13

“MARRY me. Before we do the rest of this. Marry me now, Giacinta. Be my wife.”

Everything in her stilled. She could hear the sound of the sea below them. The birds in the trees and insects buzzing in the gardens. She was aware of everything about Casimir. His height, so much taller than she was. His chest, all defined muscle. His strong arms and tapered waist. His narrow hips and long, muscular legs. His hands were a man’s hands. Beautiful.

Most of all she was acutely aware of Casimir beneath Tomasso’s gorgeous Italian image. She would always see him. The real man, not the one everyone else saw. It would never matter what role he was playing, he would always be hers. She would always see the real man.

“Honey.” She kept her tone gentle. “You know we can’t do that. Lissa Piner is an American. You’re whatever role you’re playing. We can’t possibly get permission to marry here in Italy.”

“Giacinta and Casimir can get married. That’s your legal name. That’s mine. We can get married right away. The documents have been taken care of.”

She shook her head. “That’s impossible. A Russian citizen would have to appear in person at the Russian Embassy in order to get the necessary papers. I’d have to go with you and prove I’m an Italian citizen. You need a stamp of . . .”

“Marry me, Giacinta Abbracciabene. Come with me now. Let’s do it. I’ve got a priest standing by. He’ll marry us today.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small black velvet case.

Lissa swallowed hard. He wasn’t joking. He meant every single word and she could tell this meant something to him. Not just something. Everything. She couldn’t speak. She could only look at him. He’d planned this. After. After knowing about Luigi’s betrayal. After knowing Arturo betrayed her. Knowing she had loved them both, at least the illusion of who they were. He had somehow managed to arrange this. He had to have had help. Still. He gave her his declaration of love.

“Are you going to give this to me?” he asked gently. “For me, Giacinta. For me.”

It wasn’t for him. He might think it was, but in reality, it was for her. To belong somewhere. Everyone needed to belong.

“You’re certain, Casimir? Because this is a lifetime commitment. We might actually survive our encounter with the Sorbacovs, and then what? How are you going to get out of this if you marry me legally?”

“Malyshka. Baby. Do you really think I would ever want out? Ever? I haven’t been to the farm, but my brothers seem to love it there. Lev told me he goes sea urchin diving with Rikki. Stefan owns an art gallery with Judith. Max heads up security for Airiana. And Gavriil . . .” A grin broke through, as if he couldn’t quite believe what his older brother did. “Gavriil is working the farm with Lexi. I intend to learn the art of glassblowing with my wife. Welding as well. I want to work with you. Live with you. Share your home and your bed. Permanently. When we’re eighty, I want to be sitting on the front porch with you in a rocking chair while our grandchildren play where we can see and hear them.”

She moistened her lips. “You want children?”

He nodded. “I want the family neither of us ever got to have. With you. I want that with you. And I want us married before we go to Russia.”

“I didn’t expect this.” Her heart beat so fast and so hard she felt the ache spreading through her body.

“Do you love me?”

Her breath caught in her lungs. In her throat. The raw emotion on his face tore her up inside. “More than anything.” It was true, truer than she’d even known. In that moment, everything was crystal clear to her.

“That’s all that matters. We have today to be us. Casimir and Giacinta. Luigi is with his wife and children. Tomorrow we can deal with the underbelly of the world and the ugly people residing there. But we have this day for us. The documents are legal. The priest is as well. I just have to text him, and we’ll go get clothes. A dress for you, a bridal gown. A suit for me. We’ll get married and spend the night in a beautiful little villa overlooking the sea. Say yes, golubushka. Give me you.”

“Tell me when you put this all together.”

For the first time he hesitated. “Does it matter?”

She knew then. He’d done it when he’d discovered Luigi’s treachery. When he knew and she didn’t. When he knew he would have to tell her, to take something precious from her. He had set this day in motion then.

“Won’t the Sorbacovs hear about a Casimir Prakenskii applying for permission to marry Giacinta Abbracciabene, an Italian citizen?”

“I told you, I have friends in high places. The priest will delay the paperwork getting to public records as well. The Sorbacovs will not have a clue that a Prakenskii has married and is the happiest man alive. When they are gone, whether we live or not, those papers will be made official to the world.”

