Resurrected King (Ruthless Bratva Brotherhood Book 2)

by Kaye Blue

  Because it wasn’t just physical attraction.

  Something about her got to me. Maybe it was all the contradiction I knew she hid behind her kind facade.

  Or maybe it was the fact that her kindness wasn’t a facade at all. I was an expert at sniffing out fakes.

  Adora wasn’t fake.

  She had an inner goodness that I instinctively sensed was real and only served to accentuate her outward beauty.

  After about ten minutes, minutes that left me both turned on and confused by the intensity of my reaction to her, she approached with two plates in hand.

  “Roast beef. Would you like coffee?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I responded.

  I was going to have to come up with more than one-word answers, but it was difficult.

  Being this close to her threw me off, though the feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

  Not at all.

  She returned with a carafe, two mugs, and a container that held cream and sugar.

  I watched as she poured a mug for me and then for herself and then sighed with delight as she took her first sip.

  That deep, pleasure-filled moan had my cock jumping, an effect that only intensified when she licked her lips.

  The action wasn’t intended to titillate, but her pure, unvarnished reactions were more potent than any practiced seduction.

  I needed to think about something else, anything else, so I focused on her eyes.

  “Tired?” I asked, noticing that while her eyes still sparkled, there was a hint of dimness there.

  “A little bit. Had an early start today, and I still have to make it through the lunch rush and closing yet.”

  “By yourself?” I asked, though I knew the answer.

  “Yeah. But it’s fine. I have a system,” she said, a smile playing on her face as she waved away the concern I hadn’t meant to express.

  “I’m sure you’re more than capable, but this place seems pretty busy. Help wouldn’t hurt,” I said, chiding myself for sticking my nose in but unwilling to see her harmed, even if she didn’t see it that way.

  “We’ll hire help soon,” she said. “But we’re just getting really established, and I don’t want to be reckless.”

  “Being prudent is fine, but you shouldn’t work yourself so hard,” I said, my voice deepening ever so slightly, but enough that I knew she hadn’t missed the change.

  “Hard work never hurt anybody,” she said, smiling and then taking a sip of her coffee.

  Though her outward demeanor hadn’t changed, I sensed something, a subtle shift, one that told me I was moving to an area she wasn’t willing to discuss.

  My inclination was to push harder, figure out what the story was, but I resisted.

  Mostly because I was far too curious.

  I wanted to know about her, to know everything, but getting more deeply involved was something I didn’t dare risk.

  It was foolish enough being here, coming under the guise of being hungry, which, while stupid, hadn’t been a lie.

  I had been hungry.

  Hungry, desperate to see her, which was all more reason I should have stayed away.

  “Mikhail?” she said.

  We’d been eating in silence for a couple of moments, some distant part of me noticing the sandwich she’d made was the best I’d ever eaten but the rest of me so preoccupied with her closeness that I couldn’t fully enjoy it.

  “Yes?” I responded, my attention riveted to her as I tried to figure out where she was headed.

  She was going to say something. Her expression gave that away, and I was immediately on alert, wondering what.

  She froze, her brows lifted, her lips thinned with concern. “You don’t mind me calling you that, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t have told you my name if I didn’t want you to use it.”

  My voice was raw, something I hadn’t intended, and I worried I gave too much away. But again, she seemed not to notice, and instead smiled, nodded, the tension leaving her face.

  “Good. And it’s a beautiful name.”

  I shrugged. “It’s just a name.”

  “I disagree, but that’s a topic for another conversation,” she said, lifting her lips in a half smile.

  “And what’s the topic for this conversation?” I asked, lifting a brow, feeling light, at ease, in a way I couldn’t ever remember being.

  “Well,” she said, leaning back, her eyes dancing with mischief.

  “Well?” I responded, finding myself again hooked, intrigued by the playfulness behind her eyes.

  “I know that my food is unrivaled, my pastries are the best in the city, and my coffee, while not the greatest, you could do worse.”

  “And…” I said, knowing there was more to come.

  “And,” she said, “I know that my jeans and apron make me practically irresistible.”

  I murmured noncommittally, smart enough not to counteract her sarcasm, though I definitely wanted to.

  “But,” she said, pausing for dramatic effect and then taking a sip of coffee, “I somehow suspect you didn’t come all this way for any of that.”

  “All this way?” I countered.

  “True, I don’t know where you live, but I feel like you might have passed at least a dozen bakeries and sandwich shops before you got here.”

  “But as you said, yours is the best. What makes you think I would settle for less than?” I said, again feeling that unfamiliar playfulness.

  “Well, I can see that you only enjoy the best,” she said, gesturing toward me.

  “You can?” She nodded. “How?”

  I was confused.

  I wasn’t flashy in any way. In fact, I hated such things. If I had my way, I’d wear cargo pants and T-shirts every day and only didn’t because Etienne insisted I needed to dress to represent the Brotherhood.

  “I have an eye, and I can ballpark how much that shirt costs. To make no mention of the shoes.”

