Catching Fire (The Fire Duet Book 2)

by Billie Lustig

  “Are you sure I can’t help, Babushka?” I smile.

  Her once blonde hair is now a gorgeous silver-gray that shines bright in the sun. The skin on her face is tanned from the Greek sun, and if you don’t know better, it’s easy to believe she’s been living here her entire life, instead of being used to the cold winters in Russia. She lives in a beautiful home on the top of a hill, the outside walls painted white while the window frames are an iconic Greek blue.

  When Kane and I walked into her front yard six months ago, I was nervous as fuck.

  I’d had no clue what to expect. She didn’t have a phone, so she had no clue we were coming, and I didn’t even know if she knew of my existence.

  But the second she opened the door, her eyes beamed in recognition, and she pulled me into her arms, giving me the unconditional love that only family can provide.

  I cried.

  In fact, I cried like a fucking baby, sobbing in her arms for at least ten minutes.

  All the woman did was shed one tear, showing me her warrior heart.

  ‘We don’t grieve the past. We are here now,’ she told me when I finally didn’t have any tears left. She welcomed us into her home without any further questions, and we stayed for three days, sleeping on a creaking twin bed that barely fit us.

  We didn’t fit in it at all, actually.

  Kane cursed like a poked bear every night.

  I laughed my ass off.

  “No, you sit, malyshka.” She waves her hand in the air, telling me to stay in my seat.

  I smile at her choice of endearment, loving how she keeps calling me her little girl.

  She puts the basket of bread on the table while she glances towards the rear of the backyard to where Kane stands. He is looking down over the little town at the bottom of the hill, staring at the Aegean sea with his phone against his ear. Liam is sitting across the table with Imogen next to him, both of them grabbing a piece of bread out of the basket the moment she sets it down.

  They’ve become friends over the last few months. They were basically forced to put up with each other because, well; she is my family and Liam is Kane’s. But over the last few months, they’ve been bickering less every day.

  I shake my head, looking at them.

  “What?!” Imogen mumbles, her mouth full.

  “You guys are so alike, do you know that?”

  “How the fuck are we alike?” Liam frowns after swallowing his bread down.

  I have a whole list of examples, but exhaustion hits my body, and I let out a yawn while bringing my hand in front of my mouth to cover it before I reach my arms up to stretch out my body.

  “Da, growing a child makes you very tired.”

  I snap my head towards my babushka with wide eyes, shocked by the words coming from her mouth, perfectly aware that Liam and Imogen can hear every one of them.

  “W-what?” I stutter, trying to keep a straight face while glancing at Liam, who’s gazing at me in shock, his mouth open with a piece of bread still on his tongue.

  My grandma cocks an eyebrow, giving me a reprimanding look which has me wanting to cower under her intense blue eyes. I’ve known the woman for only a few short months, but she is one tough cookie.

  She would’ve probably slapped me over the head multiple times if she had met the sixteen-year-old Callie, and even Kane blurts out less snarky comments when she’s around.

  “You really think I don’t know?” she asks in her thick Russian accent, a look on her face that is daring me to lie to her and face the consequences.

  “How did you know?” I hiss incredulously.

  I look at Kane from the corner of my eye, making sure he doesn’t hear me.

  “Holy crap!” Liam shouts. “I fucking knew something was up when you denied that glass of perfectly fine whiskey.” He gives me a knowing look, and I purse my lips, busted as fuck.

  “You’re shitting me, right?” Imogen whispers with a shocked face.

  I knew that whiskey thing was going to give it away.

  My hands instinctively move to my belly in a protective way. I’ve only known a few days, and I haven’t told Kane yet. I don’t know how to fucking tell him. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t noticed that I haven’t touched any alcohol lately.

  It’s not like we are the typical lovey-dovey couple with a picket white fence and a Labrador, waiting until we ‘crown our love with a baby.’

  Yeah, that ain’t us.

