Chapter 14 - Vlad

Emory had clearly seen enough of the house—and my brothers—to last her a lifetime. There had been a lot of conversation about what exactly we intended to do with the Italians tracking us and why we couldn't settle for turning them into the police.

This was mainly because we couldn't have the police sniffing around our business since my brothers and I weren't exactly on the "right" side of the law either.

Still, it was the middle of the night, and aside from Adley and Ivan, who had a baby to take care of, there was zero reason that we should be awake right now. Getting back to bed sounded like a damn plan to me, and I thoroughly over the conversation anyway. I was exhausted and knew Emory was right there with me, considering what we'd just been doing before her apartment was broken into.

Shit. I need to tell Ivan about my phone.

I paused before pulling Emory along to my room, bumping Ivan's arm with my elbow to get his attention. When he looked at me, I mimed the symbol for the phone and went with the old slit throat option to signal it was done for.

"No more burner, huh? Can you remote wipe it?"

I nodded.

"Good. Well, we'll get you a new one in the morning. Get some rest."

My brother pulled me closer, whispering in my ear as I looked over at Emory to see her hide a yawn behind her hand.

"You need to think about what you want to do with her now that she's seen the house. I'm not pushing you in any direction. Still, you need to consider how much you trust her with the information and what that means in terms of your relationship with her."

I yanked my arm away, nodding at Ivan as I rolled my eyes. Yes, Dad. I'm very aware of what I've gotten myself into.

Ivan eyed me for another moment but then went back to dealing with his kid, which was good. He needed to be focusing on bottles and burping, not my damned love life—or lack thereof.

Walking back toward Emory, I gestured with my head toward the stairs and then held out a hand for her to get moving.

"You're lucky I'm too tired to keep arguing with you. Ugh." She yawned again, which was way more adorable than I wanted to admit, and shuffled toward the stairwell. "Which floor?"

As I followed behind her, I tapped her twice on the shoulder.

"Two. Great."

When we reached the second-floor landing, I took Emory's shoulders and angled her toward the hall to my room. She picked up on the instructions well enough and stared down the hallway to my room. It was at the end of the corridor, which was the only place for it, really, considering the hallway only offered a few feet of solid walls not made from glass.

I opened things up for her and held the door wide so that Emory could step inside. She let out a little puff of air as soon as she did.

"Oh."

Slipping inside, I locked the door behind me and walked to the low bed to toss the duffle bag down. When I turned to face Emory, her eyebrows were raised as she surveyed my room. I cocked a brow at her as her gaze returned to me, silently asking, "What?"

"I, umm, I just didn't expect it to be so…"

Empty?

"Minimalist."

Chuckling, I was amused by Emory's tact when it came to describing the nearly non-descript space. I knew it didn't have much aside from the bed, bookshelf, and nightstand, but that's how I liked it. I wasn't here for frivolous decorations and an overuse of color.

I shrugged when Emory considered me again, then reached up to take off the scrubs shirt that I was still rocking. It was comfortable enough, but changing into one of my old tees was a must—mostly because green was not my color.

If it ain't black, you can take it back.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Emory pulled off the sneakers she'd thrown on and then pulled her legs under herself to sit cross-legged on the side I usually used. I wasn't about to make a big deal out of it, so I just padded over to the closet to pull on a black tank and some boxers.

When I returned, Emory was still sitting in the exact same spot, looking off into the distance.

She's upset. You should…ugh, fuck it.

I circled the bed to sit down next to her on the other side, pointing at the nightstand and miming "phone" again.

"Oh, I suppose I should charge it, yeah. Thanks."

Emory reached into the slim pocket of her leggings and pulled out her cell, plugging it in so the battery wouldn't die overnight. There was also a pad of paper and a pen on the nightstand. I used them to jot down my thoughts or questions for my brothers that could wait until morning.

Right now, it was empty, so when Emory picked it up, I was relieved that there was nothing for her to find.

"I have a notepad like this for during sessions."

The comment was off-handed, and Emory didn't seem to be really paying attention to what she said or where she was. Her tiredness was definitely getting to her.

"Are you really going to kill those men tracking us?"

My stomach clenched as she looked up at me from staring at the paper. Emory handed the thing to me, along with the pen. I sighed as I took it. She already knew the answer, and I wasn't keen on having another drawn-out argument about this—especially via paper.

Still…

I scribbled a response, holding up the notepad for Emory to read.

"It's how it's done in my world. I know that's not what you want to hear, but they will keep coming if they're not dealt with. I'm positive. Staying here while my brothers and I deal with it will be the best option. You won't be safe out there with me or at your place."

She scoffed as she finished reading my message, and then Emory pulled her knees up against her chest. It was a nervous habit of hers, an attempt to shield herself from the situation.

"Yeah, I'm not looking to go out there with you while you have a shootout with a bunch of Italian mafia guys. No thanks. I just wish there was a less violent solution. And yeah, I get what you're saying, but it doesn't mean I have to like it."

The room hung in silence, and I dropped the paper pad to the bed. Neither one of us was budging on this one, and it looked like we were both shit at compromise—at least right now. I had a feeling that Emory was probably much more flexible when it came to stuff that didn't involve breaking the law.