  I was impressed and annoyed, mostly that Adora probably thought of me as some pretty boy who gave a shit about that kind of stuff.

  I reminded myself I didn’t—couldn’t—care what she thought. I turned back to the subject. “Point taken, but what does this have to do with me being here?”

  “You may enjoy the best, but I suspect I know why you’re really here,” she said, still smiling though I could sense how serious she was.

  My heart thudded, and I wondered what had given me away.

  I’d tried to hide my attraction to her and, the kiss aside, thought I’d done a good job.

  But then, Adora was the first woman to make me feel anything in over a decade. I shouldn’t have been surprised she could see through me.

  “And it’s not necessary,” she said a moment later.

  “What?” I asked, blinking as I looked at her.

  “This isn’t necessary. Erin is a bit of a worrier, but there’s no need for you to check in on me while she’s gone,” Adora said, giving me a smile that I was sure was intended to placate me and convince me she was right.

  “You think Erin sent me?” I asked.

  A stupid question, really, because Adora had just given me a way out.

  But I didn’t want to take it and refused to consider the reason why.

  She shrugged. “She might have gotten Sasha to.”

  I said nothing but couldn’t stop the smile that quickly covered my face.

  “Maybe. Or maybe I wanted to see you,” I said, my voice deepening.

  I shouldn’t have been going down this road, my words far too revealing, but Adora just brushed them off with a wave of her hand.

  “Sure, I’ll bet—”

  “Adora!”

  She was cut off by a man who burst into the bakery.

  I took him in quickly, mid-forties, a few inches shorter than me at an even six feet, low-cut hair, skin a deeper brown than Adora’s, and I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t seem sleep deprived at all.

  Howard, the owner of the bakery.

>   The first sight of him set me on edge, but I pushed the feeling back and observed.

  Adora frowned but covered quickly and set her face in a neutral expression before she stood and turned to face him.

  My gaze snagged on her full hips and round ass, but I managed to pull it away and slipped a hundred dollar bill under Adora’s plate. Then, I turned my attention back to her and that fucker Howard.

  “Howard.”

  “You know we’re about to get hit with lunch rush and you’re sitting here running your mouth when we have work to do,” he chided.

  I couldn’t see Adora’s face, but I heard the scorn in her voice.

  “You mean I have work to do.”

  “Semantics. Get going,” he responded.

  She didn’t say anything else and instead turned to face me, an apologetic smile on her lips.

  I stood too, ignoring Howard, even though I felt fires of anger rising in the background at the way he had spoken to her.

  “Mikhail, it was nice to see you, but please don’t feel obliged to check on me. I’m fine. You take care,” she said before turning slightly toward the door, my cue that this conversation was over.

  I wanted to fight her on that, tell her I wasn’t checking up on her because of anything but my desire to. And I wanted to throttle Howard, though I knew that was jealously talking.

  But I couldn’t say any of those things, couldn’t pull her into my arms like I so desperately wanted to.

  So instead, I nodded. “Take care, Adora.”

  She gave me the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen as I walked toward the door, which I loved and hated because while beautiful, her smile was a dismissal, and I bristled at the thought of her sending me away, especially at the word of Howard.

  Still, as much as I hated it, I’d already revealed too much by coming here and couldn’t risk more. So as much as it sucked, retreat was my only option.

  I left the bakery without looking at her again, but even the abruptness of my departure couldn’t entirely dampen my mood. Those minutes with her just being were the best I’d had in years.

  I’d given up on anything like pleasure, let alone joy, years ago, and had told myself I didn’t need it for so long I was almost convinced. But Adora tossed that all away.

  I didn’t know anything about her, not really, but I knew that when I looked into her eyes, saw her smile, heard her sweet voice, I felt alive.

  It scared the shit out of me.

  Adora

  I’d watched him walk out of the bakery but didn’t let my gaze linger.

  I already felt like a live wire. I could remember how his lips had felt against mine in the car.

  Remembered his gaze had felt as he sat in the bakery, his brown eyes seeming to bore into me, leaving me exposed and actually enjoying the feeling, something that wasn’t like me at all.

  I was happy, friendly, but I didn’t let many people see beyond that. Under his gaze, though, I knew that he could, and to my surprise, that didn’t scare me.

  No, what scared me was how much I wanted to let him, let him see the parts of me I tried to hide from even myself.

  Which was why Mikhail was so dangerous.

  I’d sensed that before, had thought it was because of his stature or the quiet intensity that seemed to pulsate around him. Thought it was because of what he did for a living.

  Because I wanted him so badly.

  But no.

  All of those things were true, but none got at why he was so dangerous to me.

  He was dangerous to me because I wanted to let him in, not just to my body but my soul, the parts of me I swore I’d never let anyone else see.

  It scared the shit out of me.

  Howard snapped his fingers, making me jump.

  “Get your head out of the clouds, Adora. You’ve got work to do.”

  I glared at Howard, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

  “I know exactly what needs to be done, Howard, and I appreciate you not bossing me or snapping at me like I’m a damn puppy,” I said.

