Chapter 1

“Oh Guuuuuuus,”

Shit, shit, shit. The rumble of my brother’s footsteps gets closer and closer and I’m really not in the mood for their shit right now. I can either take it on the chin or hide. I push my chair out and slide to the floor.

“What are you doing?”

Over the top of my desk, my sister stares back at me. Her eyes large behind her thick-framed glasses.

“Jesus, Dayz! How long have you been there?”

“From when you said shit three times and then slithered to the floor.”

“Who slithered to the floor?” Tav asks, playfully pulling on Tuesday’s messy bun.

“Gus. He was going to hide from you and Jules.”

“Why?”

“Probably because you’re going to bust his balls about Ana.” Shrugging, she takes a seat at the small conference table in my office. It’s where we have our team meetings and where she always sits.

Tav pulls up the chair across from my desk, leaving the other for Jules. Who, speak of the Devil, saunters in just as I heave myself back into my chair. When I first came up with the idea for Tombs Security, there was no question that I would involve my siblings. Now, I regret that decision.

“Ok, say what you have to say and then get back to work. I’ve got shit to do.”

My younger siblings all share a look. Well, Jules and Tav do, then they look toward Tuesday, or Dayz as we call her, who is, per usual, avoiding eye contact. She’s on the spectrum, so we’re used to this behavior. Tav clears his throat. As the easy going sibling, he’s always the one tasked with getting the ball rolling on shitty topics.

“So, you have that meeting with Ana today.”

“Yep.”

“Aaaaand it’s been, what? Two months since you last saw her?”

“It’s been two months and 13 days since Ana came to the Devils Rose MC clubhouse to lockdown with us,” Tuesday butts in.

As if I don’t know how many days it’s been since a short, curvy Kiwi whirlwind crashed into my life. Two and a half months ago, my sister tracked down the guy who murdered our parents. He was stalking a member of the local MC. Long story short, we ended up putting a stop to the skin trade in our part of the state, got rid of a Polish crime lord and somehow became allies with both the local Bratva and the Devils Rose MC. Oh, and my sister became an Ol Lady. In the middle of that messed-up ride, I met Ana. Best friends with the head of the Bratva; his secretary, and the most intriguing woman I’d ever met.

“We caught you holding hands-”

“- and that time we caught them kissing in the hall-”

“-Thank you, Dayz, I forgot about that. So you see Gus, we all thought you had the start of something good with Ana. And then nothing. What happened? Did she ghost you?”

Shaking my head, I take in my siblings. Jules and Tav are both staring at me across my desk. Well, Jules is giving me his RDF, Resting Dick Face. Tav is eagerly waiting to hear that Ana realized she was too good for me or some shit. Tuesday, as usual, is sitting with her laptop open on the table, tapping away whilst listening in.

“No, she didn’t ghost me, dickhead. We just… lost touch.”

Tav’s eyebrow rises. “You…lost touch? Dude, how hard is it to text someone? Shit. There’s no hope for you.” He shakes his head in disgust.

“Look, we all had shit that we had to do after breaking up Kraykowski’s trafficking ring. Ana is just as busy. She has to make sure the Bratva is running smoothly while Roman’s away. We have business to attend to. That’s what happens when you’re an adult.”

“An adult would learn that communicating openly and honestly with each other is the best way forward in a relationship. Trust me,” Dayz says.

I roll my lips between my teeth and notice my brothers are smirking at her statement. Dayz has terrible communication skills, but obviously being with Rhodie is rubbing off on her. I wasn’t sure that the enforcer for the local MC was going to be the best choice for my baby sister, but Rhodie is a pussycat as far as Dayz is concerned. He’s patient and gentle with her and doesn’t seem to have any problem with the fact that she is quite the violent interrogator.

“That is expert advice, Dayz, thank you. Rhodie been teaching you stuff again?”

“Yeah. I got the lecture on communication and consent when I surprised Rhodie by sticking the Dr Joel Power Probe Prostate massager in him without warning.”

Absolute chaos breaks out over that little tidbit as Tav falls to the floor in a coughing fit and I watch Jules lean forward and thump him not so lightly on the back. I raise my voice to be heard over the two of them.

“Dayz, remember when we had that chat about too much information?”

