Page 63 of Ten

The big windows at the front of the salon were easy targets for vandalism. A brick had been thrown through the window, bouncing off the gray oak floor and taking a chunk out of the wood. Glass shattered, sending shards into the lobby. The security alarms were triggered and the countdown to HFD and the police showing up began.

Cheap liquor bottles filled with a poor man’s version of napalm had been thrown into the building. Soap, gasoline, Styrofoam, motor oil, and a tampon for the wick. The bottles shattered, splattering the thick, flammable liquid. The flaming tampon ignited the mess.

Kostya rose slowly, his gaze following the scorched trails across the floor and up the walls, over the furniture in the lobby to the stacks of ruined magazines. The fire suppression system had done a good job of keeping the flames from growing into a full conflagration.

All of the fire damage was confined to the lobby, but the smoke and water damage from the firehoses was extensive.

Holly had put on a brave face when she walked through the ruined lobby earlier. She was being strong for her employees. First, Nisha was threatened by the escape of her lunatic husband. Then, Savannah was shot. Now this attack on their business.

It was too much, but she bore it without complaint. She had a smile and comforting hug for her weepy stylists and support staff. Billie, for all her faults—and Kostya had a list a mile long for that girl—, hadn’t shown a flicker of panic or sadness.

She was waiting at the front door even before Holly arrived and immediately got to work after the fire marshal and arson investigator finished with the scene. She presented Holly with a list of services that specialized in fire damage and pulled the salon’s insurance policies from the cloud so Holly wouldn’t have to dig around for them.

Now, she was on the phone, calling each and every client to explain the situation and offer alternatives for their services. Holly had been offered space at various salons around the city. The Allure stylists would operate out of those other salon booths until this place was back up and running.

With Billie at her side, Holly would have no problem working out the logistics. Savannah, the business manager of the salon, would be out for a very long time.

If she lived.

He didn’t like thinking that way, but there were so many things that could go wrong. Infection, blood clots, catching COVID or the flu, or some other respiratory virus while she tried to recover. It could go bad in a heartbeat.

Which explained why he had received a call from Gabe late last night.

Kostya wasn’t quite sure what the score was between Savannah and the hitman. From what Holly had told him, there was an instant spark between the two when Gabe rescued them from that abandoned warehouse in Mexico.

Apparently, he had kept in touch with Savannah through texts. After Holly told him that Nisha had mentioned Savannah wanting Gabe as she lay bleeding on the ground, Kostya tried to reach out to Gabe.

But the calls and messages had never been answered. Kostya realized later it was because Gabe had ditched his usual means of communication before sneaking across the border. Technically, he was still a wanted man in the US. Holly’s mother had been working with her contacts to free him of the warrant and charges, but it would take time. These types of things always did.

Not that Gabe was going to let that stop him from seeing Savannah. Kostya only hoped he would be smart about it and not get himself in real trouble. Spread thin by all the recent bullshit, Kostya had very few resources left for Gabe.

One of the ruined shelves finally gave way and crashed to the floor, taking bottles of destroyed shampoo. conditioner, and hair products with it. He didn’t even want to think about how many hundreds of dollars of inventory that was. Dollar signs flashed before him everywhere he looked, and all of it came out of Holly’s pocket.

With insurance payouts, the business would survive. He wasn’t so sure about the assholes who had dared to attack his woman’s place of business.

“Don’t even think about it,” Holly said as if reading the dark thoughts shadowing his mind. She had appeared from somewhere behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. No one ever touched him the way she did, freely and without hesitation. She leaned her cheek against his chest, and he embraced her right back. “No one died, Kostya. Everything can be replaced.”

“It’s the principle of the matter.” He tenderly kissed the top of her head and then her temple. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“So you said about twenty-seven different times since we got the call about the fire,” she replied and nuzzled into him. “It’s not your fault.” She lifted her head long enough to meet his gaze. “It’s not Nisha’s either.”

He frowned down at her. “When did I say it was?”

“You didn’t, but I can see the wheels turning in your head.”

“The wheels in my head might be rusty, but they don’t assign blame to innocent women.” He hated that Nisha couldn’t catch a break. Ten choosing to get involved with her was a point of contention he had abandoned. If Ten wanted her, he was going to have her, and no one would be able to stop him.

“Are you any closer to finding that asshole she was married to?” Holly asked quietly.

“Why does that feel like a judgment on my tracking skills?” He was pretending to be affronted, but deep down inside, he was worried about his inability to find Kiki. It shouldn’t have been this difficult. Kiki was a killer, but he was also a fucking idiot. There was no way Kiki had been able to escape and evade law enforcement without help from someone with the sort of skills Kostya usually provided.

“You’re still my favorite spy-turned-mafia-fixer,” she assured him with a kiss to his jaw. “Even if you are moving a bit slower these days.”

“Slower?” He scowled down at her. “What are you saying?”

“Listen, we all get older and lose some of our stamina.”

“Stamina?” He noticed the gleam in her eye and finally realized what game she was playing. After all the stress of the last few days, she desperately needed to blow off some steam. Locking her office door, bending her over her soaking wet desk, and fucking her like a rutting beast would be a good way to accomplish that.

---