Resurrected King (Ruthless Bratva Brotherhood Book 2)

by Kaye Blue

  That feeling was still there fourteen hours later when I made my way back to my apartment, tired but still excited.

  And as I lay in bed and drifted off, he was still at the forefront of my mind, memories of the faint lines around his eyes and the way his hands were the perfect combination of smooth and rough.

  Those were the thoughts that sent me to sleep.

  The arid unmistakable smell of smoke was what woke me up.

  Mikhail

  “Where the fuck are you, Ghost?”

  At Riker’s snapped question, I looked over, blinked.

  “Sorry,” I said, not denying that I was distracted.

  “Is something troubling you, Ghost?” Etienne asked.

  He had flown back in this morning, and I had no clue how long he’d be around. But him asking that question was proof that I was way off my game.

  “I’m fine,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing.

  “Good. Because I need all eyes on the Federovs.”

  “I thought that was handled?” Riker said.

  “It was, and I want to make sure it stays that way.”

  “You’re expecting trouble?” I asked.

  “I hope the deal stands, but with the protection rackets being back up for sale and a leadership vacuum in the city, things could get messy.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on it,” I said.

  “So will I,” Riker added.

  “And how is Shay progressing with the books?” Etienne asked.

  “She’s doing fine, making good headway,” I said.

  Riker just scowled.

  “Good. I’ll speak to her, but I have several hundred million dollars I need cleaned, so when she’s finished with the books, she has another big task ahead. Making sure she’s protected and comfortable is my top priority.”

  I glanced at Riker, who looked like he was going to break his teeth his jaw was so tightly clenched.

  But he eventually nodded and Etienne did the same.

  “Sasha will be back in a few weeks?” Etienne asked.

  “Maybe. He might extend the trip, but I’m taking care of things at the restaurant,” I said.

  “Good. So, it seems like everything is in order here,” Etienne said, looking pleased, or as pleased as he could be.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Good. Riker, I left Shay with several guards. See that she makes it back to my building when she’s done for the day.”

  “If she’s with your guards, why can’t they take her?”

  “Call me when she’s been safely delivered,” Etienne said by way of response.

  Riker scowled but then turned and stalked off without another word.

  “I don’t get it. Why is he such an asshole about her?” I asked after Riker left.

  “He’s an asshole about everyone,” Etienne said.

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t argue that point. “But it’s too much, and she shouldn’t have to deal with his crap.”

  “Shay can take care of herself,” Etienne said. “And I’m not here to discuss that.”

  I looked at him, and though his expression gave nothing away, I couldn’t shake the sense that something serious was happening.

  “Trouble?”

  “Hopefully not, but I didn’t want you to be caught by surprise.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “The Commander is in the city.”

  Of all the things I would have expected him to say, that was the last one.

  I hadn’t heard that name, hadn’t uttered it in a decade, but it was never far from my thoughts.

  Because the Commander was the reason I was here, and he was responsible for this half-life I’d been living.

  “Do you know why?” I asked, keeping all emotion out of my voice.

  “No, but I’ll figure it out.

  “Does he know about me?”

  “As far as he knows, you died a decade ago. I intend to keep it that way.”

  I nodded, though I felt distant, my mind both calm and racing.

  “Ghost, I—”

  The low vibration of my cell phone cut Etienne off.

  I reached into my pocket and looked at the screen, though I knew who it was.

  I’d only given the number to one person.

  But I wouldn’t answer, not in front of Etienne, even though I knew the sound of her voice would ground me, again remind me that I was here, alive, when thoughts of the Commander threatened to do the opposite.

  Still, now wasn’t the time.

  I sent the call to voicemail then looked at Etienne.

  “This can’t be a dis—”

  The phone vibrated again, and once glance at Etienne told me he was getting pissed. “You need to handle that?” he asked, only the faintest lilt of anger in his voice.

  One call might be a coincidence, but two back-to-back had me worried.

  I answered without pause.

  “Adora?”

  “I-I’m sorry to call, but can you come?”

  Her voice was soft, watery with unshed tears, and my brain was on high alert.

  “I’m on my way. What’s happened?”

  I glanced back at Etienne who just shrugged, as much permission as I would get, not that I would wait for any.

  “The bakery. It’s on fire.”

  Twelve

  Adora

  “You sure you all right, sweetheart?” asked one of the firefighters who’d shown up at the bakery.

  He had kind eyes and a face streaked with soot, but he seemed nonchalant about the chaos around him.

  I tried to mirror his calm as I nodded and took two steps back and up onto the sidewalk across from the bakery.

  And almost busted my ass when I slipped in the flip-flops that the paramedic had given me in the back of the ambulance.

  When I regained my balance, I looked at the firefighter and gave a smile I hoped was convincing. He returned it and then headed off toward the bakery. I kept my eyes on him for as long as I could, and then, finally, forced myself to look at the smoldering wreckage that had once been my bakery.

