Page 32 of The Primary Pest
“Glad it’s normal for you, but—”
“Hey. I didn’t say—”
“Give me my phone back.” She held her hand out. “I’ll call JT, and you can just leave.”
“Perfect.” Dmytro handed it over and motioned for Ajax to come.
“Sorry, boys. I’m not leaving this motel until someone arrives to look out for Muse.” He had to be stubborn here since no one else seemed to care.
“Ajax, don’t be an idiot.” Dmytro blew like a bull. “You—”
“Calm yourself, Dmytro,” Bartosz soothed before turning to Ajax. “He’s right. This is outrageous. We’re here to protect you.You must listen to us. Come with us or we’ll drag you out of here.”
“Not. Happening.” He held his hand up. “Wait,this is myCasablancamoment. If you touch me, I’ll have you fired. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your lives.”
Dmytro’s pale face darkened. “You are the most exasperating—”
“You’re no serenity garden yourself,Mitya,” he fired back.
Dmytro and Bartosz argued between themselves again. Whatever the language, their meaning was clear. Their mission was in trouble, and they had differing opinions on how to save it. Dmytro looked like he wanted to kill Ajax and save his stalker the trouble. Bartosz seemed to be arguing in favor of reason.
“I love when they do that,” Ajax confided in Muse.
If he were honest with himself, he was in denial about the threat to his safety. People got threatening letters all the time. He didn’t want to believe anything was going to happen to him. So what if someone hacked the cameras in his house? So what if they had escalated from a mildly judgy tone to a brutal, frightening set of threats? Everybody on the internet got death threats. Everybody. If you didn’t, you might as well not exist.
He’d wanted to get out of town and regroup on the off chance there really was someone following him, so he let his mother hire Iphicles.
That’s why he’d gone along so meekly—for him. But people—girls—getting hit over the head? Leaving them to fend for themselves even though they were possibly still in danger? That crossed the line.
“See sense,” Dmytro tried. “The girl is fine.”
“Not going.” Ajax had perfectedspoiled bratin Montessori school, not that he was one. What mattered most couldn’t be bought, even for his billions, so he wasn’t spoiled per se. Buthe knew how to act like he could buy whatever and whoever he wanted. He knew how to live up to these men’s worst expectations.
Dmytro sighed. “All right. You win. We wait until Muse has someone to take her to the ER. But not in this fishbowl. You stay hidden. Then we leave after they go.”
Bartosz pocketed Muse’s keys. He practically dared Ajax to say something. Ajax gave an imperceptible shrug in return. He’d won the battle he cared about. He wasn’t a saint, and material things didn’t mean as much to him as people did. If they had to take her car to get to safety, his parents would compensate her.
“You know what?” Muse glanced between the three of them and nodded approvingly. “It’s super cool that you have two dads.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dmytro
Ajax Fairchild,you are filth. I will wash you clean with your own blood and bathe myself in the sweet liquor from your corpse.
“I am not”—Dmytrojabbed a finger Ajax’s way—“his father.”
“Oh hell no.” Ajax’s daddy issues over Dmytro came from another place entirely—an unseemly, unwholesome place he’d like to explore with Dmytro at great length sometime now that he’d forgiven him for being a dick about Muse. “He’s really not.”
Bartosz only laughed and stepped behind the counter again. “I’ll pick the office lock while you explain to the girl why it might be very unwise for her to let anyone know we’re here.”
She said, “I am a woman, not a girl.”
“Are you related to our client, by any chance?” Dmytro shot a glance her way.
“Make your call,” Ajax urged Muse quietly. “I don’t know what those two will do if we keep them waiting too long.”
She did as he asked and told whoever answered that she needed them to personally come check something out. Smart girl. Whoever it was agreed without hitting the panic button as far as he could tell from their conversation.