  We fucking negotiate with the scum of the world on a daily basis. Not exactly the best people to have around a baby. Hell, we don’t even have a house. We’ve been living back and forth between the yacht and his houses, located all over the world. We’ve never even discussed settling down in one place.

  I glance down at the ring on my finger.

  We are married, but normal rules don’t apply for us. I don’t even know what kind of marriage we have, let alone what kind of parents we may be. Although I can’t deny that the idea of a mini Kane running around makes me smile. Even if our lives are unconventional as fuck.

  “AAH, Callie!” Imogen screeches, jumping from her seat while clapping like a damn seal.

  “Will you sit your ass down, I haven’t told him,” I hiss with a scowl, noticing Kane sauntering towards our table.

  “Well, now is as good a time as any,” Babushka suggests, not even trying to hide her joy.

  “What’s going on?” Kane looks confused by the bright smiles on everyone’s faces. Everyone but me, that is. When he sits down next to me, I can feel his gaze on me. I know he’s waiting for me to face him, but I keep my eyes moving back and forth between the three traitors, smiling back at me like idiots.

  I press my lips together, feeling my nostrils flare as I suck in a deep breath.

  “You all suck! You know that, right?” I glare, mostly at Liam and Imogen.

  Kane lets out an impatient sigh next to me, turning his focus to his brother.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  Liam continues to flash his teeth at his brother while I scowl at him in silent warning.

  “Callie needs to tell you something, brother,” he says before he tugs on Imogen’s arm. “Come on, let’s go inside.” They both get up, looking giddy as fuck as they walk back into the house followed by my babushka.

  When Kane moves his hand to my neck, I close my eyes at his touch, already knowing he’s going to turn my head towards his.

  “Open your eyes, baby. Baby,” he rumbles, a bit annoyed that I don’t respond.

  I suck in a deep breath before I open my eyes and show him a sweet smile.

  “What’s going on?” he repeats while I look into his arctic eyes, thinking he would’ve been such a cute boy when he was younger.

  I feel a flutter race through my stomach while my hands grow damp, nervous about his reaction. I know there is no way to avoid telling him. It won’t take long before he’ll notice.

  Oh, what the hell.

  “I’m pregnant,” I blurt.

  My eyes pan back and forth, waiting for any change in his eyes, having absolutely no clue what to expect.

  Will he throw a knife at my head?

  Will he be ecstatic?

  “Say something,” I command, my nerves instantly fraying at his lack of words after I just told him basically the most important thing in fucking ever.

  He clenches his jaw, clearly pissed as fuck, before he slams his mouth against mine while his free hand fists my hair in a possessive way.

  “I just let you taunt some Italian fucker while you are fucking pregnant?” he growls to my face.

  Realizing what he said, I can’t help but smile against his lips and nod.

  “If you fucking do that again in the next nine months, I will pick you up, throw you on that yacht, and make sure we don’t hit the shore until that baby is born.” The energy radiating off of him is definitely angry, but his words make me throw back my head in laughter. “I fucking mean it, Callie.”

  I laugh even harder, screeching
in joy.

  “You fucking asshole! That’s what you’re angry about? Here I am, thinking you may not even want me to keep it.”

  “Why the fuck wouldn’t I want to keep it? It’s yours. It’s mine. It’s ours.” He frowns.

  My heart melts at his revelation, realizing that this is exactly how I wanted him to react.

  “What kind of parents will we be?” I whisper, with a serious tone in my voice.

  He smiles, brushing his lips against mine.

  “The kind of parents that will teach our kid to throw knives and kick ass.”

  The fucking end.

  Want a bonus scene featuring Kane and Callie?

  CLICK HERE

  If you are sad this is the end for Callie & Kane, don’t worry. The Boston Wolfes are ready to protect their empire, crush your heart, and put it back together when they are done with it. Click the wolf to PRE-ORDER now.

  * * *

  Turn the page for the opening chapter of Franklin.