  My home.

  The building had been rare, a corner lot with no other units attached, a jewel, at least to my eye.

  Now it was on the verge of being nothing.

  As if conjured by my thoughts, there was a crack, squeak, buckle, and then, finally, the sound of the building giving way and collapsing. The sound rang in my ears as I watched, the sight of the bricks crumbling to the ground simultaneously unbelievable and undeniable.

  And then it was over.

  The smoke, the heat that radiated off the rubble, the sounds of the firefighters were all that remained.

  I looked at the spot where the building had been, the hole where it had once stood reflecting the hole in my heart.

  Tears burned at my eyes, threatened with every moment, but I refused to let them come.

  I just stayed still, watched, the action finally slowing, the truth settling in.

  The bakery was gone.

  “You sure you don’t want to get checked out at the hospital?” the paramedic who had looked me over in the back of the ambulance asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Do you need to get in contact with social services?” she asked.

  “No. I called someone,” I said.

  She handed me a card, the familiar red cross immediately recognizable. “In case you need somewhere to go tonight.”

  I was certain of so little, but I knew I wouldn’t have to use it.

  Mikhail had said he was coming.

  So he would.

  I wasn’t sure why I believed that so fervently, but whatever the reason, I knew he would be here.

  And I knew I wanted him to be.

  Needed him to be.

  I had spent years trying keep myself distant, make it so that I wouldn’t feel anything like this again, and as I stood staring at that pile of rubble that had meant so much to me, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle this alone.

  That he
was the only one who could see me through.

  And it seemed he had an immaculate sense of timing I thought as I watched a sleek black SUV round the corner.

  I instantly knew who was driving.

  My heart lifted, a reaction that was totally out of place.

  Still, I couldn’t ignore the relief that filled me as the vehicle approached.

  It came to a stop, and he got out, quickly looking over his shoulder and then focusing on me.

  He glimpsed at the bakery—the space where it had been—for less than a second, but I knew he hadn’t missed the destruction.

  Still, when he looked at me, I didn’t see pity in his expression.

  And I was grateful for that.

  “You hurt?”

  His voice was tight, like he was fighting to keep rein over his emotions.

  I shook my head. “No. I’m fine. They checked me out.”

  “You sure?” he asked, looking at me from head to toe then back again like he could see inside me.

  “Yeah. I’m sure,” I said.

  He looked at me for a moment longer and then nodded. His body seemed to loosen, the rigid alertness that had been there before shifting.

  For some reason, seeing him made the tears come back full force.

  I ruthlessly pushed them down.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said.

  He looked at me, his expression asking if I’d thought he would do anything else.

  I didn’t answer.

  “You speak to anyone?” he said.

  He looked over at the assembled police, his face not giving anything away.

  Still, I doubted he was eager to talk to them and probably didn’t appreciate me bringing him here.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassment making me feel sick. “I didn’t say—”

  “Do they need to speak with you?”

  I shook my head, trying not to overact and not doing a very good job. “I made a statement, and I’m supposed to go to the precinct tomorrow. But I don’t need to speak to anyone else now.”

  He nodded and then without pause wrapped his hand around my elbow and led me to the SUV.

  I refused to read anything into the gentle way he touched me. He was simply being kind, helping me out, probably out of duty.

  But in that moment, his touch meant everything to me.

  Made me feel like I wasn’t completely alone in the world.

  And though I knew that caring about others, relying on anyone but myself was the road to ruin, I appreciated him more than I could say.

  Which was why I didn’t dare look at him after I got to the SUV.

  I knew my face would reveal too much, knew that I was too weak, too exposed to hold it together.

  He got in and drove off but didn’t speak, which left me to my thoughts.

  “I didn’t grab my purse, so my cash and cards are gone,” I blurted out.

  I had thought of that before but forgotten, and as I sat SUV, it again hit me how my life had been destroyed.

  Everything I owned gone.

  Everything I valued lost to me forever.

  My head started to swim, and it occurred to me that maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss the paramedic.

  I risked glancing over at Mikhail, and he looked back at me then nodded curtly, putting his eyes back on the road.

  Something about his stoicism soothed me.

  “Don’t worry about any of that,” he said.

  I wanted to believe him, trust him, and on some level, I did.

  I told myself it was because I had no other options.

  I certainly wouldn’t call Erin while she was on her honeymoon and wasn’t sure I could even get her.

  Howard ordinarily would have been out of the question, but for a few moments, I’d considered it.

  Then I’d reconsidered and called Mikhail.

  In the end, it had been easy to do.

  And hard.

  Even at the frantic scene, the smells and sounds of the building being destroyed, I had been certain seeing him was the only thing that might make me feel better.

  As I sat next to him, I knew I had been right.

  That terrified me.

  “Thank you,” I said, for lack of anything else to say.

