Page 51 of No Promises, No Lies

Niko’s gone back to his apartment in the city, and my father has his own wing on the opposite side of the mansion. While there are always soldiers on guard duty at the house, it’s lighter than it should be. At this hour, there are probably only one to two guys on duty. And they usually stay outside.

My father’s ego might be the death of us one day. Niko’s been on him for months to beef up security at the mansion, but Adrik refuses. So sure no one would dare strike him here, arrogant iswhat it is. The Irish shot up Elements only two weeks ago and blew up a couple more warehouses full of inventory.

This isn’t the first time I’ve snuck out for early ice. Sometimes a girl needs to leave her house alone without the escort of a six-foot-tall armed Russian. Having every move of mine watched and reported on is incredibly draining. And I can’t say I don’t get a little thrill whenever I steal a chance to be on my own. Free to do what I want, where I want. It’s a silly little novelty, but I live for these moments.

I‘m careful to stay far away from the back end of the house. Since Sasha is watching the front, whoever else is on duty should—in theory—be out back.

I clear the house without incident, slipping out the side door, conveniently out of range of view from the guardhouse down by the road. Creeping forward, I’m careful to stick to the shadows looming from the high walled fencing on the property, keeping my eye on the guardhouse.

Sasha’s head is bent over, the bluish glow of a screen lights up the little room. I wait, checking my watch and digging the toe of my sneaker nervously into the deep gravel, all while scanning the nearby area for any threats.Sasha should be taking his bathroom break any minute now…I’m dressed all in black. The hood of my sweatshirt pulled up to cover my light hair. It would be next to impossible to spot me where I’m hidden, if you weren’t trying.

Just as I worry Sasha’s bladder schedule has changed, he rises with a loud hacking cough.Yeah, years of smoking will do that to you.He steps out, suit unkempt, tie hanging round his neck, and shuffles out of the gatehouse toward the garage housing my father’s fleet of fine vehicles, as well as the guard’s office. The desperate moaning and squeals from the porn he’s clearly in the middle of watching fades away with him.

I make myself wait for another entire minute after Sasha closes the door behind him before making a mad dash for the gate. Until I make it outside of the compound, I’m exposed. So the faster I am, the better. The gravel crunches softly under my sneakers, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I hit the wrought-iron fence. Off to the side is a pedestrian gate, so I don’t need to draw any attention by hitting the button for the main gate.

In seconds, I’m through. I meet my Uber a couple of blocks over, far out of sight from the house.

Sneaking out is definitely easier thansneaking back in,but that’s a Future Rory problem.

Until then, the ice awaits.

31

MY PROBLEM

AIDAN

Alex is expected to make a full recovery. But it doesn’t change the fact the Russians fucked him up. Multiple broken ribs, a swollen eye, and a few broken fingers are the worst of it. The rest of him is just bruised up real good.

He got lucky.

Reallucky.

He’s staying with us at the loft until he recovers and it is super important he lies low. The Russians don’t easily forgive and they’re not ones to let traitors live. If we didn’t have the Pakhan’s own daughter to trade, Alex would never have survived.

Aurora Kostalova.

Rory.

The little lost princess hasn’t shown up to the rink all week for practice. Not that I’m looking... but the terrifying Russian lady she trains with was quite loud yesterday when Rory missed practice yet again. Her private session is right before the Breakers’ afternoon practice. Several times a week…

I can’t complain, Rory not showing up means extra ice for the Breakers. And the more ice time, the better.

Which is why I’m at the rink again at the ass crack of dawn. I haven’t been sleeping well and getting a little extra puck time is better than staring up at my ceiling for another couple of hours.

As soon as I enter the rink, I realize someone’s already beaten me to it. The main lights are off, and shadows cover half of the arena. But loud music echoes through the large space: angry rock guitar sounds and heavy drums. I recognize the band, Collateral Damage.

I expect to see one of my teammates, perhaps having had the same idea as me, but instead, a single skater tears up the ice, drawing my interest. This type of music isn’t the kind you’d normally hear the figure skaters prancing around to.

I move closer, so I’m lingering halfway out of the tunnel, still mostly out of sight. I’ve yet to see her face, but I don’t need to because I already know…

It’sher.

Rory’s movements are sharp and she’s skating with a fierce determination, matching the aggressive beat of the music. Even as I descend the steps to the arena, she doesn’t notice. Too lost in the music and her routine or whatever it is she’s working on.

Her jumps are explosive, defying gravity as she rotates at breakneck speed high above the ice. I watch transfixed as she launches into a series of spins, changing levels and increasing speed so fast I don’t know how they don’t make her sick. Especially given the little migraine condition she has.

She’s dressed more casually today, but still hot as sin. All in black. Tight high waisted leggings cling to her hips and a black sports bra that criss-crosses across her spine, revealing most of her back and a sliver of her toned stomach.

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