“You’re pushin’ it, Mitch,” Neal growled.
Mitch laughed and made a kissy-face at Neal, then shut the door.
“If he wasn’t so good at his job, I swear, I’d fucking kick his ass into next week,” Neal grumbled, dropping his head against Sasha’s shoulder.
“Is he?”
“Is he what?”
“Good at his job?”
“You have no idea. Mitch is one of the best. It’s why I picked him for the unit. Come on, we can talk about my staffing decisions later. I want to talk to Felipe.”
Sasha rolled out of bed and grabbed the glass of water waiting for him on the bedside table. He drank it in one gulp, parched.
Neal slipped out, and Sasha brushed his hair. His stomach burned from throwing up, but not as hollow. He set the brush down, still not quite back to himself, and followed Neal out.
Carlos hovered in the kitchen area to watch the new jaguars, and Sasha could understand why. The five men ranging behind Felipe rivaled Steve and Mario in size. He faltered, unsettled, but Felipe turned as though having five gorillas around him were a normal occurrence.
Of course, maybe for the El Gatos, it was…
“How is Steve?” Felipe asked.
“Resting,” Sasha answered. “Gio’s with him. Thank you.”
Felipe shrugged, as if to say, “Yes, this is what I do every day.”
Maybe he did…
Sasha shook himself. “I need food and do you have any milk?”
“I’ll get it,” Carlos blurted, jumping up. He moved around the kitchen, banging open the fridge and various cabinets as he put a sandwich together.
Maybe Sasha wasn’t the only one with a case of nerves…
He sat across from Felipe and the other men turned to walk out. They moved without sound or conversation, as though he watched the shadows breathing. Cats hunted silently, but this unsettled him more than anything else he’d seen.
Felipe sat across from him. “I’m sorry, guapo. I didn’t think they’d shoot Steve in broad daylight.”
Sasha stared at him. “You were watching?”
The jaguar shrugged. “I told you. The Russians want you for what you did to Alyosha.”
He shivered. “I…”
Neal’s phone bleated and he excused himself to take it. His voice got steadily louder and more agitated, then he shouted, “Fine. They can have the fucking body back.”
He snapped the phone closed and stood, staring at his stove with his chest heaving.
“Neal?” Sasha called. “What happened?”
“They want the body.”
“From the fight?” Felipe asked.
Neal nodded and turned. “Can you take care of it?”
“Of course,” he said. He pulled out his phone and spoke in fast Spanish, then sat back.
“That’s all?” Sasha asked, expecting something more…dramatic, or something.
“Yes. What did you expect?”
“A smoking gun?” Neal murmured with a smirk.
“Shut up.”
Neal laughed. Carlos brought Sasha a messy pile of sandwich and chips, and then served Felipe and Neal. The sandwich tasted fantastic, despite its appearance, and the milk soothed Sasha’s throat.
“What did you put in this?” Neal demanded.
“Some of the chipotle paste and some Havarti,” Carlos answered. “Doc’s has roasted veggies, but I used the last of the sliced turkey for yours and Felipe’s.”
They ate in companionable silence, and Sasha finally started to relax. Paul appeared as he stuck the last bite in his mouth, and came up to Neal. He whispered something in his ear and Neal sighed.
“Send him in.”
Vadim walked in, his now familiar ice-blue eyes cold and empty. His gaze swept the room and Sasha chilled. Where Felipe and his men were soldiers, this man was a killer.
“Harrison. We have problem,” Vadim announced. He came over to stand by the empty chair nearest Neal. “You return body.”
“Yeah. So?”
“You do not understand what you do, I think,” Vadim said softly. He looked right at Sasha. “Or you.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Anger shot through him like lightening and he had trouble breathing. “Petya attacked me. He tried to—”
Neal caught his wrist and shook it. “Easy. I’ve got this.”
Sasha blinked at him, breathing hard. “I…”
“Let me handle this.”
He frowned, but motioned with his free hand. Vadim said nothing, just watched them.
“What’s the problem?” Neal asked.
“Petya is not soldier, Harrison. He is Pyotr Ivanovich. Ivan Andreievich’s son.”
