29. Kat

29

The feel of Nik's hands on my skin is exactly what I need tonight.

His callused palm rubs against mine as he helps me out of the black Bentley that brought us to McGuire's party. The sensation is exhilarating, and as our eyes connect and his hand caresses mine, I feel electrified.

It's a very welcome distraction. For a moment, I almost completely forget about the possibility of running into the stronzo during the festivities.

Almost.

As the boss of the Italian mafia and the patriarch of the Salvatore family, Giuseppe Salvatore—the villain I unaffectionately think of as the stronzo—could very well be in attendance tonight. I shiver in horror just thinking of facing him while Nik is around.

"Are you cold? You should've worn something that covered more of your skin, milaya," my handsome Russian rasps against my ear as he shrugs out of his black suit jacket.

Nik has a point. My backless pink silk dress is gorgeous but not the most practical attire for this breezy coastal environment.

"I'm fine. Beauty is pain," I say with a smile, stopping him from removing his coat. After all, I need to keep my wits about me tonight, and seeing him undress—even slightly—would make that impossible.

"You must be in constant agony then," he whispers, playfully nipping my earlobe.

I laugh as my nerves subside a little. "You silver-tongued devil. Do you shamelessly flirt with all the women in your employ, or am I just that lucky?"

"Oh, you're lucky. You have no idea how lucky you are. Let me show you." He draws me into his arms, pulling my hips tightly against his. I can't help gasping. Shimmying against him, I try to come up with the most risqué comeback I can get away with right here and now, but our host approaches us then, interrupting our back-and-forth.

"Nikolai! Kat!" Patrick McGuire excitedly greets us, briskly walking down the front steps of his house to meet us. "It's good to see you again. I'm so glad you could join us."

"McGuire," Nik impassively acknowledges the man, shaking his hand.

The Irish mafia boss disengages from Nik after a moment, extravagantly kissing the back of my hand. Next to me, Nik tenses up.

"Kat," McGuire practically purrs with a smile. "Welcome to my home."

"Thank you, Patrick," I respond, biting my bottom lip for his benefit. "What a gorgeous place you have here."

"I'm glad it pleases you. I'd love to give you the tour later. But first, Nikolai, I must show you my new yacht. You haven't seen it yet, have you?"

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Nik says, and I almost miss the hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"Well, come with me. Kat, would you care to join us?"

"With these shoes?" I scoff, pointing to my four-inch high stilettos. "You two go on without me. I'll find something to drink instead."

"Are you sure, dear?" McGuire asks me, a slight frown of polite concern creasing his features.

"I'm positive. As a matter of fact, I insist." I wave them off and start to make my way towards the house.

"Very well. We'll catch up with you later," McGuire says over his shoulder, walking away from me.

Nik bends down to whisper into my ear again. "I'll be right back. Vladmir is inside. If anything happens, I'm only one call away." His tone brims with urgency and intensity.

"I don't have your number."

He presses a farewell kiss to my forehead. "Yes, you do. Check your phone. I saved it in it before handing it back to you."

Bemused, I shake my head, as I watch him walk away, quickly catching up to his nemesis with his long strides. I waste no time pulling out my cell phone from my bag. I search through my contacts list, but my confusion grows once I don't find any new entries under the letter "N" or "S." I swipe up on the screen, curiously glancing at the various names. An unfamiliar entry catches my eye—your boss, it says. I laugh as I roll my eyes before entering the large house and searching for the bar area.

It wasn't a lie that I didn't want to try to balance my way onto a boat while wearing my nude heels. But the real reason I avoided following the two men has nothing to do with my shoes. If I am to have the displeasure of running into the stronzo, then I'd like to face him by myself, as far away as possible from Nik's watchful eyes.

However, as I walk through the finely decorated house—politely nodding and smiling at the numerous guests who make eye contact with me—I don't spot him or any of the men from his inner circle.

Not allowing myself to feel completely relaxed and relieved just yet, I finally locate the bar area.

"A martini, please," I ask the redheaded girl working behind the bar. "Extra dirty."

The bartender nods at me, and I sit on a bar stool, waiting for my drink. As discreetly as possible, I scan my surroundings for any sign of the Italians. That's when Vladmir takes a sit next to me.

"There you are," he grunts, like he usually does, as I have come to learn during my employment with Nik.

"Here I am," I say. "Didn't know you were looking for me."

"Nikolai told me to keep an eye on you until he returns."

"Oh. I see. Sorry about that." I don't want to inconvenience him.

"What are you sorry for?" he grunts again. This time, seemingly in confusion.

I shrug. "Well, I've learned Nik can be a little over-the-top sometimes. Very overprotective. I'm sorry you were handed babysitting duty because of me."

Vladmir glares at me, seeming even more confused. Maybe even a little repulsed by me. "He's the boss. It's not up to me—or you—to criticize his orders. The orders are the orders."

It's my turn to stare at him. This might be the longest sentence I've ever seen him utter. Still, it's obvious the man doesn't like me. That's fine by me. The feeling is mutual.

"Right. Sorry about that, I guess," I say at last, smiling at the bartender in thanks as she hands me my drink. Vladmir has his own glass of clear liquor. Vodka, I'm sure.

I wait for Nik's henchman to say something, but he doesn't. It's clear he's not interested in making conversation with me.

"So," I say, sipping my beverage, "I assume you've been working for Nik for a long time."

"Yes," he says. I expect him to elaborate on his answer, but he doesn't, of course.

"That's nice. You must know him pretty well."

This time, he doesn't even acknowledge me with a verbal response, simply raising an eyebrow and staring blankly ahead.

I sigh.

