Mario shook his head. “You need to catch them here eating before the restaurant closes and switches to the club. Better yet, come out with me.”
“Don’t really want to hook up with a stripper and catch some weird disease after surviving getting the beasties.”
“Shut up. She was a nice girl.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up. I’m not one of your busboys.”
“Like I’d let you work in my kitchen, you pussy.” Mario pointed at his ass. “Kiss it, a-hole.”
“Not me, ask Doc.”
“Busy eating, keep me outta this,” Sasha protested, laughing.
“You’re such—” Paul broke off as static erupted from the radio clipped to his belt.
Sasha couldn’t understand the garbled words but Paul jumped up from the table. “Carlos says there’s activity in the alley, caught our new buddies pissing on the building.”
Sasha blinked, that presented an odd mental picture. Mario looked grim and headed for a cabinet.
“God dammit,” Paul shouted from the door to the kitchen. “Neal!”
“What? I’m busy,” Neal yelled back from his office.
“Russians!” Paul sped down the narrow hallway between the kitchen and the office.
In a flurry of motion, the office door flew open and Neal appeared, beating Sasha to the alley door.
“Stay back,” Paul and Neal both yelled at him while bolting outside.
“Not a chance,” Sasha shot back.
The alley stretched, quiet and empty, but shouts came from the end near the street. He slowed down as he approached the men gathered at the mouth of the alley. Petya and Iosef squared off with Carlos and Paul. Petya glanced over and their eyes met. The Russian grinned slowly, his expression arrogant.
“Devochka.”
Sasha’s hands tingled and he wished he had a weapon. Prickles went up and down his neck and his heartbeat thudded against his chest. Gods, it would feel good to beat the shit out of these two.
Neal approached the two Russians and they backed up.
Paul whipped forward while Petya’s and Iosef’s attention centered on Neal. Paul moved too fast for Sasha’s eyes to follow. Petya flew sideways into the fence and slid down, dazed. Paul rounded on Iosef and the big Russian bolted.
“You’ll pay for Alyosha.” Petya rolled to his feet in a fluid motion and sprinted after Iosef.
“Pussies,” Carlos shouted.
Sasha laughed.
Neal rounded on him. “I told you to stay inside.”
“So?”
Carlos squeaked, trying to keep from laughing. Neal glared at him and he backed away, hands up.
“I’m your lover, not your employee, Neal,” Sasha said, keeping his voice down.
“They could have had a gun.”
Sasha went cold. “Oh.”
Neal snorted, a soft puff of air. “Oh.”
“Dude,” Carlos shouted.
They turned as one, but Carlos hadn’t addressed them. Sasha craned his head around to see Paul pissing on the bricks. Paul finished and turned, catching all three of them watching. His hands stopped tucking his package away.
“I’m covering their scent.” Paul grinned, eyes twinkling.
“Watch. The cops’ll show up now,” Sasha muttered.
“You’re just teasin’ us,” Carlos complained.
Hearing a step behind him, Sasha turned to find an unfamiliar bouncer. This must be TJ. The big man held an enormous pistol in one hand. TJ’s eyes flicked to Sasha and then the Marine spun to stalk back inside without speaking, walking past Mario, who stood in the doorway with his assault rifle.
“That’s TJ,” Neal murmured.
“I guessed.” Sasha shivered, unsettled.
“Come on. Let’s go back in. Do you wanna hang out in my office while I finish the paperwork? Keep me company?”
“Sounds good.”
Neal hooked an arm around his shoulders and they walked back together.
Chapter Fifteen
Vadim’s Visit
Sasha curled up on the couch in Neal’s office, with more snacks from Mario piled on the end table. He tried to concentrate on reading, but his eyes kept straying back to Neal’s face. Smooth-shaven from that morning, Neal’s cheekbones stood out in the sharp planes of his face. His cinnamon-brown gaze narrowed periodically at the numbers on his screen, and then he’d type with firm movements.
Sasha shook himself, pulling his attention back to his book and the same paragraph he’d read three times. It made no more sense the fourth time he tried.