“Of course. We’ve had it numerous times since I was 14. Wait, ok, soz, yup got it. Not something to share with brothers.”

Jules sits back, straightens his shirt, not a hair out of place, and watches Tav finally pull himself back into his chair, looking like absolute shit. His face red, cheeks wet from crying, either from the choking or the beating Jules just gave him.

“Fuck Dayz, too much.” He gasps out.

“Ok brother, so what are you going to do?” Jules asks me, returning to their point.

“Roman wants a complete overhaul of security systems at his country house office. Since Ana is running the show at the moment, my meeting is with her.”

“Aaaaaaand?” Tav prompts, waving his hands in a circular motion to keep me talking.

“And I’m not sure I have time for a relationship. I have this business and you fuckers to keep in line.”

Tav’s hand flies to his chest as he gasps, “What!? We do not need you to keep us in line, August. Last I checked, we are all old enough to take care of ourselves. Us looking out for you on the other hand…” he waves his hand around, obviously hoping for Jules or Dayz to agree with him, but they both sit there with blank looks on their faces.

“You two are shit at backing a brother up,” he snarks out before carrying on. “What we’re trying to say, Gus, is that it’s time you put yourself out there. I mean, you’re a good-looking man now, but once those grays really come in and you get a gut, willing quality women will dry right up.” Tav makes a weird slurping noise to illustrate his point, but all it illustrates is how much I want to punch him in his face. Which looks a hell of a lot like mine, just without the crooked nose from where I broke it playing football.

“Jesus, I’m 38, not 108.”

“Male fertility reduces from around the age of 40, however, it is recommended you procreate before the age of 38. Less mutant sperm that way.” Dayz very helpfully pipes up.

“Did you fall down a fertility hole, sis?” Tav asks, which is a fair question. Tuesday often has questions and then falls down the black hole of research.

“No, Rhodie and I were looking at the best time for us to procreate.” The sound of Dayz’s tapping on her laptop breaks through the silence that’s descended. Jules slowly turns away from our baby sister until he’s staring me in the eye.

“When are we killing him?” He asks in a low voice.

“No one is going to kill Rhodie. Because I love him and he loves me and you all love me and that means that he’s exempt from killing.” She squints up at us, a furrow in her brow, so Tav answers her.

“Yeah, Dayz, you know when you love someone, you don’t want to do things that will upset them.”

“And killing Rhodie will definitely upset me.”

Tav leans forward and whispers to me and Jules, “Pops will kill him.”

I can’t help but agree with that deduction. However, this fleeting talk of Dayz procreating has led my mind to a place where I have a little boy who looks like my brothers but with Ana’s bright green eyes. I shake my head at the thought. No time for that, I have shit that needs doing.

“Right. While you’re all here, interrupting my work day, I need someone on the florist in town, Flora’s Buds. They got broken into recently and want a full system. Jules, I’m sending you.”

He nods and takes the initial contract paperwork I hand him.

“Dayz is working with that new accountant in town, so Tav, you’re on monitoring our current clients for the meantime. All good?” They all nod, but no one seems to leave. Staring at my family, I take a deep breath and hold it for three beats before breathing out.

“Ok, now if you could all kindly see yourselves out so I can go to this consultation with Ana, that would be great.”

“I haven’t eaten since I started working on this job. I need sustenance.” Tuesday speaks into the room, knowing full well her brothers will drop everything to go to lunch with her.

“Come on, Dayz, lunch is on me.” Tav gets up, shoving the expensive, ergonomic guest chair with his foot. I make a note to kick the furniture in his office. I watch as he helps Dayz pack her shit up before he throws his arm over our little sister and they chat about potential food choices. Sitting across from me, Jules is busy giving me the stink eye.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

He stands and stretches. “Nope. Just don’t fuck this up.” And with those words of wisdom, he messes up the pens on my desk and walks out whistling, following after Tav and Tuesday.

I love them, but Jesus they give me a headache. Checking the time, I realize if I don’t move my ass, I’ll be late.

Shit, shit, shit. I have an hour before that handsome, bossy bastard August Tombs walks through my door and I’m not ready to see him yet. I have way too much work to get done. I love my job, but with my boss and best friend off gallivanting around Russia, it’s left me in charge of the Bartashev Bratva. Shaking my head, I will myself not to snort at the absurdity of it all. I’m a 5’3, chonky woman from New Zealand. Only in Roman’s world would it make sense to choose me to keep the Bratva ticking over in his absence.

