32. Ranger

[ 32 ]

RANGER

I had no idea where I was. Just that Vik was with me and he had no shirt on. That my head was in his lap, gentle fingers stroking my face while he stared down at me so intently I felt like we were sinking through the bed.

“You are awake,” he whispered.

Not by choice. The room—whatever and wherever it was—had stopped spinning, but my skull still throbbed like a prick and I was pretty sure a lawn mower had ripped through my stomach.

Viktor had both hands cupping my face.

I reached for one.

He smiled and the moody aches faded a bit. This fucker, he was so hot. That hair, those eyes. The pretty tats on that smoking body.

I love you.

Viktor tapped a finger to my lips. “Shh. Let me say it.”

He leaned closer, blocking the rest of the room out, his forehead to mine, pinning me in place as if he had no fucking idea that I’d die right here a happy man. “I love you. I should have said it the other night—I should’ve said it a long time ago. I am so sorry you went into that fight without knowing.”

It took me a second to catch all his words. To process them into something coherent. Then I laughed—a little bit, anyway. “Vik, I know you love me.”

“You do, huh?”

“Mmm.” It was all I had, nausea rocking me. Pain. Not as killer as before, but still profound enough that I was done with the best conversation I’d ever had.

Rude.

Viktor eased back and said something to someone else. Didn’t care who. This place smelt like Kings, and I was cool with any of my brothers being close. Fuck. I needed them as much as I needed Vik.

Locke popped up—I felt more than saw him. His big hands. His deep voice. “Gonna give you a shot, brother. Help you ride this shit out. That okay?”

I made a sound of agreement. A sharp scratch pierced my arm and I waited for the hit, but nothing happened for a while. Then I realised I’d passed out again and I woke up in exactly the same position.

Locke was gone.

Viktor remained and he looked knackered.

I tugged on his hand. “Lie down with me?”

Vik slid down the bed, gazing at me with bloodshot eyes. “You have a lot of friends.”

“Do I?”

“They do not leave.” Viktor nuzzled my cheek. “Saint is here, and Locke fell asleep on the sofa.”

“Locke falls asleep everywhere.” I risked a glance around. For the first time in a while, my eyeballs moved without hurling me off a cliff. “Where are we?”

“Whitness. Locke lives upstairs with his lovers.”

I computed that. Orla’s flat.

Jean.

“Your grandmother is well.” Vik read my mind. “Nash went to see her this morning.”

It made sense to ask what time it was now. What day. But I didn’t give a fuck. The troll in my head was quiet and I didn’t want to wake that arsehole up.

I gazed at Viktor instead. He had a shirt on and different clothes. His hair was damp, but I could tell he hadn’t slept.

“You need to drink,” he said suddenly. “Here.”

Water appeared. I didn’t want it. Until I did, and I drank the lot.

Viktor tossed the empty bottle. “That is good. Maybe Locke will go home now.”

Locke. He was asleep on the sofa.

Saint . . . where was he?

Like he’d heard me, a door pushed open and Saint appeared.

I pushed myself up on my elbows as he drew nearer, and Viktor scooted back to give him space.

Saint wasn’t much for hugs.

Or words.

Or anything that I had the brain power for right now, but for once, the communication gods were on his side. “I’m sorry I pushed you. I thought you were going to shoot them, and I couldn’t shout stop in time.”

A frown creased my face. “Shoot who?”

“Alexei and Viktor—” Saint fought for more, but he was done. And I’d heard enough anyway. I didn’t remember what he described, but I knew Saint. He didn’t overreact. He didn’t misread. And I’d happily let him set me on fire if it kept Vik safe.

Saint knew that. He was one of those dudes who could look at me and know what I felt before I did. But whatever my face was doing . . . it wasn’t enough. He was still fractured, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

He pressed a fist to my arm and melted away.

Seconds later, a door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls, and motherfucker, it hurt.

I turned my frown on Vik. “What’s up with him?”

Viktor gestured for me to remove my shirt, brandishing a clean one that was actually mine. “He is upset that he hurt you. And angry with Cam for manoeuvring around him.”

That threw me. I sifted through the garbled mess in my brain, searching for the right tape, knowing I needed to find it for myself to make sense of it.

It came to me eventually. Cam and Jake. They’d fucked us. Sent us running in the wrong direction on purpose. Wasn’t sure how, but that shit was beyond me even when my skull wasn’t imploding in time with my pulse. “He wouldn’t be so pissed off if Alexei had done it.”

“Alexei was going to do it.” Viktor rolled fresh socks onto my feet like an absolute cutie pie. “And do not even deny that you would have—that Saint would have—if the two of you had got the chance. All of us and none of us have the right to be angry, and for what? For loving each other too much?”

“All right, luv. Don’t go on.”

Viktor laughed and it was fucking beautiful. “You are not angry then?”

“With who?”

“Anyone. Everyone.”

“Did we kill them all?”

Vik’s humour morphed into grim satisfaction. “We did. Now it is time for Jake to negotiate what happens next, but you do not need to worry about that.”

“You think I don’t care about your brother?”

