Page 26 of The Primary Pest
Ajax laughed. “Which are you? Heaven or earth?”
The teasing tone caught Dmytro by the balls, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let his interest show. “Behave.”
“Okay, they probably don’t hate me.” Ajax fluffed his pillow and put his head back down, still not facing him. “But they’re ultradisappointed, which is far worse. They’re stoically bearing the weight of that disappointment for my sake. They’re ashamed to face their friends.”
“Then they have bad friends. You can earn back their respect.” This, he knew. Even after all the things Anton did and said before he left, Dmytro had loved the man he’d become. “Nothing is forever but death.”
“So I’d better stay alive, huh?”
Melancholy Ajax was unbearable. Dmytro much preferred outraged Ajax. “If you can manage it.”
Finally Ajax turned to face him. The grin surprised him. Warmed him. “I’ll do my bit, but it’s going to be way worse for you than me if I get killed.”
“I doubt it.”
“Have you read my mother’s CV? You don’t get where she is by allowing incompetence.” Ajax let his head drop back on the pillow just as the tap on the door signaled Bartosz had returned. Dmytro let him in.
“Hey, Bartosz,” said Ajax.
“Cold out there.” Bartosz shrugged off his coat. “Hello. Did you sleep?”
“No.” He filled Bartosz in on everything he’d missed. “Anything?”
“Nothing.” Bartosz stepped into the bathroom to wash his hands and splash water on his face before answering. He returned, toweling off. He kept his voice low. “The girl in the office was dancing with her headphones on, last I saw, but otherwise it’s quiet out there. What have you heard from Zhenya?”
“Everything seems legitimately coincidental as far as he can tell.”
“But you’re not convinced?” Bartosz asked.
“We’ll see.” He shrugged.
“Keep your eyes open, brother.”
Dmytro glanced back and caught a vulnerable expression on Ajax’s face, though he hid it quickly. The doubt had been visible and authentic all the same.
“Don’t worry. Next to me, Bartosz is the very best protection money can buy.”
When that didn’t seem to reassure Ajax, he put it down to the fact Ajax was receiving credible death threats on a daily basis. It was hard to find reassurance when that happened. He hesitated, wondering what else he could say.
“Are you a hen now? Go.” Bartosz gave him a shove. “I’ll take care of the egg.”
Ajax submerged himself beneath the waves of his covers and pulled his pillow over his head.
“Not as bad as he seemed at first.” Dmytro spoke only for Bartosz’s ears.
“You like children.” Bartosz switched languages. “You’ll be cured as soon as he throws a tantrum.”
Dmytro stepped out. He breathed deeply. The damp ocean air felt marvelous on his skin. He was… uneasy. He’d missed his daily meditation goals. Perhaps it was only that. He normally took some quiet time in the morning and evening to regroup. Together with keeping his body healthy through exercise and good nutrition, meditation kept him emotionally balanced, despite the things he saw—or did—on the job.
Only recently, on a security detail in Canada, the principal had come under attack from her bat-wielding maniac of an ex. The bastard had gotten a lucky shot to Dmytro’s head. Thank God Bartosz had been there that time to disarm the fucker, but the hit had been brutal. That job ended with the client safe, her husband in jail, and him in the hospital.
He stayed in the shadows as he silently stepped along the gallery, despite the hollow deck beneath his feet. He made his way down concrete steps and out to the parking lot to look around.
He didn’t like not having a car, even for the brief time it would take Zhenya to send another. He didn’t like the indefensible motel room or their too-smart-for-his-own-good client.
He was getting tired of Bartosz’s teasing.
Dmytro was anunlikelymercenary but not an inept one. But for his birth order and his longing to take after his brother Anton—and not his father—after his mother died, he’d have chosena different path for himself entirely. Construction, maybe. Or if he’d been allowed to choose a fine art, then photography.
