1. Nik

1

"There you are, darling. As delicious as ever, might I add," a familiar female voice says behind me.

Kat and I turn around to face the woman addressing me.

"Edna, you're too kind," I say in greeting. "It's been a while."

"Too long, darling. Far too long. Although I suppose it's always a good thing when a man in your line of work doesn't need someone in mine. But I wasn't talking to you, Nikolai. Katherine, it's been ages. I never properly thanked you for giving me a hand with that nasty Brussels business. Lovely dress, by the way."

I glance at Kat, surprised to learn she and Edna are familiar with each other.

Kat smiles warmly at the woman in front of us. "How are you, E?"

Edna Smith is a very peculiar person. Barely five feet tall, she always manages to look down her nose at all of us made men, even through her black-rimmed glasses. She has to be at least in her late fifties, but she doesn't look a day over thirty. The woman can be a bit abrasive, and her many quirks can grate on anyone's nerves, but she grows on you.

Regardless, Edna doesn't care if people like her. Truthfully, it doesn't matter to her one bit. After all, anyone in my line of business needs her now and then, so we can't afford to get on her bad side. That's the privilege that comes with being the best in the field. God knows she isn't afraid to wield it.

Like Kat, Edna is a renowned independent contractor in our little demimonde. But unlike my bewitching date, Edna is in what we call the clean-up business.

"Now, I heard the rumors, but I confess I didn't take them for much more than meaningless gossip until now," Edna says. "It made little sense to me that Nikolai Stefanovich—the all-mighty pakhan of the Russians—and Katherine Devereaux, my favorite cat burglar and con woman, would be romantically involved. After all, you two are polar opposites of each other, as I know very well. What could have possibly brought the two of you together?"

"What, indeed?" Kat asks me with a mischievous smile, winking at me.

I narrow my eyes at her, and she blows me a kiss. Lord, have mercy on me. With a small sigh, I sip on my whiskey.

"I see it now, of course," Edna adds with a delicate shrug. "Pure, animalistic sexual attraction, obviously."

I almost choke on the liquor, fire burning in my throat and even in my nostrils as I cough uncontrollably. Kat rubs my back, softly laughing.

"I couldn't have put it better myself," Kat says as my coughing fit subsides.

"And it's great timing on your part, too. There's nothing like the promise of new love to help keep the sorrow and grief of losing a loved one at bay. I was horribly sorry to hear about Maxim, Nikolai," Edna says, flipping her short hair back. She always liked him.

I nod in acknowledgment. "I appreciate that, Edna."

"I've been very curious about a few details concerning his death, though, so I'm glad I ran into you tonight. What's this nonsense I hear about his body disappearing?"

"Nothing to worry about," I say, giving her a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "It's just a small mix-up with the funeral home. I'm sure it'll be worked out soon enough. Nothing but an oversight."

Edna doesn't seem convinced by my response. As a matter of fact, the little woman raises her thin eyebrows so high that they disappear behind her bangs. "What are you talking about, Nikolai? What kind of oversight leads to a body going missing? There's something weird going on here. I'd know, of course. Making corpses disappear is my bread and butter, as you're aware."

I carefully consider my answer as I take a deep, fortifying breath. Truth be told, I'd love nothing more than to ask Edna to fuck off and mind her own business. But as the pakhan of the bratva, I can't even consider the possibility. She's far too essential to our operations. I can't risk offending her.

"What can I say, Edna?" I ask with a smile, shrugging. "We're working on it, and I'm confident this issue will be sorted out sooner rather than later. While we're at it, you wouldn't have any information you'd like to share with me, would you? I can only imagine what a woman in your position could do for a man in my unfortunate situation. As always, I'd make it worth your while, of course."

Edna scoffs. "Nikolai, please. Don't insult me with your vulgar suggestions. You know how fond I was of that boy. I'd never play any part in any shenanigans involving his body. That poor thing. Is it true that he was strangled to death? With a garrote, I hear? Well, at least it was quick, I suppose. In your line of work, one can never be too grateful for these small blessings."

Next to me, Kat gasps, but I don't let my polite smile fade away. I know Edna doesn't mean to insult. This frankness of hers is just one of her eccentricities. I can't say I blame her for being so desensitized to discussing the practicalities of death.