  He waved me away.

  “Don’t be so sensitive. I’m trying to make sure we stay on track,” he said.

  I bit back a retort and instead focused on what I was doing, my tendency to play peacemaker rearing its head.

  As I bussed the table where Mikhail and I had sat, I noticed a hundred dollar bill and quickly pocketed it before Howard saw.

  Still, I couldn’t help but smile, not surprised he had gone against me.

  I’d have to give him shit about that the next time I saw him.

  Next time.

  Would there be one?

  I didn’t know whether I wanted that or not.

  Wait, that wasn’t true. I did want it, wanted it more than almost anything else, but I was scared of it too.

  I had no illusions about myself. I knew that Mikhail wouldn’t look at someone like me twice.

  But the danger was there nonetheless, even more potent because I didn’t even care about it.

  Not for the first time in my life, I wished that I was different, wished I was the kind of woman who would seek what she wanted.

  Because I wanted him.

  But wishing wouldn’t change reality, though I suspected I would see Mikhail again, knew that I would, even though I had told him not to come.

  He’d keep his word to Erin and Sasha, but I wouldn’t let myself be distracted by that, wouldn’t give in to feelings and desires that I had no place for.

  The memory of that kiss rose to taunt me.

  At least, I wouldn’t a second time.

  Seven

  Mikhail

  By the time I made it back to Sasha’s restaurant, the Brotherhood’s informal meeting place, my head was clear.

  Or would have been if my thoughts hadn’t kept straying back to Adora.

  And to the asshole who had interrupted us.

  I wasted no time going directly for the office where I found Shay sitting behind Sasha’s desk.

  “Hello, Shay. I thought you had work,” I said, surprised to see her here.

  She closed the tall, thick book she’d been reading then met my eyes, her hand creeping to her neck, her fingers tracing the scars there.

  I often wondered if she realized that she did that but had never asked.

  Asking would only embarrass her, and though I considered her a friend, it wasn’t my business.

  Besides, I had issues of my own, and she’d never pried. I could repay the favor.

  Still, I was protective of her and hated to see her in distress, even if it was of her own making.

  “I do have work. A lot of it,” she finally said, “but I couldn’t bear another moment with him.”

  It didn’t take much to figure out who the “him” in question was.

  “Riker’s on your back?” I asked, full well knowing the answer.

  She frowned, her usually placid expression practically dripping with disgust.

  Yes,” she finally said, “so we came to an agreement that I could look at the books here and spare us both the punishment of being in each other’s company.”

  “I’m here if you need me,” I said, unwilling to take sides in the unrelenting tension between the two of them.

  “Thank you, Ghost. Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

  I was inclined to say no but reconsidered.

  Information was one of my specialties, a byproduct of my old career in special forces. My commander had always preached that an elite soldier never left anything to chance, knew everything there was to know about a mission.

  Everything.

  I hadn’t taken that lesson to heart until it was too late, but I did now.

  Always.

  I was the clearinghouse of information for the Brotherhood, knew everything there was to know about the business, tried to anticipate what was on the horizon.

  But Shay was a genius when it came to numbers.

  “Maybe there is,” I said.

  “Of
course. I could use the distraction,” she replied, her eyes sparking with excitement.

  “You know how to access online accounting information, right?”

  She thinned her lips, her umbrage plain.

  I smiled quickly. “Can you get the financials for a bakery? It belongs to Erin’s friend Adora.”

  Shay nodded. “I met her. Am I looking for anything specific?”

  “Not yet. I just want to get the lay of the land.”

  She put the cap on her pen and then reached for her laptop, my vague request not fazing her for in the least.

  “I’ll have something for you in a couple of hours.”

  I left her to it, again appreciating that she didn’t ask for more information, especially not why I was looking into Adora’s bakery.

  Not that I’d expected her to.

  Her role in the Brotherhood was unique.

  She managed the money, but Etienne made sure she wasn’t involved in the day-to-day business, made sure she didn’t know more than the barest details.

  She’d been a part of the Brotherhood since I’d arrived, and I’d never tried to get details of how that had happened. What mattered now was that Shay would make sure I had more information about Adora.

  I’d hated seeing her exhausted, hated that she was running the entire bakery alone, and hated even more that Howard was to blame.

  Instinct told me that her predicament was her fault, and I’d long ago learned to trust it.

  Everything I’d seen about the bakery told me it should have been wildly successful, but I got the sense it was cash-strapped.

  I wanted to know why.

  After I left the office, I went to my own computer and got to work.

  I pulled up Howard’s background, saw that he was about fifteen years older than Adora, had lived in the city for his entire life, and had started a string of failed businesses.

  He’d received a chunk of money a decade ago, but then his records were quiet until three years ago when he’d opened the bakery.

  And based on the withdrawal patterns of his account, he had a serious gambling problem.

  That didn’t surprise me. One look at Howard and I’d known there was something.

  I didn’t give a shit about Howard or his problems, but I did wonder about his relationship with Adora and how they’d come to work together in the bakery.