practically smell the lethality in the air as he cruised with smooth, simple movements out the car, not a single unnecessary movement expended until he stoodfacingus.

When I’d heard it was Ash’s father coming, I hadn’t quite expected someone so... old. This man’s face was wrinkled, deepened with heavy frown lines around his face, and a lack of wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. His hair was short but styled over his head in a cut that might have been out of date by at least fifty years, and he carried it as if he didn’t care. This man screamed old school, from the striped Armani suit to the silk-gloved hands tucking the golden cane underneath his arm. This suit didn’t wrinkle in the places it normally would in his movements, and I knew it had been custom tailored. Designed to hug, and hide everything he didn’t want tobeseen.

Pale green eyes reflected the late morning light as they narrowed on me and my brothers. He didn’t look surprised by much; even my height did little to impress him as the weighed brows sat close abovehiseyes.

“Where is Alexandria?” he asked, not one for small talk, itseemed.

I figured Alexandria was Ash’s real name, and I gestured behind me without moving a step. “Take your men off my people,” I demanded. “Then I’ll let youseeher.”

The man’s eyes darted across my face, slightly shocked at the audacity in which I told him what to do. I wasn’t sure how it was going to play out, but when I saw his lips flinch with what could only have been a smirk, I felt a momentary swell ofrelief.

“Fine.” The man held out his hand, and only a moment later did both the front car doors pop open and out stepped two giants. I mean, I was tall, but these guys must have been at least seven foot. With scars, piercings, and tattoos covering so much of their skin, the word “goons” immediately came to mind. One was dark haired, though, while the other had gone to the extent of bleaching his an almost yellowish blond. Both held many of the tattoos that I knew were faded old Russian military markings. They were strikingly different from the classic man’sattire.

One of the men handed him a black phone, and the old man reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a pair of reading glasses. He balanced them on the bridge of his nose and dialed a number before lifting it tohisear.

“Your work’s done. Come back,” was all he said before ending the call and handing it back to theblondgoon.

“Now, Alexandria.” He gestured his arm out to me as if expecting metomove.

Ididn’t.

The man’s relaxed expression quickly turned into a frown as I saw his patience wear thin. He opened his mouth, probably to demand I move this time, but before he could, the shrill ring of a phone cuthimoff.

The older man looked to his goon, but it wasn’t his phone that wasringing.

I held out my hand as Polo placed a black burner phoneinsideit.

“What’s that?” the man snapped, his aged voice dipping into a hoarsegrowl.

“Assurance,” I replied as I answered the call, placing the phone tomyear.

“Wolf,” Amanda, Polo’s old lady, greeted me, her voice calm. “Big, tattooed, and ugly just walked off. He got into his carandleft.”

We had managed to call the salon on the sly and get in contact with Amanda only, considering she was the old lady with the most seniority. I knew I could trust her to keep her calm and not look suspicious when I told her something was up. This old bastard had been behind killing off Spider by saving him only to dump him in the nearby lake, so I couldn’t be entirely sure that I wouldn’t be double-crossed. This was the only way I couldbesure.

“Thanks,” I said, hearing her quick goodbye before I hung up the phone and passed it back to Polo, who dropped it to the floor before crushing it underhisboot.

With that, I stepped aside, letting Ash stepforward.

Her shoulders were squared, her chin raised as she took the long, confident stride around me, eyes forward as she faced her father. But she couldn’t deceive me. I could see the way her shoulder muscles rippled down her back through the exposed jacket. The way her bones looked like they were about to snap as she fought every urge not to curl into herself and cower in front ofthisman.

Her father’s expression suddenly changed, and darkness descended like a screen over his face. I saw him force down the need to snarl, his eyes shrinking into tiny slits as he regarded hisdaughter.

“Alexandria.” He practically hissed the word, and the bad feeling inside of me only grew worse. Despite the fact I didn’t like her, every fiber and instinct in my body demanded I grab her and put her back behind me. Sacrificing herself for Anna was so wrong. So very wrong that I couldn’t help but think it was amistake.

I was only momentarily distracted by the anxiety clawing its way up into my brain as the older man snapped his eyes from his daughter and moved back tomyface.

The second man, the darker haired of the two, stepped out from behind his employer; he was large, muscled, and plain and simple a goon even without his all-black attire. This one I knew wasn’t a part of the Black Jacks or ex-military of any kind, and I was convinced even more so as he rounded the vehicle, popped open the trunk, and dragged from it a man with a black hood over his head, covered in all the prison tattoos, jewelry, and scarring I knew made him ex-Bratva.

The goon shoved the man at my feet, pulling off the black cloth from overhishead.

Two green-blue bloodshot eyes ringed with dark circles into a face rugged with a partial growth of stubble on his hard jaw and an almost gray, pale skin tone looked back at me. He looked young, but I could tell that was deceptive as my eyes read his tattoos as well, knowing he was of the older world. What surprised me the most, though, was the green snake curling up over his forearm, red beading eyes like rubies over the top of hiswrist.

I felt my blood rush with heat as I put two and two together. “You,” I growled, a red film threatening to descend over me as I realized who thisfuckerwas.

“A gift for your troubles.” The older man gestured to me, his wrinkled hand pointing down to the guy on thefloor.

The man snarled at me, his eyes feral with aggression to hide the concern for his life lurking behind them. I saw his palms flatten on the floor in front of him despite the ties around his wrist, knowing he was preparing to attack me if I made even a single movetowardhim.

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