Page 40 of Alexei (Belles & Mobsters 4)

“Kingston,” I whispered, my mind still in the past.

Alexei’s eyes, those freakish pale glaciers, lifted and connected with mine. No, they couldn’t be the same eyes. There was no pain and sorrow in his blue eyes. Only an unhinged expression. Psychotic didn’t even begin to describe this man.

My eyes fleeted to the man with the smashed face. His nose was bloody, likely broken. I was sure tomorrow his entire face would be black and blue. I glanced at my brother who seemed unperturbed, then to the table with Alexei’s friends and family. The men sat back, watching the entire scene with a bored expression on their faces. The women whispered among themselves, then glanced outside every so often. Not a single child in that group cried. In fact, I swore they seemed bored with the whole thing too.

The man who had the unfortunate idea to touch my ass stumbled to his feet and ran out of the restaurant. Alexei’s eyes followed him and I got the strangest feeling he’d hunt him down. Call it my sixth sense.

Taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I focused on my brother. This had to be a nightmare. A freaking horror movie.

“Byron. Outside. Now.” My voice sounded amazingly calm compared to my frazzled emotions.

This time Byron moved, though casually, and followed right behind me. My nerves teetered on the edge. It felt like every single pair of eyes in the restaurant was on me as I exited. It was ridiculous, of course. They were probably staring at the lunatic back there who'd remained in the restaurant. Freaking psychotic caveman among civilized people.

Why in the hell did nobody call the cops?Not a single staff member moved, I realized.

“Who owns this place?” I asked out of the blue, the second we stepped outside.

“How in the fuck should I know, Rora?” I hated and loved when he called me by that nickname. Byron was the only person in the entire world that called me Rora. Well, aside from the brother that was no longer here.

Inhaling deeply, I glared at him, trying to rein in my temper. And failing.

“What the fuck, Brother?” I snapped.

ChapterEleven

ALEXEI

Isat back in my spot. I didn’t need to look up to notice Vasili’s knowing smirk. Nico’s cocked eyebrow. Bella’s concerned frown. Sasha’s stupid grin.

I didn’t bother saying anything. I didn’t care for pointless social gatherings. I hung out with my niece and nephew frequently. But not in social settings. I didn’t need chitchat, even if it was with people I cared about.

“Well that escalated quickly,” Sasha announced, breaking the silence that not even the little ones dared to interrupt. “I bet it was the only reason Alexei agreed to join us. His stalkerish ass knew our little FBI agent would have lunch here.”

One of these days, I’d punch Sasha so hard, he wouldn’t be able to talk for days. And the moment he started getting better, I’d punch him again. It would be the equivalent of a normal person’s vacation not to hear his fucking mouth for a week straight.

“Vasili owns the bar,” Bella immediately came to my defense. Not that I needed defending. “We always come here to eat.”

Except I usually didn’t bother joining them. Sasha’s assumption was right. It was the only reason I came. I did my quota for socializing yesterday with dinner. And the night before with Vasili and Sasha. Fuck, it was more than my quota for the quarter.

“What the fuck, Brother?” Agent Ashford’s voice traveled through the cracked window. She sounded pissed, though somehow, she managed to keep her voice soft. I wondered if she ever screamed.

Not that I cared much, I lied to myself.

“Be specific, Rora.” Byron Ashford’s voice was cool and I had to admit, it surprised me he wasn’t more uptight. And his friendship with Nico and Raphael told me there was more to him than meets the eye.

“First, goddamn you. I cannot sit and have lunch with criminals.” If she moved just slightly, we’d be able to see her through the large window, but then she’d probably see that it was cracked open. “It would ruin my career.”

“Don’t exaggerate. Just because you eat with them, doesn’t meanyouare a criminal.”

“You know very well appearances are everything,” she hissed. “And secondly, tell me you are not schmoozing with the Morrellis. Or those criminals down in Florida. Father did enough of selling us out, and his soul for politics. Tell me you won’t do whathedid.”

The comment was odd, but not off the mark. It was her father who brought Ivan to their doorstep. If he wouldn’t have been so power hungry, the Ashford family would have never come to Ivan’s attention.

It didn’t escape me that everyone at the table was shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation too.

“Schmoozing?” I’d have to agree with her brother. It was an odd word to use when describing dealings with us. “I don’t schmooze. And you didn’t mind the criminal when you broke into his house.”

“First of all, I was drunk. Just turned eighteen. You’ve done worse.”

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