Page 33 of No Promises, No Lies

“Oh—um—here I guess.” I stumble over my words, nerves on edge. “Boston,” I clarify. “But I grew up in Canada. I only recently moved back to the city.” I take another bite of stew to stop myself from rambling on.

“And what brings you back to Boston?” Koen’s rough voice startles me, having not heard it before. It’s deep, with a slight Irish lilt to it. Like Aidan’s, but stronger. For the moment, he’s stowed away his death glare, now eyeing me with cold curiosity. He takes another bite of his own stew while awaiting my answer.

“Skating,” I can say without hesitation. “To skate with Karina Valgova.” I look at Aidan, finding him watching me, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You skate absolutely beautifully!” Reagan exclaims from across from me.

My look of confusion prompts her to explain.

“Liam showed me some videos of your routines and, oh-my-God, you’re talented. Likereallytalented,” she gushes, beaming at me, meaning every word she says.

“Thank you.” I choke out. Uncertain how I feel knowing Liam, and likely Aidan too, have been watching video after video of my competition film for “research.”

“I wish I had learned to skate. I know enough to get by, but it just looks so freeing flying across the ice. Because of these two brutes over here,” she eyes her brothers with contempt as she continues. “I only ever associated skating with hockey; not exactly my cup of tea.” She holds up one hand to the side of her mouth as though she’s telling me a secret. “If you know what I mean.”

It brings a genuine smile to my face and I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “I do. Hockey isn’t really my thing either.”My eyes flash to Aidan’s, and he narrows his gaze.

“So besides skating, what else do you do?” Koen asks, redirecting the conversation back to the interrogation in disguise.“Moonlight in anyclubs?” He arches his brow and chews on his spoon while watching me closely.

I do my best to suppress the wince as I answer him, “Skating is my life. It’s the only thing that matters.” The truth of that statement stings. “If I’m not at the rink, I’m training. If I’m not training, I’m at ballet or at choreography. And other than that, I’m home, alone with my books.”

“—Or at the Chill Zone, the bar upstairs at the Edge,” I add quickly when they just stare at me. “I work there a couple of days a week.”

Koen zeroes in on me, leaning slightly across the table. “Hard to believe, a pretty girl like you. No friends? A boyfriend, perhaps?” I don’t miss how Aidan’s spoon stills at the mention of a boyfriend.Drawing his spoon slowly out of his mouth but not looking at me.

I shake my head, forcing myself not to break eye contact with Koen. His eyes are green like Aidan and Reagan’s, but darker. Almost as if someone blended green with black. “No friends. No boyfriend.”I refuse to blink.

Reagan gasps at my admission. “Nofriends?”

I drop my eyes to my bowl, pushing the vegetables around. “No time.”I shrug.Too dangerous,I correct in my head.

“Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we? Once this business with my brothers is sorted out, you and I, we’re getting drinks.”

I look up at Reagan O’Rourke with shock. Could my salvation come from the youngest of the O’Rourke clan? A petite redhead grinning at me from across the table?

“I’d love that.” My voice is quieter than it should be. Grabbing hold of my empty glass, I rise. “I’m just going to get some more water.” I’m not sure if I’m allowed to get up, but I do it anyway. Feeling their eyes on me as I make my way over to the sink, and fill up my cup, gulping it down before topping it back off again.

“But you have family in the area, though, right? Seeing as how you were born here…” There’s no missing the snark in Koen’s tone. “Parents? Any siblings?”

I’m saved from answering Koen’s dangerous line of questioning by the arrival of someone new to the loft.

“Hello?” A familiar sounding male voice calls from just outside the kitchen.

“In here!” Aidan calls in response, his eyes on me again.

“Alex!” Reagan squeals, jumping out of her chair to pounce on the male who has made his way into the kitchen. He catches her mid-jump, swinging her around in a tight embrace.

I look on with mild interest until they spin and I glimpse the man’s face.

I freeze.

I’m only mildly aware of the shattering clatter my glass makes when it hits the tile floor, when I lock eyes with one of the last people I’d ever expect to see walk into this house…

Alexei.

21

THE RUSSIAN ANGEL

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