"Was an autopsy done?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Not yet."

"Well, it's best to assume it'll never be done. Even if you miraculously recover his body, it'd be pointless. He'll likely be too far decomposed by now. I think we can safely assume that anyone who'd steal his corpse wouldn't be concerned about keeping it fresh. Even if they don't have any other nefarious goals besides hiding evidence of their crime—which, trust me, isn't a given."

My stomach churns a little, and Kat shoots me a concerned look, a cute little frown wrinkling her brow. She clutches my hand, and I return the gesture.

I manage not to say anything to Edna, focusing my energy on not letting the mental image of Maxim's decomposing remains tossed in a ditch overtake my brain. It's a better use of my strength than choking the life out of Edna.

"To be perfectly candid with you, Nikolai," she adds, "you might as well give up hope of finding your friend's body. It's for the best. Take it from someone who does this sort of thing professionally—the odds of you finding anything you can even remotely attempt to put to rest are very slim. Any person who'd dare to steal the corpse of the bratva's pakhan's best friend isn't messing around."

Kat interrupts Edna's tirade with a polite smile. "Thank you for the advice. We appreciate your professional opinion and insight."

"Well, you're welcome, of course," Edna says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Now, of course, if anyone can pull off such a feat and find a rotting corpse after so long, that's your man Nikolai. But I'm just not sure it's worth the effort. Maybe you're better off burying an empty casket as a symbolic gesture and moving on. I am, of course, more than used to the reality of putrified body parts, but I understand it can be an upsetting experience to many—which is why I advise against this pointless pursuit."

Unable to restrain myself, I clutch my whiskey glass tightly before forcing my hand to relax. The last thing I want is the damn thing shattering and cutting Kat as she leans against my side, caressing my arm.

Still, the image of Maxim's blue eyes turning into oozing, decomposing fluids as his skin breaks down to reveal the contents of his body is hard to shake.

"We'll definitely give that some thought, Edna," Kat says in a pacifying tone. "I must ask—where did you get that bag? I just love that color."

Edna chuckles, blushing with pleasure at Kat's well-placed compliment, meant to distract her. "Oh, this old thing? There's this fabulous little shop in Rome, my dear. Remind me to give you the address later. Now, about Maxim's death, let me ask you this?—"

Kat cuts her off, straightening next to me, her voice as striking as a lashing whip. "Edna, I've been delicately trying to let you know how insensitive and rude you are behaving, but I realize my attempts at polite subtlety are wasted on you. I'm afraid I must ask you to stop asking these pointed questions or making graphically gruesome comments about Maxim. I insist, actually. Please don't talk about him at all. You're being incredibly indelicate and hurtful. Nikolai's too much of a gentleman to tell you to have some tact, but I don't mind saying it at all."

Edna's head snaps back as if Kat had struck her. I'd be willing to bet a lot of money that no one's ever talked to her like that. As her shock subsides a little, she looks down her nose at Kat in that supercilious way of hers. With an insufferable air of superiority, Edna says, "For old time's sake, I'm going to pretend you didn't talk to me like you just did. I'll give you an opportunity to ask for my forgiveness."

Kat laughs, sipping her drink. "Come now, Edna. You've always been a practical woman. Don't lose your grip on reality now."

Edna squints her eyes so tightly I'm not sure she can see anything. "Nikolai, please talk some sense into this girl. She's lost her mind. She must not know who she's speaking to."

Before I have time to say anything, Kat interjects. "It goes both ways, Edna. You must've forgotten who you're speaking to as well. After all, I know all about your little incident back in Brussels. Maybe you'll need my services again., so I'd be nice to Nik and me if I were you. Or I might be inclined to not pick up the phone next time you call me."

I expect Edna to chew Kat off for speaking to her like that. I know for a fact that made men—armed to their teeth and with over a hundred pounds on Kat—will cower at mere hints of Edna's displeasure. Instead, she stares at Kat, her mouth slightly ajar, looking stunned.