  Franklin: Chapter One

  I lean against the doorpost of his office, my hands in the pocket of my coat, examining him while he’s hovering above some papers with a pen in his hand. His greasy gray hair flops in front of his face when he draws the occasional line as he keeps reading the words in front of him.

  There was a time I respected this man. He helped me get us where we Wolfes are now, but I guess somewhere along the road he decided we weren’t good enough anymore.

  Shame.

  “Good evening, David.”

  He looks up with a slight frown, before leaning back in his desk chair, his mouth curling in a friendly grin.

  “Franky! Social call?” He beams, referring to the nights I used to crash his office and we would talk about the best ways to do business. I think back to those nights, when moments of weakness came in, making me believe that he was my friend. That trust is not solely a thing I can expect from my brothers. That I can form connections with people I don’t share blood with.

  Silly me.

  I match his smile, amused by his oblivion, clearly unaware that I’m not alone. I saunter into the room, my leather shoes tapping against the hardwood floor with every step I make. He holds my gaze in anticipation until he notices my brothers walking through the door behind. His face falls when he sees they are followed by two more of our men, placing themself in the corners of his office while Reign and Killian take the chairs in front of his desk. Connor closes the door behind him, placing himself against the door as a barrier while I walk towards the window. I close the curtain before turning around, leaning my back against the window frame, then fold my arms in front of my body.

  “W-what’s up, guys?” David’s eyes move back and forth between the four of us, the nervousness running down his chubby face while his stutter makes me smile on the inside. They say I’m ruthless and severe. That I have no mercy for those who piss me off.

  It’s true.

  But what everyone fails to see is what happens before I reach that point of no return. I take care of the people around me, the people that deliver good work for my companies and therefore are good for my brothers and I. It’s when they decide to no longer return the unspoken courtesy, the loyalty I demand, that reason is no longer in my vocabulary and they no longer are a priority.

  They become a liability.

  “Oh, you know,” Reign starts, with his famous boyish grin, running a hand through his honey brown hair, “just doing the rounds. Seeing who’s paying, who’s doing their job, who’s running their mouth.” He casually shrugs his shoulders, holding David’s gaze that is getting more tense by the second.

  “Got any info from the street, David?” Killian pitches in, cocking his head a little in a mocking way. Killian and Reign are the easiest Wolfe brothers in general, but a lethal team when put together.

  “N-no, all good. You know no one dares to talk shit about the Boston Wolfes.” He starts to fumble with the pen in his hand, tapping it against the armrest of his chair. The gesture is noticed by Killian, and a pleased look appears on his face.

  “You nervous, David?” He nods at the ticking of the pen, making David abruptly stop the movement, suddenly completely aware of his stance.

  “I think he is,” Reign states with a slight chuckle.

  He has the biggest heart out of the four of us, always wanting to have proof before any retaliation is executed, while Killian’s huge knowledge of body language makes him judgmental in general, but both of them still are pretty forgiving people. Connor and I? We are unforgiving. We don’t give second chances. We don’t listen when you fuck up. Simply because we won’t allow your fuck up to mess with our family. If there is a slight chance, you are a threat to my brothers and I, we will eliminate you without question. I look at Connor, meeting my gaze, waiting for a signal on how we will proceed.

  But to be honest? I haven’t decided yet. In any other given situation, I would’ve let Connor have his way and be done with it, but you see—he made this personal.

  Messing with my favorite girl.

  He crossed a line he can’t come back from.

  A line I can’t pretend wasn’t there.

  He knows this. You don’t mess with my girl.

  I watch him, swallowing hard while a drip of sweat runs down his neck.

  Literally sweating like a pig with his beer belly being hugged by his tight dress shirt.

  “I don’t know, David. I’ve been hearing some pretty weird rumors running around.” Killian gets up, heading to the liquor stand in the left corner, while David follows his movement.

