49. Forty-Eight

I shifted my grip on my knives, drawing the back of my hand through my sweat drenched hair. The steady bass line of “Shoop” echoed off the high metal walls of the warehouse. How the hell was it so fucking hot in there? It was the New Year’s Day for fuck’s sake.

Warrick circled me, his movements fluid and predatory. He held his own knives with the easy familiarity of someone who had spent a lifetime wielding them while his fiancée and brothers leaned against one of the walls, arms crossed.

“Gotov'sya!” Warrick barked, lunging at me in a blur of deadly steel.

I reacted on instinct, muscle memory taking over from the grueling hours of training Warrick had put me through over the past few days. I parried his strike, metal clashing against metal in a jarring impact that reverberated up my arm.

Warrick grunted approvingly as we traded a furious volley of blows, our knives flashing in the fluorescent lights. He feinted left, and I fell for it, overcompensating and leaving my right side open. Warrick's blade skimmed along my ribs, the razor edge kissing my flesh.

“Not bad,” he said, stepping back. “But don’t get cocky. That’s how you get killed.”

I nodded, breathing hard. My side stung where Warrick's knife had sliced me, a thin line of blood welling up. It was a superficial wound, meant to teach, not to maim.

“Again,” Warrick commanded, falling back into a ready stance.

I mirrored him, adjusting my grip on the knives, trying to find that balance between tension and relaxation Warrick had drilled into me. Too tense and my movements would be stiff, predictable. Too relaxed and I'd be slow to react. It was a delicate dance, one I was still learning the steps to.

We clashed again, blades ringing as we parried and thrust. I could feel myself improving, could see it in the way Warrick had to work harder to find openings in my defense. But he still managed to slip past my guard more often than not, his knives scoring my skin and clothes.

By the time Warrick called a halt, I was drenched in sweat, my muscles burning and my lungs heaving. But beneath the exhaustion was a thrumming sense of accomplishment. I was doing this. I was learning how to fight, how to survive. How to never be a victim again.

“You're getting better,” Warrick said, clapping me on the shoulder. “A few more weeks of this and you might actually be good.”

I handed my knives to Warrick and grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from my face. “When Shepherd said I’d be learning to defend myself, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” I said, my voice rough with fatigue and emotion.

“If you change your mind and want to do martial arts, you can call me anytime,” Xander called from the edge of the room.

“Or,” said Warrick, “you could learn guns with Xavier.”

I glanced over at Xavier, who was cleaning his fingernails with a wicked-looking switchblade. He met my gaze and smirked, the gesture somehow both inviting and threatening.

“I think I'll stick with the knives for now,” I said, turning back to Warrick. “But thanks for the offer.”

Warrick nodded, his expression unreadable. “Suit yourself. But you should know how to handle a gun too and have some basic martial arts training. It's a necessary skill in our line of work.”

Our line of work. The words sent a shiver down my spine, a reminder of the dangerous path I'd chosen. But it was too late to turn back now. I'd made my decision the moment I'd decided I was all-in with Shepherd and Keres.

“I'll learn,” I said, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. “Whatever it takes.”

Warrick shrugged and grunted in response.

His fiancée, Paxton, swept in, putting a big meaty arm around War’s more delicate neck, practically choking him as he yanked him close for a kiss. “Aw, don’t be like that, baby. The kid’s family now.”

War’s face flushed bright cherry red. “Take five, kid. Get some water.”

“Water?” Xander snickered and pushed off the wall. “He already looks half drowned.”

Xander sauntered over, a mischievous glint in his eye. He wore tight black leather pants paired with a flowy, shimmering purple top that draped off one shoulder. A chunky silver necklace glinted at his throat, matching the stack of bangles adorning his wrists.

“Come on, killer,” Xander teased, linking his arm through mine. “Let's go cool off.”

I let him drag me outside, the frigid January air a shock to my overheated skin. The snow crunched beneath our boots as we trekked a little ways from the warehouse, our breath puffing out in white clouds.