Absolute silence greeted that announcement.
Maybe Sasha should consider going to Madison for a couple weeks…
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Home Front Frictions
After Vadim dropped his bombshell and left, Neal and the others debated ideas back and forth. Sasha could have kicked himself. Ivanovich meant “son of,” and he should have picked up that Petya was Ivan’s son. Vadim only ever called him Pyotr Ivanovich, and refused to use his nickname. The fact he was the boss’s son demanded formality.
Angry at himself, Sasha got up and started to head downstairs.
“Where are you going?” Neal demanded.
“Downstairs to sit with Steve.”
“Take Carlos.”
“Downstairs? Neal, it’s—”
“There are a bunch of Tribe tigers down there. Take Carlos.”
Sasha stared at him. He really wanted to argue, but he had a very good point.
Dammit.
“Fine.” He spun and stalked to the door and waited impatiently. Carlos hurried to join him, looking uncomfortable.
Neal murmured, “Be careful,” as Carlos approached.
“I can fucking walk down a flight of stairs.” Sasha whirled in front of the door.
“Doc…” Neal’s cinnamon gaze held his, the concern and frustration obvious. Instead of making him feel better, it pissed him off more and he stormed out of the room.
By the time they reached the apartment Steve and Carlos shared on the second floor, shame filled Sasha. They were all under a lot of stress, and his attitude hadn’t helped. Carlos left him to enter his own room while Sasha slipped into Steve’s.
Gio, the Latino jaguar, looked up when he entered.
“Thank you for watching over him,” Sasha whispered.
Standing, Gio smiled shyly and slipped out without speaking. After checking Steve’s vitals, Sasha sank into the big chair next to the bed. He pulled a large coffee table book of photography onto his lap and started to read.
Sasha started to full alertness, a strange scratching sound coming from the door. He frowned, rubbing his face. The odd sound happened again.
Steve stirred. “Come on in, Anton.” He looked over and met Sasha’s gaze. “Scratching instead of knocking is the old way, the tiger way.”
Sasha nodded, like he understood, but really didn’t. He stood and set the book on his chair as Anton entered. Sasha nodded to the Russian, and then stepped over to the bed. His eyes skimmed over Steve’s body, and pleasure flooded him at how well he looked. A healthy tone now shone under the chocolate skin and his gaze seemed alert. Sasha bent and quickly kissed him.
The faint sound of Anton clearing his throat interrupted the kiss. Sasha straightened, blushing.
Ignoring Steve’s disappointed sound, Sasha studied the older man that entered. Neal told him this tiger came from the home tribe. Even though Anton acted as chaperone for the two younger tigers, Misha and Leo, Sasha hadn’t spent much time with him yet.
Anton appeared to be in his early forties with nondescript brown hair. The pale but ruddy complexion reminded Sasha of relatives from his father’s side of the family. About six feet tall and sturdily built; he seemed rather bland when compared to the coiled energy and muscles of Neal and his men.
Sasha couldn’t dete
rmine his eye color since Anton kept his gaze lowered.
“Can I come in?” Even his voice, low and quiet, broadcasted hesitancy.
“Sure.” Steve waved him in.
Spying the brown take-out bag Anton carried, Sasha’s stomach rumbled. No smells wafted from the folded-down bag, but already his stomach, conditioned to Mario’s cooking, growled in anticipation. His stomach reminded him with a loud growl that he hadn’t touched the sandwich Carlos made him earlier, because of nerves. Now, though, his body seemed ready to eat the bag and its contents.
“You brought food,” Sasha told the older man. “I’m starving.”
“Share some with me,” Steve joked, even as he frowned.
“Sorry, I didn’t bring food.” The hazel eyes that flashed upward filled with contrition. “I used bag as camouflage.”
Anton handed Steve the bag, and Sasha watched with interest as Steve opened it. The big man grinned. “Shit. This is even better. Explains why it smelled funny.”
Steve pulled out a huge automatic handgun and two clips. Sasha could see the big Marine relax. Efficient movements checked the clip and slide. Seeming to notice Anton still hovering by the bed, Steve waved him to the other chair.