“Miss? Ivan and Jenn are here to see you.”

“Thanks, Igor, and please, I’ve been here for like five years. Can you call me Ana?”

“Of course, miss,” I squint at him as he backs out of the doorway with a wry smile on his face. He’s been doing that since he met me. He’s soon replaced by Ivan, Roman’s brigadier, and his very awesome wife, Jenn.

“Come in, come in! And sit down, Ivan.” I usher them in and give them both a big squeeze. I’ve known them almost as long as I’ve known Roman and Sasha.

Taking my place behind Roman’s monstrous desk, I look across the room at my friends who stand out like dog balls in this room. Both in their late 40s, dressed head to toe in black; Ivan and Jenn look like grim reapers in the surprisingly jolly and yet horribly garish office. Although I suppose that’s what you get when the decorator is a bisexual Pakhan with dubious taste and the money of Jeff Bezos. Only Roman’s inner circle know the real Roman. The Roman the world sees is the cold, calculating head of the Bratva. His real friends know he loves trash reality TV and ugly furniture.

“So Ana, how are you?” Ivan asks in his accented English.

“Oh, all formal now that you’re visiting me here at the office? Where were those manners when I was checking up on you at home, huh?”

“It’s this office. It does something to me.”

He smirks back at me as I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Right, give me the update. How are you getting on?”

As a brigadier, Ivan’s job is to oversee his own crew. However, as my friend, he protected me and August Tombs and got shot because of it. I owe this man my life.

“Ah, tis but a scratch, my dear.”

A scoff escapes me at the reference. “Riiiight. Ok, scratch that. Jenn, how’s he getting on?”

I ignore Ivan’s cry of indignation and I take great glee at his discomfort when his wife spills exactly how well, or not well, he is getting on. We spend the next while going over Ivan’s injury and his rehab. Jenn is a real ball buster, so I have a feeling that he’s going to come out of rehab healthier and stronger than when he went in.

“Well, this was a good chat, but next time, maybe just call Jenn in. No one lets me talk.” The big man broods in the plush purple armchair he’s stuffed himself in. Ivan is at least 6’5 and he’s about as wide as a fridge, so sulking doesn’t look good on him.

“Don’t be a baby! You know we love you.” I say, waving a hand dismissively at him. Ivan’s face lights up at this and as his wife playfully admonishes him too. I love these two. You can tell they’ve been together for a long time and think the world of each other. But nothing makes a girl feel more painfully single than having a happy couple up in her grill.

“Do you want to get that? That’s the second time it’s gone off,”

I’ve been willfully ignoring the sound of my phone vibrating on the top of the desk.

“No way! I’m in a very important meeting with my two favorite people.”

“Lying isn’t very becoming Ana. No one likes Ivan enough for him to be their favorite,” Jenn says with a twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah, yeah. Right, we’ll let you get back to it, kid. Give me a yell if you need anything. Anything at all.” Ivan says, and I watch as he tries to haul himself out of the tiny chair he’s sitting in.

“No way, big man. You’re on leave until the doctor gives you a clean bill of health. Remember, if you need anything - more rehab, new equipment - anything, just let me know and I’ll arrange it. Jenn, make sure you let me know, yeah?” Getting up, I make my way around the desk to hug my friends.

When I first arrived in America, the sheer size and scale of everything overwhelmed me. After growing up in foster care in small town New Zealand, with very few people to call family or friends, a sheer stroke of luck led me to Roman and his Bratva family.

“Will do, don’t you worry. He’ll be back to work in no time. I’m sick of him being at home.’’ We both share a laugh while Ivan glowers down at us.

“I’m right here,” he huffs out.

“We know. You’re hard to miss.” I smirk up at him. He lunges to wrap his large arm around my neck, giving me a noogie that is going to do absolutely nothing for my hair, then dropping a kiss to the top of my head.

“You’re doing a good job as underboss, girl. Roman left us in excellent hands.”

Not being able to stop the snort that escapes me, I slap him on the shoulder. “Whatever. I’m just the secretary.”