A light knock startled him and he yanked his gaze back to his book, feeling like he got caught in the act.
“Sarge, we’ve got a problem,” Carlos announced. “One of the Russians is here.”
Sasha shot upright.
“Petya? Here?” Neal growled.
“No. It’s Ivan’s second banana.”
“Vadim.”
“Yeah, him. What do you want me to do?”
“What’s he doing?”
“Eating lunch.”
Neal stared at him. Carlos fidgeted with his hair and then put his hand down.
“Have Steve bring him in. Keep an eye on the outside. These guys are like cockroaches; where there’s one, there’s more.”
Carlos nodded and stepped out. Before Sasha could get his shoes on, Steve appeared. The man that walked in with him made Sasha’s blood run cold. Blond hair swept back from a wide forehead, light gel holding it in place. Cold blue-grey eyes, like moonstone only less friendly, flicked to Sasha and then dismissed him.
That pissed him off. He let the anger flood him; it chased some of his apprehension away.
“You’re back.” Neal’s voice came out cold enough to frost glass.
Steve closed the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “Walked in the front door, bold as brass.”
Vadim shrugged. “Next time, maybe I use window.”
Neal snorted. “What do you want?”
“Ivan wants to apologize. Pyotr Ivanich acted without his authorization.”
Sasha’s eyes widened. Vadim used Petya’s formal name and patronymic, just like an old-fashioned house servant or something out of a Russian movie. It told him another thing as well, that Vadim and Petya were not close friends. He wished he could tell Neal mind-to-mind, but he’d just have to wait until Vadim left.
“Apologize.” Neal cocked his head. He glanced at Sasha, like a neon sign blinked over the bruises on his face.
Vadim’s eyes flicked to Sasha and back. “Disrupting your business was unfortunate.”
“His business,” Sasha burst out, fury sheeting through him.
Vadim smirked but kept his eyes on Neal. “Perhaps we should talk alone. We have business to discuss, you and I.”
Sasha glared.
“He stays,” Neal grated. “Speak your piece.”
Vadim turned his head and stared at Steve. Sasha could see the black tattoos peeking out of the Russian’s collar. He wore an undershirt, hiding the rest of the designs like a holstered gun, but Sasha recognized Mafia body art.
“He stays, I stay,” Steve purred.
Shit. Sasha didn’t want Steve to get in a fight because of his stubbornness. He started to move but Neal shook his head slightly. Sasha froze.
“Ivan Andreievich is not a patient man.” Vadim faced Neal again.
“Neither am I.” Neal’s eyes narrowed. “You attack my patrons, watch my business… Give me one good reason why I don’t shoot you myself, as a message to Ivan.”
“You don’t want a war.”
Neal stared at the man standing in the middle of the room, every appearance of calm. He rose slowly and leaned on his desk, fingers tented. “I don’t?”
Sasha was impressed. Vadim showed no sign of fear, though his heartbeat jumped against the skin of his throat. “Ivan will accept a treaty if you make several of our men into tigers.”
Sasha gasped. Vadim’s eyes flicked to his before the Russian
returned his attention to Neal.
“No.” Neal’s voice came out flat, authoritative.
“Ivan will bring in other allies if needed. Tigers are not the top of the totem pole.” His blue-grey eyes seemed cautionary suddenly. “You don’t want that.”
Neal stood to his full height, the muscles of his chest sharply defined against the dark red rayon shirt. “I’ve been dealing with punks like you and Ivan since I moved in. First the gangs, then the Asians, and now you. If you think you can intimidate me, you’re in the wrong century.” He paused. “I will bury you.”
Vadim sighed. He held Neal’s gaze without moving and then turned on one heel. He said nothing, just walked out.
“Make sure he leaves,” Neal told Steve.
“What did he mean, other means?” Sasha demanded. “Totem poles?”
“Probably more guys.” Neal sat down. “I need to call Boris. Dammit.”
When Neal said nothing else, Sasha rose and went around his desk. He leaned against it, his leg against Neal’s, and stroked the big man’s face. “Talk to me.”
