Page 245 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

The smile drops from his face and he narrows his eyes at me. “How about you tell me what you’re really doing here?”

“I just did.”

“Is that right?”

I suppress a sigh, getting impatient as fuck with this roundabout line of questioning. “I just told you it is.”

“Then answer me this,” the leader continues. “Why would some passing tourist go up to Guillermo’s farm and purchase firearms if he was just here to—what was it you said?—take in some mountain air?”

Fucking Guillermo. I knew that fat bastard was shady as hell. He sold me out to local muscle for a cheap little payday.

“Need a gun to kill deer,” I say. But it’s a lame excuse and we both know it.

The tension in the air ratchets up another notch.

He spits on the ground between us. “There’s something fishy about you.”

“Me?” I say innocently. “I’m just your average guy who likes to hunt. That’s all.”

“Not many ‘average guys’ come up against four armed men and appear so cool about it,” he points out.

Before I can stop the words from escaping, I snap, “I wouldn’t be so cool if there was anything to be scared of here.”

That’s probably stupid of me, but this motherfucker is pissing me off.

The moment the words leave my mouth, I feel the atmosphere around me change for the worse.

All four men kind of straighten up, as though I made some kind of threat against them. Which I suppose is not wrong.

Maybe they’re not all as stupid as they look.

“Oh, yeah?” the leader says, raising his gun for the first time and waggling it towards me. “This doesn’t scare you?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got one of those too,” I say. “Not that size matters, but mine’s bigger.”

“You’re outnumbered, pendejo,” he hisses.

He’s standing there, practically begging me to be scared of him. The fact that I’m not playing into his hands is pissing him off.

I enjoy it more than I should.

I growl, “Not the way I see it.”

The leader’s eyes widen a little. I can see his confidence start to waver.

It’s always a confronting moment when you’re faced with someone who refuses to be rattled.

I’ve been there before, a long time ago, when I was an inexperienced pup trying to learn the ropes. Half of it is power and skill. The other half is all mind games.

Right now, I have the upper hand in both.

“You think you can take us all on?” he asks.

My fists twitch, an old habit that resurfaces the moment my old world catches up to me.

Break first. Ask questions later.

Then my thoughts turn to Esme.

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