“That is not what I said. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Could you eat something anyway?”

No. I was sure of it. Then a familiar scent reached me, wrapped around me as if it was Vik’s fucking arms, and a sense of right changed everything.

Fucking oranges. Somehow these dimpled little shits had begun to smell like home.

I let Viktor feed me cos it made him happy. The Jake thing, though . . . it got stuck on repeat in my mashed brain, and I couldn’t let it go. I napped some more. Took a wobbly shower and passed out.

Hours slipped by.

Days maybe—fucking weeks—until Rubi showed up and filled the doorway to a room that had begun to feel like a padded cell. “How much do you love me, Rangie Roo?”

I sat up on the bed, searching for Vik on autopilot.

“The queen stole Vicky,” Rubi supplied. “Change of scenery will do him good.”

“How come he gets day release from the asylum?”

“He’s nicer.”

Couldn’t argue with that.

I eased back down as Rubi came closer.

“Brought you something.”

“Unless it’s a spell to teleport my-fucking-self out of this room, I don’t give a shit.”

“Where would you go?”

Wherever Vik is.

I managed not to speak my heart out loud this time, but Rubi heard me all the same and handed me the paper bag he’d been hiding behind his back.

Warm. Greasy. Magical.

“You brought me nuggets?”

Rubi scowled. “Don’t say it out loud. Makes it real.”

I opened the bag. Twenty nuggets waited for me, and I was suddenly more hungry than I’d ever been my whole life.

And scared that they’d come up as fast as I wanted to eat them, but I knew Rubi. How he felt about the lifeblood that was my favourite junk food. Didn’t want to give him the chance to change his mind, so I demolished them in record time, feeling every ounce of salt, fat, sugar, and who the fuck cared what else hit my bloodstream. Loving it, almost as much as I loved Viktor.

Rubi took the bag and crushed it in his inked fists. “You’re a monster. A lucky one. Riv went to the drive-thru. If it had been me, you’d have got a happy meal.”

“Just one?”

“Maybe two,” Rubi conceded, taking a perch on the edge of the bed. “How’s the noggin?”

“Still there.”

“Still hurt?”

I shrugged. “It’s better. Can I leave soon?”

“Nopety nope.” Rubi shook his big shaggy head. “Put the time in now so it doesn’t ruin your life later.”

Like it had his—I’d had all this from Cam already. Wasn’t in the mood to have it again.

Grimacing, I shifted onto my side, my whole body aching from inactivity. “I might fossilise in here.”

“Viktor not entertaining enough?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not.” Rubi hooted a laugh. “This is the best tea we’ve had since it turned out Folk and Deeky bumped uglies in the army.”

“What?”

“You don’t know that story?” Rubi rubbed his hands together. “Padawan, let me fill you in.”

He did, while I drifted in a nugget coma, musing that I’d always known Decoy was an absolute lad. Then Rubi sobered a little. “Speaking of the Fruit Pickers, they extended their trip, but they’ll be home in a few days. Which means Folk’s going to find out you nearly carked it, and he ain’t gonna be happy.”

“So don’t tell him.”

Rubi winced. “He was already pissed that Cam let the Russians have you, and the Doherty thing Cam had to tell him about in the end when Liliana told Mats, and I don’t know if you know this, but Folk’s an actual sea dragon when he’s annoyed.”

Information overload did me in. I focused on the part that jumped out at me most. “Cam didn’t let anyone have me. I wanted to go.”

“I know that. Folk does too. But he cares about you, and that always skews how we see things.”

“Did you get that from a cracker joke?”

“Fuck you, dirtbag.” Rubi stood as Viktor slipped back into the room, addressing both of us. “And don’t forget to keep this place clean. Khaleesi is being nice because you almost died. Trust me, that won’t last if you don’t empty the bins.”

Viktor answered for me. “Friend, I just spent a week with Ivanov. I’ll be in my tidy era for a while.”

“Valid.” Rubi tipped a dry salute. Then he left and it felt different. As if the flat we’d been holed up in was finally empty.

“Are we alone?”

“Da.” Viktor ran a hand through his hair and regarded me as the sun began to set outside. Where he’d just been, the lucky fucker. “Your friends have left for the night.”

“Can we change the locks?”

Viktor stopped mauling his hair. “You are feeling better.”

A statement, not a question. And he was right. If I let myself, I’d sleep for the rest of eternity, but my stomach was chill and my eyeballs no longer felt too big for my head. Progress, right?

Viktor seemed to agree. He helped me up and kissed my cheek. “You would like a change of scenery?”

“Depends on the view.”

“Come with me.”

He led me to the living room that housed a couch almost as big and squishy as the one in his island home. The lights were off, only fading sunlight filtering through the blinds. Devon sunshine. Had I missed it?

I drifted to the window to be sure, but no answer came to me. I’d brought my nanna to this place cos on some level I’d always known I’d need the help of better men than me to take care of her. But that didn’t make it home, and Norfolk could get in the bin too.