Sasha’s curiosity peaked. “Why hide it? Neal wouldn’t care.”
The hazel eyes rolled. “Next door is teaming with testosterone-loaded tigers, all tense and ready to fight. My carrying around a firearm they could see as a challenge. Without my status of tribe teacher to shield me, I do not need to give them an excuse to start trouble.”
“Go to Neal or Paul if they give you any grief,” Steve advised.
Anton shrugged. “I know I’m in odd position, one of the bachelor tribe but not really one of the unit. I do not want to get in the way.”
“You could hang out here,” Sasha offered.
Anton looked at Steve before adverting his gaze. “I do not want to make anyone uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay.” Steve sighed. “And it’s okay to look at me too. We don’t see direct eye contact as a challenge. Otherwise we’d all be smacking each other around constantly.”
“It is also a sign of respect.”
Sasha noted the slight chastising tone and hid his smile. In that instant he could picture Anton in the role of teacher.
“Well, you’re usually more relaxed around me. Are the others making you wiggy?”
“It is common for a hurt shifter, especially one that holds status, to be challenged when he is in a weakened condition.”
This time Sasha couldn’t hide his mirth. The older man practically reeked of disapproval. Sasha caught Steve hiding a grin behind a hand over his mouth. Sasha looked back at Anton, and the older man’s hazel eyes flashed amber like a cat’s eyes in a flashlight. Only there for an instant, the glimpse of Anton’s beast chilled him.
The image of Clark Kent floated to mind, with his glasses and the fact he hid in plain sight, but this man’s bland demeanor hid something far more scary. He looked closer at the muscles that packed the stocky frame. Used to Neal’s men, Sasha almost overlooked Anton’s strength.
Steve interrupted his reverie. “Well, since you did bring me a gun, I think you’re not out to get me.” His eyes widened. “Aw crap. That’s why Neal wants me tucked away over here.”
Anton smirked. “He does have enough to worry about.”
That caught Sasha’s attention. “Why? Now that he has more tigers, the challenge is even. Did something else happen?”
“Testosterone, remember?” Anton did another eye roll. “All the warrior tigers are mostly untried and do not dare test themselves against Boris. But Neal is an untried alpha in their opinion. Someone is bound to test him. Most likely Grig.”
“Who’s Grig?” Already Sasha didn’t like him.
“The home tribe’s third. He’s who Boris appointed leader of the visiting tigers.”
“Lovely,” Steve growled.
Sasha did as well, but with his stomach. Steve laughed as he flushed with embarrassment. It had been loud.
“I could get you something,” Anton offered. “I should have thought of it.”
“No that’s okay. In fact, if you don’t mind, you can keep Steve company and I’ll stretch my legs while I grab food.”
“Arrange for an escort,” Anton advised. “You would be an easy excuse to push Neal’s buttons.”
“He’s right, Doc,” Steve soothed. “Let me get on the radio. It’s not forever, just while they’re here.”
Sasha grumbled, but agreed. These new tigers better not be more trouble than they were worth.
“Hey, Doc,” TJ greeted in his soft voice.
Sasha got a quick impression of hazel green eyes and then TJ looked away. “Hi. I guess I need a babysitter.”
TJ’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. Sorry about that. These guys are a pain in the ass.”
He laughed, not expecting that.
“How you feelin’?” TJ asked Steve.
“Fantastic,” Steve said expansively. “I’ve got my own personal doctor, my own gun, and a goddamn bed. How the fuck you think I’m doing?”
TJ looked at Sasha. “Can’t you do something to fix his personality?”
Sasha’s eyes widened and he grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Anton.” TJ sounded neutral.
“Teej.”
TJ frowned, but didn’t comment on Anton’s use of his nickname. It surprised Sasha. With as traditional as Anton seemed to be, why use the intimate address now? The use of a nickname indicated either close friendship or a dominance relationship. Was Anton making a point to TJ?
TJ turned toward the door. “You ready?”
“I’m starving,” Sasha said.