Neal sighed and sat back in his chair, scooting so his thigh pressed against Sasha’s leg. “You remember who Boris is, right?”
“He’s the guy up north, heads the Troika, right?”
Neal nodded. “He told me to call him if Ivan threatened to muscle in. I didn’t want to, but if he really makes a move on us, we don’t have enough men.” He hesitated. “Also, Vadim is threatening to bring in other lycanthropes. But Boris will help us.”
“Then call him.”
Neal scratched his forehead, the heavy signet ring he wore flashing as his fingers moved. “I just…”
“You don’t want to depend on him.”
Neal gazed at him. “Yeah.”
“This isn’t. This is calling in reinforcements. It’s not like they have to stay.”
“That’s just it. They want to. Boris wants a reason to challenge me.”
“I’ll kill him for you, then.”
Neal’s eyes widened. “What?”
Sasha leaned over, watching Neal’s eyes dilate as he got close. He kissed the big man’s nose. “Tell him. It’ll confuse him long enough for you to get the drop on him.” He straightened and went over to Neal’s mini fridge. “You want a soda?”
“Coke, and when did you get this bloodthirsty?”
Sasha shrugged. “Maybe I’ve always been.” He handed over the Coke. “You gonna call him?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Neal sighed.
“There’s something else, though,” Sasha mused. “Vadim called Petya ‘Pyotr Ivanich’. That’s Petya’s formal name, not his nickname. That’s a big deal to traditional Russians and it tells us something about them. I don’t think Vadim likes or agrees with Petya.”
Neal grunted but didn’t argue. The couch sighed when Sasha sat on it, a soft puff of air. Neal watched him and then typed something on his PC. He dialed the phone and sat back.
Sasha needed to go to the can and slipped out. When he returned, Neal finished his phone call and sat, staring out the window. Sasha walked over and cupped his face with one hand.
“You all right?”
Neal nodded. “Yeah. He’s planning on sending guys down, they’ll be available when I need them. But that’s not the problem. Mitch is missing.”
Sasha frowned. “Mitch.”
“Yeah.” Neal glanced at him. “He’s one of us, but went up to the Troika because Boris lets him play with his tiger. But he came back to Chicago. He told Boris he’d come to me, but I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks.”
“You think something happened?”
“To Mitch? No. I think he’s a fucking smartass and is lying.”
“Oh.” Sasha stroked Neal’s cheek. “Is that a problem?”
“I wish…” He trailed off and seemed to see Sasha for the first time. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs. I’m hungry.”
Sasha blinked. “Are you serious?”
Neal stood. “Yeah. Why not?”
“I figured you had more work to do down here.”
“I’m done. Come on, I’ll make you something to eat.”
The door to Neal’s office opened almost before Neal stopped talking. Steve stepped in. “Hey, Sarge.”
“Is he out of here?”
“He left. Had a driver outside in a Beemer. No one else that we could see.”
Neal grunted but didn’t say anything else right away. Steve met Sasha’s gaze, his lips parted. Sasha smiled and Steve’s eyes deepened and looked heavy-lidded, as though the other man remembered last night.
Desire to do it again filled Sasha.
But would Neal understand? It wasn’t like he wasn’t satisfied with the big man, but he liked more than one partner.
“What’s up, Doc?” Steve murmured.
“Huh?” He flushed. “Nothing.”
Neal stirred. “You hungry, Steve-O? I’m gonna make Doc some lunch. You wanna come up?”
Steve, holding Sasha’s gaze but speaking to Neal, said, “Sure. That sounds like a good idea.”
Sasha blushed harder and stepped into the hallway. The other two men followed him to the elevator. He could feel Steve’s gaze on him like something physical. He glanced back and their eyes met. Heat bloomed in his chest as his empathy awakened. He tried to keep his breathing calm as he walked into Neal’s apartment.
“Doc?” Neal asked from in front of him.
Sasha whipped his head around and stopped short of walking into him. “Yeah?”