Honestly, I can relate. I know just how she feels. I suppress a nervous laugh, torn between feeling ecstatic and horrified. Horrified because I don't even want to imagine the consequences of pissing off Edna for a man in my position. Ecstatic because Kat took me by surprise by being in my corner like that. I don't know where this version of Kat came from, but I like her—a lot.

Still, I study Edna, trying to devise a way to salvage this disaster. "Edna—" I say, unsure of what to tell her.

To my surprise, she chuckles. "You know, I've always liked you, Kat. You're just my kind of girl. No bullshit. You're right, of course. I forget myself sometimes. You mustn't take it to heart, darling."

My head pivots to Kat, and I'm relieved to see in her expression that she will accept Edna's olive branch.

"Oh, I would never, E. Don't give it another thought," Kat says.

"And I didn't mean to offend you, Don Stefanovich," Edna says, showing me deference for the first time in the decade I have known her. "You know I loved that boy. You must forgive me. At the end of the day, I'm nothing but a crazy old woman who spends way too much time in the company of corpses. I forget these things."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Edna," I say, lying to her face with a smile.

Out of nowhere, Edna jumps up excitedly. "Oh, if it isn't that handsome rascal Garrett I see! He used to work for me, you know. I must bother him mercilessly. If you two will excuse me…" She waves her goodbyes to us over her shoulder, walking towards the poor man.

Kat and I watch her leave in a flurry of motion. I glance in Kat's direction, and she shoots me a curious look.

"What?" she asks with a frown. "Why do you have that look on your face?"

"My knight in shining armor," I say with an exaggerated sigh.

Kat rolls her eyes, but her lips curve in a slight smile. "I just—I couldn't take it any longer. It was like watching a car wreck. Somebody had to tell her to stop." She shrugs, but I'm not so easily fooled.

I sigh again as I pull her into my arms, unable to restrain myself any longer. I need to feel her body against mine. "My hero."

Kat looks at me with exasperation, but she doesn't resist me. I place my hand on her hips, pulling them against mine, and the feel of her flesh makes me want to growl in possessive pleasure.

Mine, mine, mine.

She wraps her arms around my neck, shooting me an aggravated look. "I won't have anyone else messing with you like that. If anyone gets to put you in your place, it's me."

"Try it and see what happens. Try it, I'm begging you. You'll make my day."

"Miliy, please," she says with a mock sigh. "We both know you're all bark and no bite when it comes to me. I'm as safe as a kitten as far as you're concerned."

I can't even pretend to look displeased. Not when she calls me by that pet name in Russian.

"You talk a big game for a girl ready to throw down with Edna fucking Smith to spare my feelings. That woman knows how to dissolve bodies in a vat of acid, Kat." I shudder in mock horror. "It's okay. You can admit it. You're a little fond of me." I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes, even as her smile grows.

"That's for me to know and for you to wonder about," she says against my lips, and I go from zero to sixty in a millisecond. She raises an eyebrow, smirking as she feels me harden against her stomach.

"Two can play this game, you know," I say against her ear, nipping at it.

"Aw, Nik, don't threaten me with a good time," she says, repeating her words from what feels like a lifetime ago.

"There you are, Kat. I've been looking for you," McGuire says, his rancid voice reverberating behind my back, the last place I want him to be.

Well, second last, at least. Anywhere but in Kat's vicinity will do.

Kat shoots me a scorching hot look that promises me things I've only dreamed about before removing herself from my arms and turning to face the Irish mobster.

"Here I am, Patrick," she says.

"Would you like that tour of the house now?" he asks with a smile, offering her his arm. He doesn't invite me to tag along, of course.

Kat glances at me briefly, giving me the tiniest apologetic shrug. McGuire and anyone else would've missed it, but I'm so attuned to this woman and the slightest vibrations in her body that it could never escape me.

I give her a slight nod in response, in understanding.

Yeah, Kat, I was enjoying myself, too. I agree it sucks that this asshole interrupted us. And yes, I understand that we have a job to do, so you should go with him, even though it makes me die inside a little whenever I see you even breathing the same air as this miserable prick.

As McGuire leads Kat away toward the doorway, she looks over her shoulder at me and blows me a small kiss that he doesn't even notice.

I wink at her, somehow managing to stop myself from killing the man right here and now, if for no other reason than for lusting after what's mine.