  “You want one?” he says, holding up a bottle of scotch. “I think you should have one.” Without waiting for any response, he pours the contents of the bottle into two tumblers, before handing one over to David.

  He reaches out his now slightly shaking hand before bringing the rim of the glass to his mouth.

  “You wanna hear what I’ve been hearing lately?” Killian asks while he takes a seat on the corner of David’s desk, his glass resting on his dark jeans.

  David takes another sip of his drink, before lifting his chin, looking like he’s pushing out his last ounce of bravery.

  “Sure.” His voice squeals a little, with an audible fear.

  “I heard Emerson got a new accountant. You know Emerson, right? Emerson Jones? Short hair, ugly face, sounds like a redneck?”

  “I’ve heard of him,” he admits hesitantly, then wipes his forehead with one of his sleeves.

  “I sure hope you do, because your name seems to occur in the same sentences as Emerson’s a lot.”

  “I-I d-don’t—“ David stammers, before being silenced as Killian slams his glass against the side of his head, the sound of glass falling echoing through the room as the shards fall to the ground. David cries out in pain, while the liquor drips down his face.

  “This is not the part where you say you don’t know what we are talking about, Dave.” Reign lets out a sigh, bored with the conversation. “I have proof. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here. You know this. Just like you knew I would find out.”

  “But you got greedy, didn’t you? How much did he promise you?” Killian hisses, hovering above his face, his hands resting on the armrests.

  “I-I’m s-s-sorry,” he pleads, bringing his arms together as if he’s praying for a way out.

  Connor growls from the other side of the room, impatient to make him shut up, but I lift a finger, telling him to not make a move, before my eyes meet Killian’s. He assesses my gaze, then turns the chair, forcing David to look at me.

  As soon as his eyes lock with mine, his face pales, the blood draining from his skin.

  “Please, Franklin. Please, you have to listen.”

  “I would’ve listened if you came to me telling me you weren’t happy with the way we are running our businesses,” I say before staying quiet for a few seconds, then continuing with the same calmness in my voice. “I would’ve listened if you told me you wanted a raise.”

  “Franklin.
Please.” He starts to sob, his body shaking as the tears are streaming down his fat cheeks.

  “But you chose to talk to Emerson Jones, giving me no chance to listen to you. Sorry, Dave. It’s too late for me to listen. You made your choice. Now I’ve made mine.”

  His eyes widen at my words and without hesitation I reach in the holster on my side, as I take out my gun, ignoring the frantic pleads of the man I once thought was my friend. My hand takes the silencer out of my pocket before I screw it on without hurry, then looking into David’s bloodshot eyes as I slowly close the distance between us. A begging look runs through them, while the desperation is dripping from his face.

  “What will you tell Marie?” he asks, his voice breaking more with every word, “and Tyler?”

  He gives me a hopeful look, knowing it’s useless for him to pray for another outcome, yet desperate to know what will happen to his family.

  “That, David,” I drawl, “you’ll never know.”

  Without hesitation, I bring up my gun with rapid speed, giving him no chance to react before I pull the trigger and run a bullet through his head. Instantly his head jerks back, a perfect round in the middle of his forehead as his entire body goes limp.

  “For fuck’s sake, Franklin,” Connor booms through the room, “I still wanted to punch him.”

  “Well, you can still do that,” I deadpan, making Killian chuckle.

  “Not the same, asshole.” Connor scowls.

  I look at Reign, who’s staring at a now dead as fuck David, his green eyes looking hollow and troubled.

  “Hey? You good?” I snap my fingers in front of his face, trying to get his attention as he moves his gaze towards mine.

  “He deserves this,” I explain, making him rub his face at my words.

  “I know. I know.” He nods, still keeping the disappointed glare on his face, before he gets up. “I’m outta here.”

  I hum in agreement before moving my head back and forth between the two men in the corner.

  “Get rid of him,” I command before I follow Reign out of the office as Connor and Killian trail behind me.