Page 105 of The Payback

I dissolve into laughter, becoming delirious from the early hour and the incessant video rewatching. However, talking with Olivia always brings me back to myself when I get overwhelmed.

“I miss you,” I say. “I wish you were here. Not involved in all of this idiocy, but God, I’m gonna hug you so hard when I get back.”

“And I will wait with open arms,” she says. “Now, send me the details of the gala. I’m going to get you some help with that.”

“No, Olivia, I can’t involve anyone else,” I say firmly. “I’ve apprised the agencies of what’s happening, and they’ll be at the party. With so many people congregating, they can’t afford not to make a move. The evidence I’ve gathered with the help of Dimitri and Nik is speeding things up. Hell, the collection of the girls from the containers is enough to take down most of the key players, but we want to ensure that we get everyone involved in this, with evidence.”

Come to think of Nik, I’m not even sure he’s home now. He went to handle another one of the former buyers, not that I’m telling the agency that. Anyone who buys girls to use at their pleasure deserves whatever justice Nik doles out.

“First of all,” Olivia says with no small measure of offence, “when I send you an assist, you should know by now thatyouwill not see them unless they want you to see them. The Bratva members will not see them. Your agents will not see them. While everyone is focused on the big bad fishies they’re about to catch, no one will look out for you. And I intend to have an unbiased party standing by to get you out if things go to shit because, I swear to God, if you die on this assignment and leave me, I will find you, and I will bring you back, and it will not. Be. Pleasant,” she grits out the last words, overenunciating each one.

“I swear I’ll be fine, and on your head be it if an agent picks up whoever you send to help me. I can’t guarantee that they’ll be safe. If they’re at the party, they’re fair game.”

“Deal. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Now crawl your ass back into bed, ride your husband’s dick, and get some shuteye. It’s late or early, depending on your optimism,” she says, then hangs up the phone.

I look down as it returns to my home screen. Why isn’t all of this lining up? It would be stupid to hope for something easy for once, but that’s not how life goes.

I send a follow-up text to Olivia listing the name of the restaurant and the time and date of the drive-by to the best of my recollection. It might not be the exact minute, but she’ll find it—it’s not like she could miss the action if she hacks the cameras. I mean, there were quite a few bullets. I power down the phone, stick it in my bag, and head towards the bedroom.

I crawl into bed, and Dimitri reaches out, wraps me in his arms, and pulls me closer. I snuggle my face against his chest, and he exhales, settling against his pillow, and murmurs, “Love you, Eleanor.”

I stop breathing, only slightly lifting my head to look at him. He’s still asleep, and he seems so relaxed. Instead of the constant furrow on his brow, it’s smooth. He looks younger, like the weight of the world isn’t on his shoulders.

He slipped out of bed a few nights this past week when he was restless, and when he came back, he was carrying the faint whiff of paint. He returns with a renewed sense of calm, wrapping me up like he does tonight, and always falls into a deep sleep.

I’ve slept in Nik’s bed a couple of nights, talking late into the morning when he’s not out dealing with those sick assholes who bought the girls. We’ve fucked, made love, and just held each other, each of those nights becoming my new favourite with him, no matter what we do.

Turning my face towards Dimitri, I kiss his pec before I lay my head on it again, listening to his heartbeat through his ribs. Tendrils of affection and love unfurl in my chest, and while I won’t say the words to him while he’s passed out, I feel them. I feel them in my soul—for both of them.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE

Dimitri

Eleanor flopsdown on the couch beside me, a groan on her lips and tension stacked on her shoulders.

She’s been with Oksana for the last three days to prepare for the gala, and when she’s not there, she’s here, researching the guest list and comparing notes with me, Nik, and the agents she’s in contact with. She looks exhausted and unhappy, and it puts me on edge.

I reach over to her, placing my hand on her nape and using my thumb to massage the side. “That’s it, my Sabre. Relax.”

She moans, dropping her head forward and letting me tend to her the best way I know how right now.

As she exhales, her shoulders sag, and I move her so she’s facing away from me. I run both hands over her back, working out the knots bunched there.

“That feels so damn good,” she breathes when I work out a particularly reluctant spot.

“Are you okay? We can cancel this whole thing. I know I haven’t been much help.”

“Don’t say that,” she chastises. “You went over the entire guest list with me twice, explaining their ties to the organisation and giving me more information than Interpol.Then,when I was panicking about a dress, you made me describe my ideal one, and you had it made! Who does that?”

She throws her hands in the air, and I laugh.

“Uh, practical men?”

Eleanor peeks over her shoulder at me. “Not true. That was above and beyond, and you know it. And thank you. Again.”

“Hey, if my girl wants a dress to hide the holsters and the cameras, that’s exactly what she’ll get.” I gently squeeze her shoulders, and she sinks into my touch, leaning against my chest as we take in the New York skyline.

“How are you doing?” Eleanor mumbles, the exhaustion finally beginning to pull her under. She keeps fighting the need to rest. She’s barely slept lately, and despite doing everything I can to encourage her to get some decent shuteye—short of wrapping her in a blanket burrito and sitting on her to keep her down.

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