Xander released my arm and spun around, his arms spread wide as he tilted his face up to the grey sky before flopping backwards into a snowbank, his purple top stark against the white. He waved his arms and legs, creating a snow angel.

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. But Xander's enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself laying down next to him, the snow cold and wet against my back as I swept my own limbs through the powder.

We laid there for a moment, staring up at the sky, snowflakes drifting down to melt against our flushed cheeks. It was peaceful, the sounds of the city muffled by the snow.

“You know, you’re not how I thought you’d be,” he said.

I frowned and looked over at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I always thought Shepherd would go for a more bookish type. You know, more a nerd. You’re actually kinda cool.”

“Thanks, I guess?” I didn’t mean for it to come out as a question.

A snowball suddenly exploded against the side of Xander's head in a puff of white powder.

Xander yelped and shot upright, shaking snow from his hair. “What the fuck?”

Xavier stood a few feet away, tossing another snowball up and down in his gloved hand, a wicked grin on his face. “You two looked far too serious. Thought you could use some lightening up.”

Xander narrowed his eyes. “Oh, it's on now, bro.” He scooped up a handful of snow, packing it quickly, and launched it at Xavier.

Xavier dodged easily, laughing. “You sure you don’t need glasses? You missed me by a mile.” He threw his own snowball, catching Xander square in the chest.

Xander spluttered indignantly, brushing snow off his top. “This is designer, you heathen!”

“All's fair in love and war, Dee,” Xavier singsonged, already scooping up more ammunition.

“I’m gonna make you eat those words,” Xander promised, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he gathered up an armful of snow. He packed it quickly into a tight ball and sent it hurtling towards Xavier with impressive accuracy.

The snowball caught Xavier in the shoulder with a satisfying thwack, sending up a spray of icy powder. Xavier let out a surprised yelp, his jaw dropping in mock outrage. “Oh, you are so dead!”

He scooped up his own pile of snow, his fingers moving deftly to shape it into a perfect sphere. Xander ducked behind me, using me as a human shield as Xavier wound up and let the snowball fly.

I instinctively raised my arms to protect my face, but the snowball still managed to clip my ear, the icy sting making me gasp.

Xander cackled gleefully behind me. “Nice one, Eli! Way to take one for the team!”

“I didn't volunteer to be your meat shield!” I protested, but I couldn't keep the grin off my face. It had been so long since I'd engaged in something as simple and carefree as a snowball fight.

I bent and gathered my own ammunition, the snow squeaking as I compacted it between my palms. I caught Xavier’s eye and jerked my chin towards Xander who was still hiding behind me.

Xavier gave a small nod, a mischievous glint in his eye. On an unspoken count of three, we both whipped around and let our snowballs fly, mine aimed high while Xavier's went low.

Xander barely had time to let out a startled yelp before he was struck from both directions, my snowball exploding against his chest while Xavier's caught him in the thigh. He staggered back, windmilling his arms for balance before tumbling backwards into the snowdrift with an indignant squawk.

Xavier and I burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the metal walls of the warehouse.

Xander lay there for a moment, splayed out on his back in the snow, blinking up at the gray sky. Then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Oh, you two are in for it now.”

He surged to his feet in a blur of motion, scooping up great armfuls of snow. Xavier and I had a split second to exchange a wide-eyed look of "oh shit" before Xander was upon us, dumping his icy payload over our heads with a triumphant cackle.

I gasped as the snow slid down the back of my neck, icy tendrils snaking under my collar. Beside me, Xavier spluttered and shook his head like a dog, sending droplets of melted snow flying.

The snowball fight devolved into an all-out war, the three of us ducking and dodging, scooping up snow and flinging it at each other with wild abandon. Laughter rang out across the yard, our cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion.