"I'll take that as a yes. Did you know Maxim well, too?"

This question gets a reaction out of him. "I'm not here to make small talk with you," he chides me.

"Aw, come on, Vlad. It's just an innocent question. I'm just trying to kill time with you while we wait for the boss-man to return from his little field trip. No need to get upset about it."

"Nikolai ordered me to keep you safe—not indulge your idle gossip."

"Gossip? Who said anything about gossip? Like I mentioned, it's just an innocent question. You can't blame me for being curious about Maxim. He's the reason I'm in this situation, after all."

"No, you're in this situation because you're a shameless thief." He takes a healthy swig of his drink.

"Boy, you don't like me much, do you?"

"My opinion of you is irrelevant. Like I said, I'm here to keep you out of trouble, not to like you or chitchat with you."

"It's okay, Vlad. You can say it. You won't hurt my feelings. I'm not crazy about you either." I wink at him.

"Do not call me Vlad."

"No problem." I sigh again.

We sit in silence for a while. The man is stonewalling me, but I'm not ready to give up yet. After all, I'm still not entirely convinced that Nik should be solely focusing on McGuire as the only suspect in Maxim's murder. I need all the information I can get. Vladmir was there that night and has likely been a part of their circle for a long time. He has to know something of value.

Besides, I'm interested in hearing someone else's opinion of Maxim. Nik is definitely not the most unbiased source regarding the deceased man.

After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, I realize Vladmir is far too stoic and straightforward to fall for my usual bullshit. With his type, a direct approach is usually much more fruitful.

"Okay, very well. I'll cut the crap," I say. "You see, whether you care to admit it or not, you and I have much in common."

Vladmir looks at me as if I'm completely out of my mind. I don't let it annoy me too much.

"No, it's true. Really. For starters, we share the same demanding boss," I add. "You know why I'm here. Nik believes I can help him catch McGuire. He's completely certain McGuire is behind Maxim's murder. Surely you have some thoughts on that."

Vladmir shrugs noncommittally. He sips his drink. "It's not my place to question Nikolai's decisions."

Like a dog with a bone, I'm not so easily dissuaded. "Right. You're just here to follow orders. I get it. But there's no way you don't have an opinion of your own on this whole thing. Do you think McGuire did it?"

Grinding his teeth, he says, "Even you have to realize this is not the time or the place for this conversation."

"Oh, come on. Don't give me that. No one can hear us over this commotion." I scoff, gesturing to the rowdy guests nearby.

Vladmir must realize I won't leave him alone until he gives me an answer. He surely knows he can't escape me without disobeying his direct orders.

"It's good enough for me that Nikolai thinks McGuire did it," he mutters, looking back over his shoulders.

"Well, you're very loyal to him, I'll give you that."

As I sip on my martini, I realize this is likely all he will give me on the subject. But just because he won't openly say anything that shows he disagrees with Nik's judgment, it doesn't mean he won't share other things.

"What about Maxim?" I ask, no pretense of subtlety.

Annoyance oozes out of him. "What about him?"

"You knew him well, right? I obviously didn't. I just want to hear someone else's opinion of the man. Understandably, Nik speaks of Maxim as if he were a martyred saint. I'm sure he had many qualities, but I'd be interested in hearing a more nuanced perspective on who he really was."

Once again, Vladmir remains silent for a long while. This man takes brooding to a whole new level. Eventually, though, he quietly says, "I want to make something clear. I won't speak ill of the dead."

Interesting. "Of course not," I say.

"I'll tell you this much. Maxim was many things. A saint wasn't one of them."

"Are you referring to the incident with McGuire's daughter?" I ask, glancing over my shoulders this time to ensure no one's heard me.

"Watch your mouth," he says. "Just let the son of a bitch rest in peace, will you? And leave me the fuck alone while you're at it."

"Son of a bitch, huh? I'm guessing there wasn't any love lost between the two of you. What's the story? I'm sure it's a good one."

"Just mind your fucking business and leave me the fuck alone."

"What's the matter, Vlad? I'm not getting too close to some touchy subject, am I? Boy, I'd hate to be you. I can't imagine what it must be like to be so loyal to a man willing to put your life on the line to avenge someone you hated."

I'm not too scared to provoke him a little. My hope is that his reaction will be telling enough, revealing whether I'm close to the truth or not. And maybe even some juicy details of what's behind the bad blood between him and Maxim.

I don't foresee the extent of his anger, though. In fact, when he forcefully grabs me by the shoulders, lifting me off the stool until my feet are dangling in the air, I'm shocked. I didn't expect the stoic Vladmir to snap like this.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asks an inch away from my face, shaking me hard until my teeth clatter. His fingertips press deeply on the flesh of my arms, and I know I'll have bruises tomorrow. "Why are you so fucking nosy? You sure ask a fuck ton of questions. Especially for a thief."

"Put me down," I say.

"Do you want to know how I felt about Maxim? I'll tell you all about the bastard. He was nothing but a lucky asshole. All his life, he was always in the right place at the right time. That's how he got everything he ever had. He didn't deserve to be the pakhan's second-in-command. He didn't earn that—or anything else in his miserable life. And whatever wasn't easily handed to him on a silver platter, he took it anyway. Like he did with Erin McGuire. Maxim cuckolded Lorenzo and didn't think anything of it. As if he was fucking entitled to my friend's fiancée. That's the kind of man Maxim was. And if you don't watch your fucking mouth, I won't be surprised if you get a chance to get to know him yourself very soon." Vladmir's green eyes burn with pure, unconcealed hatred.

Nik's angry voice reverberates from somewhere behind me. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? If you don't get your hands off of her immediately, I'll kill you."