Leeds, then. But when I thought of the city that had raised me, I found nothing until my thoughts meandered to that fancy-pants flat with its cluttered coffee table and banging sound system, where it’d rained the whole time I’d been there. Maybe it was time I accepted that to me, Viktor was the fucking sun.

He slid his arms around my waist and kissed my bare shoulder. “Sit with me.”

On the couch.

I could do that.

With him, I could do anything. Even lie down when I was sick to fucking death of it.

I claimed the big spoon position and pressed my face between Vik’s shoulders. It was how we’d slept most often on the island and I loved it. How he felt in my arms. Awake, asleep, whatever, it was so fucking perfect that a genuine happy sigh escaped me.

Viktor laughed. “For a grumpy person, you are easily pleased.”

“Who says I’m grumpy?”

“Every soul who has come through that door.”

He jerked his head at the hallway.

I ignored that and dug the remote from under a cushion. “I can watch telly, right? Locke said something about screens, but I wasn’t fucking listening.”

Viktor kissed the inside of my wrist. “You can do anything if it feels good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I liked that idea, but Viktor fell asleep before I could figure out what that meant for my messy self. Proper asleep, face smooth and vacant, despite the growth on his jaw that was more my style than his.

The TV bemused me. I couldn’t remember how anything worked. Or what I wanted to watch, if anything. Just that I craved this dull moment with Vik—one where he wasn’t crawling the walls for something else and I wasn’t hurling my guts up in a borrowed bathroom.

I found a Royle Family rerun and put that on. It didn’t hurt my brain. Nor did the Goldie documentary that came on next. It was all good—I was all good, and I felt like smoking, distracting myself by kissing Vik’s neck. Cos I wanted him to wake up. Cos I missed him—I needed him, cos the longer I was alone, the more my mind wandered and I started thinking about shit I didn’t want to think about.

Logistical shit. Gangster shit that was gonna pull Vik away from me before I could ride again.

That could be months.

So? I’d barely ridden the whole time I’d been on Satsuma Island, but I’d driven. I’d fought. I’d protected Vik. What good was I to him if I couldn’t do any of that for the foreseeable? And even if I could, my heart knew I had to give Jean some time. I wanted to give her that time.

But I wanted Vik too. I loved him. And he loved me. But when the dust settled, what the fuck did that mean?

You don’t need to worry about that.

Too late, luv. Too late.

“Asher.”

I blinked.

Vik had shifted onto his back. Wide awake, he stared up at me. “What is wrong?”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Where would I go?”

“Back to Jake. To the island or to your gold fucking tower in Moscow. I don’t know.”

Amusement flared in Viktor’s eyes. He pressed his lips together, trying to hide it, but I knew him, and even if I was slowly working myself into a weird-as-fuck panic attack, I loved to see it. “I do not have a gold tower, in Moscow or anywhere else. And I have no plans to leave you. Why would you think that?”

“You don’t live here.”

“Neither do you, by all accounts.”

“My nanna’s here.”

“I know.”

“Vik, I can’t ride. I can’t fight.”

“I know that too. Do you think that is how I see you? As a tool—a weapon?”

“I’m definitely a tool.”

Viktor frowned, my shit humour whizzing over his head. “I am not going to leave you. I was hoping you would allow me to stay.”

“What?”

He sat up, bringing his face to mine, stroking his fingers along my jaw. “I want to be where you are. For always. As long as I have you, and Lida. I do not care where that is.”

“It’s fucking boring here.”

“So we will come and go . . . when you are able. But I do not think being bored is a bad thing for us, for a little while, no?”

“What about Jakov? You said he had shit to negotiate.”

“He does.” Viktor moved so he straddled my waist—a position he hadn’t put himself in since that time on his sunshine patio. “But I cannot help him with that. It is business now, not war, and I was a soldier.”

“Was?”

“It is done.”

Vik spoke as if it settled everything.

It didn’t, but he kissed me and I lost my train of thought, kissing him back, letting good and wicked sensations overwhelm me, consume me, until I was hard as a fucking rock and panting into his mouth. “I want you.”

“You can have me.” Viktor tossed his shirt and mine. “But you must behave. If you exert yourself, I will stop.”

A handjob. Or maybe taking me apart with his mouth. But as Vik stripped us, then returned to his position on top of me, I realised he meant something else, and a different fear bloomed in my chest. “You don’t have to⁠—”

He lay his hand over my mouth. His shaking hand. “I want to. Do you want it? To have me like this?”

“I want you, Vik. I love you.”

“I know. It is what makes me need all of you. Before . . . when we were together before the fight, it was all I could think about—all I did think about when my mind should have been on other things.”

“You were thinking about my dick while you were killing people?”

“Shh.” Vik shifted in a way that rolled my eyes. “I do not want to talk.”

He meant it, I could tell. All of it. And I was powerless to resist as he took control and showed me what he wanted. As he riled me up with his hands and mouth. With the slow grind of his hips. Until the moment came for him to take me inside him.

To choose me.

And fuck. Bullets hadn’t killed me. Neither had a head injury that had left me wanting to flush my skull through a waste disposal. But this . . . ?

Fuck.