In the end, we called it a draw and flopped down in the snow, staring up at the gray sky. I lay there in the cold, my chest heaving with exertion and laughter, tiny icy crystals melting against my overheated skin. The sky above was a study in shades of gray, heavy clouds pregnant with the promise of more snow. Flakes drifted down lazily, alighting on my lashes, my cheeks, my parted lips. Each one was unique, a delicate frozen miracle, and I marveled at their intricacy even as they dissolved instantly against my flesh.

“You doing anything this weekend?” Xander asked suddenly.

I turned my head to look at him. “Going to The Playground with Shepherd. Why?”

“The Playground?” He wrinkled his nose. “You should come hang with us. I’ll show you all the best clubs.”

I huffed a laugh, my breath puffing out in a white cloud. “I'm not much of a dancer,” I admitted.

The thought of all those bodies pressed together, the pulsing music and flashing lights, the smell of sweat and alcohol... it made my skin crawl. Too many memories of being touched against my will, of hands grabbing and groping, taking what they wanted without my consent.

Xander rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His eyes were soft with understanding. “We could do something else then. Go to a movie, hit up the arcade…” His lips quirked up in a playful grin. “I'm sure we can find some trouble to get into that doesn't involve dancing.”

“Or drugs,” Xavier said, snorting.

“Sober Xander?” I quipped. “Is that even possible?”

Xander clasped a hand to his chest in mock affront. “I'll have you two know I contain multitudes. Dancing, drinking you under the table, and doing two lines at once are only some of my talents.”

“Do I even want to know what the others are?” I asked wryly.

Xavier rolled his eyes and threw a weak handful of snow at his brother. “Definitely not.”

Xander opened his mouth to retort, but paused, his gaze flicking over my shoulder. I turned to follow his line of sight and felt my breath catch.

Shepherd was striding across the snowy yard towards us, his tall form cutting an imposing figure against the stark white landscape. He was dressed in a black peacoat and dark slacks, the tailored lines of the coat emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and trim cut of his waist. His dark hair was dusted with snowflakes, the icy crystals glinting like diamonds against the inky strands. His eyes were fixed on me now as he closed the distance between us.

I scrambled to my feet, brushing snow from my clothes with suddenly clumsy hands. Xander and Xavier rose more leisurely, exchanging a knowing look that I pretended not to see.

“Eli,” Shepherd greeted as he reached us, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. “I see you've been keeping my brothers entertained.”

“Someone has to,” Xander quipped. “Otherwise, we might actually have to do some work.”

Shepherd's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. “I'm sure that would be terrible for your manicure.”

“You’re goddamn right,” Xander muttered.

Shepherd turned his attention back to me. “Are you ready to go?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. Shepherd must have seen something in my expression, because his gaze softened. He reached out, cupping my cheek.

Xander leaned in and said in a dramatic, low voice, “Now, kiss.”

I shot Xander an exasperated look, but couldn't stop the blush from rising in my cheeks.

Xavier elbowed his brother. “Bro, don’t be a dick.”

Xander just shrugged. “Can’t help it. You know they say you are what you eat.”

“We should get going,” Shepherd said, his voice losing its softness.

“Rain check on that weekend hang out?” Xander asked.

I nodded, trying to ignore the way my stomach fluttered at Shepherd's touch. “Yeah. Rain check.”

We said our goodbyes to Xander and Xavier, promising to text when we got back, then headed for Shepherd's SUV. The leather seats were cold as I slid into the passenger side, the chill seeping through my damp jeans. Shepherd cranked the heat as he pulled out of the warehouse lot, the vents blasting blessed warmth over my numb fingers and face.

The drive home was quiet. I was too tired to do much talking, and Shepherd had spent the day preparing for the next semester’s classes that he was teaching. We were both probably pretty tired. I couldn’t wait to get through the shower so we could cuddle on the couch…and maybe get my mouth around his cock.

We arrived at the apartment building, took the elevator up, opened the front door…

And froze.

Leaning against the wall across from the door, arms crossed over his chest, was FBI Agent Valentine.

“Agent Valentine.” Shepherd put a hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t think breaking and entering was your style.”

