Page 17 of Walking Red Flag

The man finally found the head on his shoulders and left, but not without a last parting shot. “This isn’t over, Semyonov.”

Semyonov smiled and watched as the man left on his bike.

It was only when he was so far in the distance that we couldn’t see him that Semyonov turned to me and said, “I owe you a debt.”

I studied the man for a long second before saying, “You owe me nothing.”

I left after that, getting back on my bike.

The ride through the lake was beautiful, and by the time I arrived home, I felt like I could breathe again.

Only, my mind kept straying back to her, and who the hell she was.

Milena.

Milena Semyonov?

The sad fact was, I’d probably never find out.

I’m at the age where a 22-year-old guy is looking kinda good, but so is his dad.

—Milena’s secret thoughts

MILENA

“Are you sure about this?” my sister, Maven, asked.

I nodded. “Sure, sure. Why?”

“Because usually you have Shasha deal with all of the building process,” she admitted, her smile becoming a bit of a leer.

Maven was right.

Usually, when it came to building anything, I allowed my brother and business partner, Shasha, to have free rein.

But since this was my brainchild, I was going to be the one to meet with the carpenter who would set my dream in motion.

“I need a distraction,” I said. “And Shasha ruins everything.”

At least when it came to finish work.

We’d had three crews quit off our multiple businesses when we were at the end, and the same wouldn’t happen with my coffee shop. I wanted it done to my specifications, and I wanted it done in a timely manner.

If I wanted those two things, that meant that Shasha needed to stay far, far away.

“You want to talk about last night?” she asked.

All of them knew.

They’d all been privy because of Brecken being on the phone with practically the entire family when it’d all gone down.

By the time I’d arrived home, I had a full house, and a lot of explaining to do.

The consensus for the night was that Asher would never be able to come anywhere near me again, or my brothers would kill him.

Literally.

Though Shasha and Dima—who’d been on FaceTime since he was deployed somewhere to parts unknown—hadn’t outright said they were going to kill him if he ever tried to contact me again, I knew them.

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