Page 52 of Like Grim Death: Part One
I clear my throat. “Lately. Have you felt like someone is following you? Have you seen anyone weird recently, hanging around where they shouldn’t? Besides the obvious, with RC?”
Cain is quiet. I expect him to dismiss my question, to tell me to shut the fuck up and go upstairs and sleep.
Instead, he says, “At the gym tonight. Mikhail came by.” He speaks all of this with indifference, but I listen closely. He wouldn’t be saying it if it didn’t mean something. “He had his fucking hood on, but I could see him.”
This was right before he tied me up to a chair to fuck with my head.
“My dad was there, and they talked in an office.”
You and your dad seem to be spending a lot of time at the fucking gym.But maybe Callum Bonavich is using it as his meeting place. I wouldn’t be surprised. He used to be a professional fighter in between the work he did for the 6.
“Was this before or after you let your orange-haired childhood friend clock you again?”
He narrows his eyes. “She wasn’t there tonight. And let that go, Mav. I’m not talking about her.”
I decide to drop it. “What did they discuss? Your dad and Mikhail?” The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I was really hoping I was just imagining all of this shit. I guess it doesn’t prove someone else was lurking on our street, but it stacks up a little evidence in the form of Mikhail Malikov is a sneaky fuck.
Cain is quiet a second. He always chooses his words carefully, or maybe he just doesn’t like to waste them. Then he sighs, shifting on the couch, his fingers grazing my shoulder for a second. “Dad wouldn’t say. And after their talk, Boaz just watched us.”
I sit up straighter too, turning to glare at him. “He watched you.” I echo the words back, frowning.
Cain’s dark eyes are still on the ceiling, and he purses his lips a second, shrugging. “Watched me almost kill London Hamilton.”
Fucking London Hamilton. Football star of Alexandria U back when he thought that shit mattered. “Lucifer would’ve loved that.” London made the mistake of flirting with Sid at Liber a while ago, and Lucifer almost killed them both for it. It’s why we keep him around, in case he ever needs to die. He knows a few of our secrets.
Cain snorts. “Lucifer has to learn he can’t murder everyone who has ever laid eyes on Sid.” He glances at me, and his dark irises seem to spark in the darkness of the living room as his lips tip up into a sly smile. “Or else he’d have to kill both of us too.”
Warmth flushes through me, and again, I think of Sid at Ignis. Her pretty fucking smart mouth. I chew the inside of my cheek, shaking my head. “Then what?” I press, trying to focus.“Boazjust…what? Left?”
Cain leans back against the couch again and his eyes flutter closed. “Nah.” He exhales, and I know he’s going to sleep soon, no matter what I do or don’t want to talk about. “A girl walked in. Same one that was with him before.”
“Do they seem to be together or—”
“If they hadn’t, I would’ve tried to fuck her.”
Of course you would.Maybe he doesn’t have girl problems after all.
“He acted like she was his property. Didn’t touch her but made sure she followed him around the ring. She kept her head up, that hood on, but I could see enough.”
Acting like she was his property doesn’t mean shit. It’s what the 6 does.Own people.Including all of us.
“Who do you think the chick is?” I stare at the high ceilings, seeing remnants of smoke curling up and up and up.
Cain lifts one shoulder in a shrug, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “An escort from Moscow, maybe. Lucifer better be looking over his shoulder, turning down the boss like that.” He sighs. “Shit, we backed him, and I’d do it again in a fucking heartbeat, but if you’re thinking someone is alwayswatching you,if you’re being dragged from the street and I’ve gotta babysit Ella,we need to keep our guard up.”
I almost laugh out loud. I want to tell him about what went down tonight, but I’m not putting my girl in jeopardy. And unsurprisingly, he doesn’t push me to divulge it.
“I’m serious, Mav. You know Lazar was as wicked as he could be because he had the backing of the highest order.” Cain speaks quietly, and I’m mildly impressed with all of his knowledge. “Mikhail Malikov doesn’t fucking play.”
Yeah. Neither the fuck do I.
* * *
I wake to the sound of a clatter in the kitchen. It’s really fucking loud, and I shoot up from the couch, straight to my feet, my head spinning and back aching with the sudden movement, my eyes feeling heavy.
Glancing at Cain, I see his forearm is slung over his eyes, and based on the steady rise and fall of his chest, I don’t think he’s awake.
I take a breath, orienting myself. The sun is vivid and bright, streaming in through the blinds, and when I look toward the nook in the kitchen, I see those blinds are open too. A nice, fall day. I kind of hate it.