“Shepherd,” Valentine returned with a nod. His gaze cut to me. “Eli.”

I just stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. Why was he here? Had something happened? My mind raced with possibilities, each more dire than the last.

Valentine pushed off the wall and uncrossed his arms. “You’d be surprised what kind of access a badge can get you. For what little good it does me these days.” He took several limping steps forward before pausing and leaning against the counter. He tried to play it off as a threatening move, but I saw it for what it was. Valentine was in pain and trying to keep the weight off his right knee.

“Why are you here, Valentine?” Shepherd growled.

Valentine's gaze flicked to Shepherd, his expression unreadable. “Easy. I’m just the messenger.”

“For who?” Shepherd demanded.

Valentine shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Algerone.”

Wait… Valentine was Algerone’s delivery boy? Since when?

Shepherd must’ve thought the same thing because he drew his lips into a thin line. “I didn’t realize you’d thrown your lot in with him.”

Valentine snorted. “More like he came to me.” Valentine pulled a thick folder out of the inside pocket of his coat and slapped it onto the counter.

My eyes widened as I stared at the folder. The weight of it seemed to fill the room, the air suddenly thick with tension. Shepherd reached out and flipped it open, his jaw clenching as he scanned the contents.

Page after page of damning evidence. Surveillance photos, bank statements, intercepted emails and texts. It was all there, laid out in black and white. The Laskins' entire operation, every dirty deal and bloody kill, every connection to the Russian mob.

There was enough in that folder to bury them all. Xavier's hacking, the shell companies Warrick used to launder money, even the details of Daniella's captivity and abuse at the hands of the cult. But even more than that, it had information on Shepherd himself. Photos of him meeting with known Vory leaders, transcripts of wiretapped phone calls discussing “jobs” and “cleanup.” His entire double life, exposed.

“What is this?” I breathed, my voice sounding far away to my own ears.

Valentine leaned back against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest once more. “Insurance,” he said simply. “To ensure your boyfriend's cooperation.”

Shepherd casually flipped the folder closed. “Let me guess. If I don’t comply with Algerone’s demands to surrender Xion, you pull the trigger on this intel, handing it over to your superiors at the FBI.”

Valentine's lips twitched in a humorless smile. “Got it in one. Algerone wants to make sure he has your full attention and compliance. And I'm just the errand boy tasked with delivering the message.”

Shepherd was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he stared down at the closed folder. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, calculating, strategizing.

Finally, he looked up, his dark eyes locking with Valentine's. “Tell Algerone I'll consider his... request. But I don't respond well to blackmail or strong-arm tactics. If he wants my cooperation, this isn't the way to get it.”

Valentine shrugged. “I'm just the messenger and I’m here to tell you that you have two days. That’s it. You want to fight about it, take it up with the man himself.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Shepherd said coldly. “Now, if that's all, I trust you can see yourself out the way you came in.”

Valentine straightened with a grunt, his hand going to his injured knee. He gathered up the file and limped heavily towards the door, pausing as he reached for the handle. He glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze finding mine. “Watch your back, kid. You're playing with fire, getting mixed up with this lot. Sooner or later, you're gonna get burned.”

With that parting warning, he yanked open the door and limped out, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

I stared at the closed door for a long moment, Valentine's parting words ringing in my ears. My stomach churned, a sickening mix of fear and confusion and anger.

I turned to Shepherd, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “What the hell was that about?” I demanded, my voice shaking slightly. “What's going on, Shepherd?”

Shepherd sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. He looked tired, the lines around his eyes and mouth more pronounced than usual. “It's complicated, Eli.”

“Then un-complicate it for me,” I snapped. “Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've been keeping some pretty big secrets. Secrets that could get us all killed or thrown in prison.”

Shepherd was silent for a long moment, his dark eyes searching my face. I met his gaze unflinchingly, refusing to back down. Finally, he sighed again and gestured towards the living room. “Let's sit down. This might take a while.”