Page 42 of The Last Inch Of Ice
Nazar’s grip tightens on the phone hard enough that the case creaks.
“Send me the address.”
There’s a pause. “Wait, what? You want to come?”
“Yeah. Send me the address.”
“Uh… okay.” Miller sounds confused but not suspicious. “Yeah, sure. Sending it now.”
The line goes dead.
Nazar stares at the address on his screen.
He knows he shouldn’t go. Knows that showing up at Kai’s apartment— semi-drunk or close to it, emotionally compromised, after the way things ended—is not the behavior of a man who has his life under control.
He grabs his keys anyway.
* * *
The building is one of those new luxury developments—that aggressively modern aesthetic that screams “tech money” and “gentrification.” The kind of place with a doorman and a lobby that looks like a hotel.
Exactly what he’d expect from someone who grew up as a Callahan.
The doorman barely glances at him before waving him through. Either because Nazar looks like he belongs or because he’s already been told to expect team guests. The elevator is one of those glass-walled ones that shows you ascending through the building, and Nazar focuses on his reflection instead of the dropping view.
He looks terrible. Hair disheveled. Eyes tired. Still wearing the same clothes he put on this morning, jeans and a hoodie that’s seen better days.
The elevator reaches the fourteenth floor with a soft ding.
Nazar stands outside apartment 1401 for longer than is reasonable. Long enough that his finger hovers over the doorbell three separate times before he actually presses it.
He can hear voices inside. Miller’s unmistakable laugh—too loud, always performing. Sam’s quieter chuckle in response.
The door opens.
Sam stands there, beer in hand, his expression cycling rapidly from surprise to confusion to something like concern.
“Rykov? Didn’t know you were coming.”
“Last-minute thing,” Nazar says, already moving past him into the apartment before Sam can ask follow-up questions.
Miller is sprawled on the couch, Vyachovsky is by the windows examining the view, Armstrong is in the open kitchen area doing something with his phone.
And in the corner, a plush cat bed with a black cat that immediately locks eyes with Nazar and hisses like he’s personally offended by his existence.
Bonifazio.
Kai is standing frozen in the middle of the room, a wine glass in his hand, his expression shifting from surprise to something harder and more guarded in the span of a heartbeat.
Their eyes meet across the room.
For a moment, neither of them moves.
13
Chapter 13 Nazar
Nazar barely has time to process Kai’s clipped greeting before his attention is pulled elsewhere.