Neal frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing, why?” Sasha couldn’t ask if it was okay to go snuggle against Steve and give him the hug and kiss he wanted to, or more. What if last night had been a one-off? After the seriousness of Vadim’s visit his sex life wasn’t the priority.
Neal chuckled. “Sure. Sit down. Here, you want a soda?”
“Iced tea would be better.”
“You and your iced tea obsession.” Neal handed him a glass of the mango tea from the restaurant. “I figured you’d go for that again.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
Neal gave him a look somewhere between a frown and a smirk. “What is up with you?”
“Nothing.” He tried to regain his composure.
Carlos knocked and walked in. “Hey. Teej said you guys were up here. Vadim mentioned something about other guys. What did he mean?”
Neal sighed and rummaged in the fridge. “I don’t know. And that bothers me.”
“What about Mitch?” Steve asked.
“Boris said Mitch told him he was coming back to Chicago, that he checked in with me.”
“God damned fuck-up.” Carlos took a long sip.
Neal regarded him with some surprise. “Mitch is cool.”
“He’s a lying sack of shit, boss,” Carlos snapped, leaning against the fridge door.
“You’re just pissed ‘cause he wouldn’t fuck you,” Steve murmured.
Carlos flushed and straightened.
“Enough,” Neal snapped. “This isn’t helping anything.”
Carlos glared at him but settled back.
“Now what?” Steve asked.
“We need more information.” Neal blew out his breath. “We need to know what Ivan is planning.”
“I’ll get on it,” Carlos said. “TJ’s already checking into stuff.”
“You need to be careful.” Steve pointed at Sasha.
“You’re kidding. What the fuck do I have to do with anything?” Sasha threw up his hands. “I’m not a tiger.”
“Yeah, but you smell like us,” Steve countered. “Be careful.”
“Okay. I won’t go around any alleyways with catnip hanging out of my pockets.”
Carlos chuckled. “We don’t really have anything else right now, Sarge.”
Sasha got an idea. “What if I do that?”
“Do what?” Carlos asked.
“Go around alleyways? Metaphorically. But they probably have hangouts, right? Wh
at if I—”
“Fuck no,” Neal shouted.
Sasha stared at him, startled at his vehemence. “Why not?”
“It’s too dangerous. These guys are mob thugs, not magical bad guys. You may be a Guardian, but they play for keeps.”
“Yeah.” Frustration loomed. “I get it.”
“I’m not saying you’re not plenty capable,” Neal soothed. “But these guys are the shoot first, talk later types. Don’t forget what you did to Alyosha. They want your blood, Doc.”
He had forgotten Alyosha. That made him feel better, actually. “I guess that’s a good point.”
Steve looked at Neal. “We need to grab Paul and have another pow-wow. Especially if more tigers are coming.”
“Yeah,” Carlos agreed. Then he frowned. “Where are we going to even put them or feed them?”
Sasha sat there like the fifth wheel as the other three men waited for Paul and Mario to join them. Dealing with the two run-ins with the Russians, as well as trying to decide if he should bring up multiple partners this early in a new relationship, seemed to fight for attention in his mind. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted multiple partners right now. How should he act around Carlos and Steve? He didn’t want to offend Neal. He rubbed his face, a headache starting. Food didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.
“I should get going. I’ve got to run some errands and clean my apartment.”
Neal looked over at him, clearly startled. “Okay, if that’s what you need to do. I’ll walk you to your truck.”
“See you soon,” Steve said firmly, though he didn’t reach for Sasha or make any other physical move.
“Drive safe,” Carlos added.
They didn’t talk much on the way down. Sasha could hear TJ explaining the installment schedule of the new cameras over the radio. They reached the alley before Sasha could think of anything to say. He had no idea what the right thing would be.
“Next time you visit,” Neal told him, “call first so you don’t come in alone. We need to tighten things up even more.”
The concern in Neal’s voice warmed him. Waiting for the parking lot gate to roll back, Neal hooked a hand around Sasha’s neck, pulling him close. Sasha opened his mouth for Neal’s tongue as it swept in.
After a few seconds he couldn’t care less about Russians, or his chores. Maybe laundry could wait…
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