“You can hear his stomach from across the street,” Steve agreed.
Sasha flushed with embarrassment. Lately all he seemed to be was hungry or sleepy. If this shit with the Russians didn’t finish soon, he feared becoming an overweight narcoleptic.
TJ laughed. “Well, we’d better fix that. Can’t have a hungry Doc on our hands, never know what he might do.”
“Funny,” Sasha snapped. “You guys want anything?”
“No, thanks, babe,” Steve responded.
Anton shook his head.
Sasha rubbed Steve’s leg by way of farewell and followed TJ out.
“Let me grab something,” TJ murmured, stopping at his apartment across the hall. “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”
Sasha nodded. “Sounds good.”
TJ’s grin flicked on and off and he slipped through the door. Stomach growling, Sasha continued downstairs to grab food. How bad could it be? TJ wouldn’t be long. Sasha refused to let these bullies scare him out of his own home.
The restaurant seemed full when he walked down the stairs. The new tigers made enough noise that it didn’t feel “closed for renovation”. As he paused a few steps from the bottom, several of the men turned to watch him. It didn’t seem like being watched at a bar. Instead, it reminded him of a gazelle on a plain full of predators.
Maybe he should have waited for TJ…
“Come on, Belii,” a voice rang out.
Belii was the Russian word for white and his heart sank. Sure enough, two men, obviously twins, blocked Dillon’s progress across the restaurant. Dillon’s eyes met his and Sasha clearly read the fear in them, even without the empathy.
“Come on, Belii,” a rough voice wheedled. “We want some relief.”
“Let go of me, Koyla.” Dillon sounded like he had tears in his voice.
Sasha started forward in time to see one of the twins grab Dillon’s shoulder.
“Hey,” Sasha shouted angrily.
Everyone froze.
“Doc,” Dillon cried, tears shining on his cheeks and his face flushed and angry. Poor guy cried when he was pissed, like Sasha.
Dillon wrenched himself free and streaked over to stand behind him. The huge man lumbered after him. Sasha’s anger carried him down the last steps and right up to the
big Russian.
“This your idea of manners, Kolya?” he snapped in Russian.
“He’s your relief, isn’t he?” Kolya protested. “We only wanted to mess around.”
His twin came up, eyes wide and confused. “Yeah. We weren’t gonna hurt him.”
Five of the home tribe tigers clustered around him, blocking him from moving deeper into the room or retreating back upstairs. His stomach tightened. “You can’t treat him like that,” he told them firmly.
“What about you?” Kolya asked, reaching out to stroke his hair.
Sasha slapped his hand away. “Fuck off.”
“Doc…” Dillon said urgently.
He turned his head in time to see a big man stalk out of the men’s room and look over. Their eyes met. The big Russian’s cold blue eyes, like chips of glass or glacier ice, widened and he smiled. This must be Grig.
Fuck.
“Dillon, go upstairs. TJ’s up there,” Sasha ordered.
Dillon started up but Kolya caught his arm. The werefox pulled back but Kolya tightened his grip and yanked the smaller man completely off the stair to land in a heap at his feet. Several of the others laughed. Dillon stared up at him, his eyes huge and glassy, and held his arm like it pained him.
“What the fuck?” TJ’s shout echoed through the restaurant from the landing above. He put a hand down and vaulted clear down the entire flight of stairs to land on his feet next to Sasha. He spun and landed a heavy kick in the center of Kolya’s chest. The heavier man flew away to land in a pile of limbs near Grig. TJ whipped forward and the other twin stumbled away, blood spattering his chin from his nose.
Grig roared something inarticulate and started forward. Sasha stepped between him and TJ. “Stop.” He threw his arms up. “This is stupid. Stop!”
Grig smirked and glared own at him. “Stupid, huh?”
Sasha switched to Russian. “You don’t need to do that. You have what you want already, back off.”
“Doc…” TJ groaned. “Shut up.”
“No, Doc, keep going,” Grig purred.
TJ sighed and stepped in front of Sasha. “Fine. You wanna dance, let’s dance.”
Burning Bright Page 19