He shakes his head at me and wraps his arm over his wife’s shoulder as they leave.

Running my hands through my hair, I twist it up with a claw clip, ignoring the jumping and bumping of my cell phone across the desk. The number is flashing as unknown and I don’t think answering it will do me any favors, so I continue to ignore it. Note to self: ask Tuesday to trace the number or something.

“Miss? August Tombs is here,”

“Mr? Send him in, please.” I watch Igors’ white eyebrows fly up to meet his non-existent hairline before a small smirk drifts across his face.

“Certainly Miss,” Igor backs out of the doorway, and in mere moments, August Tombs fills the space. He’s every bit as broodingly beautiful as I remember. Damn it. I hoped that the stress of being threatened and then locked down at the MC clubhouse had somehow messed up my perception of things. But no. He’s still thigh-clenchingly hot.

“Ana, it’s good to see you again.” Gus eats up the space between us with his long legs. For a moment there, I’m not sure whether to meet him halfway or what. I decide to walk around my desk as it’s what I do with all the people I have meetings with. I extend my hand, but Gus has other ideas. He places his large hand on the small of my back. His soft, woodsy scent wraps around me as he leans in and brushes his lips against my cheek before releasing me. If I were a weaker woman, I’d follow him and perch my size 16 ass in his lap, but I’m made of tougher stuff, even if my vagina doesn’t agree. I take a couple of breaths before returning to my chair.

“Gus, it’s good to-”

“Ana, I’m sorry that-” we both stop and awkwardly wait for the other to speak. Gus clears his throat, opens his mouth, but before anything can come out, my phone vibrates its way toward him.

“Do you wanna get that?” Gus asks, that damn sexy eyebrow raised.

“Nope. It’s fine. That’s my personal cell. Let it go to voicemail.”

He eyes it for a moment until it stops, and the light goes off.

“I was just wanting to say that I’m really sor-” he watches as my phone lights up once again, moving across the desk “You should get that.”

“No, no need.”

“Dammit, Ana, pick up the phone.”

“No.” I watch as his jaw clenches slightly “I don’t answer personal calls when I’m in a meeting. Besides, it’s an unknown number. I don’t answer them.” The light goes off on my phone and the vibrating stops once again. We both stare at it, waiting. I’m staring so hard it’s almost like I’m daring the bloody thing to ring again. As if I willed it into existence, it lights up and starts vibrating once again.

“Fuck, that’s it!” Gus snatches it up in his hand and I jump up, thinking he’s going to throw the thing at the wall. Instead, he slides the call button before growling, “She’s busy. What do you want?”

His head tilts for a moment, his perfect man-brows pulling together in a frown over his chocolate colored eyes. His dark hair is longer on the top, pushed back by him running his hands through it rather than artfully styling it. His light brown skin somehow glows under the crappy mood lighting Roman chose for this room. How unfair.

“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll let her know and she’ll be in touch.”

Shit, I missed all that. He regards me for a moment, squints, purses his lips and stares for even longer.

“So, who was it?”

“Immigration,”

“Immi- shit! Immigration?! What did they want?”

“They want you to know you haven’t updated your working visa papers, and as your employer is currently in Russia, you will be escorted from the country in 30 days.”

A squawk leaves my mouth and I’m temporarily stunned. What the absolute hell is going on?

“No, there must be some mistake. That isn’t right. I’m allowed to live and work here for another three years. We just got my visa extended.” This can’t be happening. I love it here. My friends and my new chosen family are here.

I think better when I’m moving, so I kick off my heels and pace aggressively around the room.

“That is all correct, however with your employer out of the country for an unspecified amount of time and you taking over a new role, you are in the unusual position of being without your so-called ‘work sponsor’.”

“Shit a brick! There must be something I can do? Surely Roman has a contact in immigration?”

“If he did, this would never have been flagged.”

“Surely they’ll be understanding? I mean, my paperwork is done and he won’t be out of the country forever. If I talk to them and explain the situation, they might go easy on me.”

“The one thing this country doesn’t ‘go easy’ on is immigration.”

“Knowing how America was founded, I find that very ironic.”

Gus huffs out a breath before his eyes travel the length of me. I feel it like a caress. Is it hot in here?

“There is one thing that could work.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Marry me.”