  He didn’t answer, but the fact that he was here, had come without question, was answer enough.

  Tears threatened again, but this time the emotion was different.

  It wasn’t quite happiness, but I feared it was dangerously close to it. And I’d rather have the crushing despair. At least I was familiar with that.

  So, as I had been doing since the first whiff of smoke had woken me, I pushed tears back.

  My emotions were all over the place, and it wouldn’t do to allow myself to give into them.

  No, I would keep myself under control, keep those emotions, whatever the source of them, in check.

  He pulled to a stop in front of nondescript building and looked over at me.

  “Sorry, there’s no elevator,” he said.

  “You expect me to complain?” I asked.

  He held my gaze for a long moment. “Never.”

  His gaze lingered, but after a breath, he got out of the SUV.

  Before he reached me, I had gotten out as well, trying to ignore whatever it was that had just passed between us.

  I followed him into the building and up to the apartment that was on the third floor. After we entered, I looked around. Tall ceilings, nice windows, a small but adequate kitchen.

  And all the hominess of a hostel.

  “This isn’t your house,” I said.

  It wasn’t a question, and for once I got a rise out of him.

  He quirked a brow before setting his face in a neutral position.

  “Why do you say that?”

  I looked around, trying to pinpoint what was.

  The furnishings were nice but not extravagant, but outside of his clothing, I didn’t get the sense that Mikhail was extravagant.

  Everything seemed well put together but impersonal.

  “It doesn’t have much personality,” I said.

  “And you think I do?”

  He was teasing, deflecting, and I decided to let it pass.

  “In any case, it’s a nice place,” I said.

  “Thanks. I guess,” he said and smiled quickly, the expression one that I returned, one that made me feel lighter, if only for a moment.

  “The bathroom is this way. I have shirts, pants, and socks, but nothing too fancy. You get cleaned up and changed. It’ll make you feel better. We can talk about next steps tomorrow,” he said.

  He seemed calm.

  Unnaturally so.

  Not that his calm was unexpected.

  It was all I had ever seen in him, his steadiness apparent at my first glance, more so with every interaction we’d had.

  But it was more than that.

  Something about his reaction suggested this wasn’t the first time he’d come across this situation or one like it.

  I had told myself not to think about his…profession, but I knew that had to play a part in his reaction.

  One that I refused to consider.

  “Thanks,” I said instead, unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Right now, he was helping me, something I hated but was smart enough to admit I needed.

  “No need to thank me, Adora. And no need to apologize,” he said.

  I had looked away, and when I looked at him again, I saw the sternness in his expression.

  “Sorry.” I chuckled. “I mean…”

  He nodded toward the hall, his expression softening. “Go shower.”

  “What a good idea!” I said brightly, trying to cover my embarrassment but knowing I failed.

  “You’ll find everything you need in the hall closet.”

  I resisted the urge to say thank you, one that was so strong it was almost impossible to ignore, and instead went to the bathroom.

  It was clean, totally p
erfunctory. Definitely focused on function.

  I appreciated it.

  I liked nice things, but what I needed now was something to calm me, to keep me from thinking back to what had happened.

  And had I been in some fancy-ass bathroom, I would have done just that, knowing that I had no business in place like that. My being so out of place only serving to remind me of all that was gone.

  But here, in this almost industrial bathroom, in this totally impersonal house, I felt calm.

  Definitely because of him.

  I moved at the thought, hoping the activity would push the implication away. I looked in the closet and found the clothes he’d promised along with a toothbrush and some cheap shampoo.

  I made use of them all, moving through the motions without giving myself time to think.

  I showered and washed my hair, which was surprisingly cooperative.

  After I dressed, I grabbed the toothbrush but then froze, letting my gaze snag on my reflection in the mirror.

  I looked at myself, the face I stared at every day, one that in that moment, I didn’t recognize.

  Did I always look so haunted?

  So broken?

  I hoped not.

  I always fought hard to keep my emotions at bay, and the idea of them being so blindingly obvious was one I couldn’t abide.

  So as much as I wanted to cry, scream, think about the bakery, everything else I had lost, I didn’t.

  Instead, I blinked at my expression, told myself to be strong, reminded myself I’d survived worse.

  When I was certain the tears wouldn’t fall, I turned and reached for the bathroom door, ready for what awaited me on the other side of it.

  Thirteen

  Mikhail

  I paced as I waited for her, my mind adrift in a sea of conflicting thoughts.

  The image of the building that she’d lived in, slept in, reduced to nothing more than a pile of rubble.

  I couldn’t allow myself to go down the road of what-ifs.

  So instead, I focused on my relief at seeing her, something else that was equally potent and equally dangerous.

  When I had seen her standing there, looking so… so lost, I swore that I would protect her from any and everything.

  Would willingly die to do so.

  I was certain of that, just as I was impressed by her.