"And you know, I still don't know why I can't just go to a friend's place or something. Yeah, I know it can't be somewhere like my parents, but what about…I don't know, Antoinette's? Who'd look for me there?"

So we're not done talking about this then.

Snagging the paper and pen again, I hastily wrote a reply to her questions. I understood, on some intellectual, common-sense level, that she had a right to ask, to know the ins and outs of the situation. But every other part of me was just annoyed that I needed to explain all this.

Most of the time, I wasn't the brains behind the operation, and I wasn't used to having to run every plan or decision by someone else. Chronically single was the name of the game, and this concept of deliberating with a "partner" was a hard pill to swallow.

Not that Emory's my partner or girlfriend or anything of the sort.

Passing over the notepad to Emory, I stood up off the bed while she read it over.

"I personally don't want to risk you or someone else because you decided to stay somewhere the Italians might look. And yeah, they might look here, but at least you'll be in a house with three men capable of handling whatever they dish out. I'm feeling a little stir-crazy, though, so I'm going downstairs. Stay put."

I wasn't looking back at Emory as I moved toward the door, but I could hear her scoff under her breath. Rolling my eyes to myself, I shook my head just slightly. I was aware that I'd probably piss her off with the end of that note, but I didn't really care right now. I was trying to help her, for fuck's sake, and the least she could do was just trust me about this since I was the expert this time.

"Sure, you get to leave," Emory grumbled under her breath, but I didn't pay it any mind, way too intent on getting downstairs and out of the conversation.

But when I got there, I was less than thrilled to see that Ivan and Abe were both still up and talking about what to do regarding the Italians in the living room. Grace and Adley were long gone, which meant I had the joy of dealing with my brothers without the "baby buffer."

I'm not a kid person, but damn, she does keep those two from flipping out as much.

I had nearly snuck back up to the second floor to hang out in the library area when Ivan chimed up.

"Hey, not so fast. Get down here."

Sighing, I hung my head, realizing I had little choice but to listen to him. Fucking older brothers and their bullshit.

Walking over, I took up a spot leaning against one of the thick support beams in the glass walls. They separated the panels and helped to hold up the entire house.

"I have to say, Vlad," Ivan started, "I'm fucking shocked that you actually brought your shrink back to the house. I thought you didn't like her and weren't going to go anymore."

Ivan was leaving me with few options when it came to communicating with him. He knew I'd lost my damn phone, and it wasn't like the house was littered with pads of paper.

Ugh, I should've learned sign language.

Stalking toward him, I snatched his phone off the arm of the couch and quickly downloaded the TalkBack feature to his keyboard and messaging app. Ivan had the gall actually to chuckle to himself, and Abe was always a barrel of fucking monkeys when it came to my refusal to speak.

I really do hate them sometimes.

But after a few moments, I'd typed up a message and had the phone read it off, returning to my spot against the support beam while it played.

"I'm not going back, and it's not like that. I was shot for fuck's sake, and I happened to be right near her office. It seemed like the best move at the time. I didn't expect to see the fucking Italians at the same damn hospital Emory took me to."

"Emory, huh? Well, you should tell your dick that you don't like her because he's leading the charge right now."

Abe's assessment—while technically speaking not incorrect—was a kick to the sack, and I was so ready just to clock the asshole. It seemed like it would be much easier to fight him instead of having this stupid convo about my feelings.

Because I didn't have any.

Ivan scoffed, just as annoyed with Abe as I was. "Christ, Abe. Just try being a person for once. You know? Maybe take a few seconds to process before the words fly out of your mouth?"

Abe just shrugged, leaning back against the armchair he was using and crossing his legs. His ankle rested on his other knee, and I was so damn tempted to kick the damn thing out from under him. He looked so damn smug, and I'd had it up to here with his fucking attitude.

"Nah. I'm good. Besides, it's not me who needs the wake-up call." Abe swiveled his gaze over to me. "You're as bad as Ivan was, Vlad. And methinks you just need to admit you've got a thing for the chick so that we can just be done with it."

I rolled my eyes, going back to the phone and typing up a message for the TalkBack.

"Need I remind you both, the Italians fucking shot me. I think I have every right to want a little retaliation. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Where's that righteous family rage?"

Ivan ducked his head, the corners of his mouth turning down.

"Oh, trust me. They'll fucking pay, little brother. But unfortunately , Abe has a point. You need to admit that you wouldn't have gone to Emory or brought her here if you didn't have feelings for her."

I really wasn't in the mood to have this conversation, or the one I'd left upstairs, for that matter. So, it looked like my options for the evening were pretty limited. I was content to fuck off to the library upstairs, but we needed to discuss a plan for tracking our targets down.

After a quick response, I let TalkBack change the subject for me. "So, how are we going to find these guys? Do you have any leads or anything about where the Italians are holding up these days?"

Rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, Ivan adjusted in his seat. As he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, I could see the gears in his head switch, flipping to threat assessment mode.

"Yeah, I've got some ideas." Ivan gestured at the other armchair that wasn't holding Abe's dumb ass. "Why don't you have a seat?"

I had no choice, really, but anything was better than going back to that room with Emory and being cooped up in there with her arguing.

At least…that's what I told myself.