Page 29 of The Ties That Bind

Halfway down the street was the house I’d only been in only a handful of times over the years, the first being when my father brought Jayce and I here as kids to show us where we came from and why we could never go back. The lesson had stuck and I’d stayed away as much as I could.

I shook my head to dislodge the memory, all the while wondering how Jayce and I could have turned out so differently.

When I pulled up behind the Mercedes, Aleksei’s hulking frame exited out of the driver side, while CeeCee’s long, toned legs slid out the other. Her shoes echoing like bullets on the broken concrete, she marched over to me and shoved her finger in my chest.

“If Arabella dies in there, I’m going to blame you.” She tossed an authoritative look toward the fearsome Russian and dragged her gaze back to me before adding, “You better hope to god my cousin walks out of that house on her own two feet.”

She didn’t wait to see how I’d respond to her threat. What could I have said, after all? If Arabella didn’t come out, I wouldn’t be either. Shit, it was likely neither Ben or Aleksei would either … which was why I was pulling out my phone and directing my accountant to wire the hundred thousand dollars I’d promised Aleksei ten minutes ago to CeeCee’s account. He’d held up his end of the bargain and I knew if things went south, he’d want the women he meant to marry get the cash in his stead.

She marched away and took over the driver’s seat. Then, popping her head out of the car one last time, she blew a kiss to Aleksei and whispered, as if this rescue mission most normal thing in the world, “I’ll keep the car running, baby.”

I held out my phone to show him the note about the wire transfer. A man of few words, he nodded once and then tapped on the rear of CeeCee’s car twice with his knuckles. She popped the trunk, revealing a whole arsenal of firearms. He slung a military-grade machine gun across his chest and then shoved two handguns in the waistband of his black slacks. Turning toward Ben and I, he shook his head disappointedly and then, reaching into the trunk, came away with two additional guns: an AK-47 for Ben and an M-16 for me.

His phone beeped and he pulled it out. A slight frown pushing his eyebrows together, he said in his heavily accented English. “Her bodyguard is dead and your twin—” he spat, showing exactly what he thought of Jayce “—is inside with 10 men.”

“Ten?” I asked, my pulse racing with dread. Those were terrible odds.

Aleksei nodded briskly. “Hired men,” he confirmed. “No loyalty, but your brother has deep pockets.” He cocked his head to the side and surveyed me dispassionately. “But you pay better so …” he shrugged, as if that’s all there was to his presence here, but we all knew better.

Against all odds, he’d fallen in love with CeeCee which meant he was loyal to the Wilson empire. Or, more specifically, one particular Wilson. And as long as CeeCee wanted her cousin and I protected, Aleksei would be by our side. Of course, I’d sweetened the pot to the tune of half-a-million dollars (plus the additional hundred grand I’d just wired to CeeCee) to make it worth it worth his trouble. I wasn’t an idiot, after all.

That was another difference between Jayce and I. While he’d spent years blowing through cash like it was going out of style, I’d stashed the money from my trust and my share of our company’s profits in an off-shore account for safe keeping. Aleksei’s retainer was a drop in the bucket of the $200 million I had collecting interest in the Caymans, but once I’d come around to Arabella’s idea, I’d admitted it was money well spent. I probably would have doubled it if he’d had the foresight to ask for a higher fee.

Ben broke into our stilted discussion. “The upstairs curtain just twitched. They know we’re here.”

“So much for the element of surprise,” I joked, flicking my eyes between Aleksei and Ben, calculating the likelihood of success, which admittedly wasn’t high.

“Okay then,” I said, turning to study the house. From the street it looked perfectly normal, not at all like a mad man was holed up inside ready to wage war.

“Ten to three.” I blew out a long breath, the weight of what I was about to face landing heavy on my shoulders. “Our chances aren’t great, but I’ve seen worse.”

Aleksei pulled out his phone and started running his thumb over the keypad. Ben cocked his eyebrow at me as if to ask, “What the fuck?” but I just shrugged. Who knew what went on in the tatted Russian’s fucked up head?

“Three hundred thousand and it’s six men only,” he said after a handful of seconds, his eyes never leaving the screen of his phone.

Next to me, Ben bristled. “What?”

I knew he thought we were being played, but something about the casual way Aleksei presented the offer and how he hadn’t looked up to gauge my reaction told me the man didn’t care one way or the other how I responded.

“What does five hundred g’s buy me?” I asked, which finally made him look up from his phone, a wicked smile on his brutal face.

“CeeCee told me you weren’t a stupid man,” he answered as his thumb skated over the virtual keys. A few seconds later, he added, “Five hundred thousand and five of mercenaries walk out the door, get in their cars, and forget they ever knew your brother’s name.”

His eyes found mine, and they flashed with something I thought might have been disgust. “I told you, no loyalty.”

“Done,” I confirmed, adrenaline rushing through me at the thought of evening the odds.

He typed a few more words into his phone and then shoved it into the inner pocket of his black sport coat. Aleksei might be a crazy motherfucker, but he had style, I’d give him that.

Still suspicious, Ben glanced at the Russian with distaste written across his face. “Awfully convenient you know the bastards inside,” he seethed.

“A cousin,” he shrugged. “When he saw me with you, he turned. Convinced the others he could get them a better payday.”

“A cousin?” Ben asked, his voice dark. “You motherfucker,” he growled, stepping toward Aleksei.

Aleksei didn’t looked fazed one bit. He didn’t falter or flinch or give any indication that he was at all worried about a man like Ben stepping into his space. “My mother’s youngest brother’s youngest son,” he explained, as if his family tree give us some hidden insight into what was going on. “He is not, as you say, a beloved son.” He shrugged. “As I said, no loyalty.” He spit again.

“He must have some loyalty,” Ben observed, “for him to give you a heads up.”

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