She moistened her lips. He was so beautiful, sitting there looking at her with his dark, tinted eyes and the spill of dark wavy hair. Still, she preferred the gorgeous Russian with his strange, silver eyes and short, spiked, black and silver hair.

His thumb slid along her inner wrist, a lazy, languid slide that sent a million butterflies winging their way south. Her heart thundered in her ears. Could it be that easy to take something for herself? She was giving up her life for everyone else. Could she really do this? Marry him? It didn’t seem possible that he could have planned this down to the minutest detail, including making it actually legal, but who cared if it wasn’t? She doubted if they would live through the Sorbacovs’ security.

“Malyshka. Are you going to give this to me?”

The little breeze that had been flirting with her hair there on the balcony went still. The insects below in the gardens sounded more like music than an annoying drone. She nodded slowly, because she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t bring herself to ruin that perfect moment. She hadn’t had a lot of perfect moments in her life and this was number one. The best.

His slow smile turned her heart over. Maybe that moment was even better. He kissed her wrist. So gently. A caress that she felt all the way to her toes.

“Do I get Casimir? Not Tomasso?”

“I’ll change at the church.”

“Church?” she echoed, because she couldn’t imagine that they could walk into a church and get married. He’d said “priest” and that went with a church, but perhaps he was unaware that people were in them even during the day and they couldn’t very well get married in a small village and not have the news leak out.

“Trust me. Our wedding will be beautiful. We need to find you a dress.”

“This is Italy. One-of-a-kind wedding dresses. It isn’t like we can walk into a store and find a gown hanging.”

“You never know until you try, golubushka,” he said.

They found the dress in the third shop they walked into: Sophie Rigoli, a very famous Italian designer. Lissa hadn’t wanted to go into the shop because the gowns were beautiful beyond description, terribly expensive and one of a kind. Very original. It wasn’t like they could walk in and have one made in a day. She went because Casimir was so insistent and there was something in her that compelled her to give him whatever he wanted.

He’d planned their wedding. He bought her a ring. He intended to go with her to get the Sorbacovs. Most importantly, he had her back when her uncle and Arturo had broken her heart and turned her world upside down.

The shop was small, and she stayed back, near the door, while Casimir did the talking, explaining what they needed. To Lissa’s shock, the little Italian woman was practicing the dying art of traditional bobbin lace. She found herself moving forward, fascinated by the way the woman’s hands moved swift and sure when she already had at least nine bobbins hanging from the pattern she was creating, twisting the thread in the labor intensive and beautiful way rarely seen.

The woman’s eyes went to Lissa while Casimir talked, assessing her figure. A smile broke out and she nodded. “We had a dress made that couldn’t be used. The bride ran off. A big scandal. Her parents were embarrassed. Sophie’s beautiful creation sits here, but the dress could have been made for you. Would you like to see it?”

Lissa thought it was rather interesting that the bride had fled before her wedding and Lissa and Casimir were marrying in secret. She was absolutely certain the dress would be perfect, and more, it would fit as if it had been made for her. There was something beautiful and very right about finding the dress.

The shopkeeper put down her bobbins and led her to a small changing area in the back and brought out a dress. Lissa’s breath caught in her throat. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. The exquisite ivory wedding dress was definitely a Sophie Rigoli. The slip gown was heavily beaded with jewels. The neckline plunged low and the back was an illusion of jewels made of the traditional bobbin lace, with sheer fabric from neck to the waist. The natural waistline held more beadwork done with jewels. Silk organza ruffles accented the skirt and train.

Lissa stared at herself in the mirror. The dress clung to her every curve, emphasized her small waist and lush breasts. The shopkeeper brought out a veil with the same sheer material and illusion of jewels done in the bobbin lace. The veil went from her head to the floor, to add to the beauty of the train. She ran her hand down the dress, unable to believe she was actually standing there, looking at herself in the mirror in something so beautiful.

“I want this,” she breathed. Still, it had to cost a fortune.

“Your gentleman said anything you wanted. Cost did not matter. I have the silk stockings and garter to go with it.”

She also had ivory lace underwear and a pair of silver strappy heels. There was a beautiful silver necklace and drop earrings that looked perfect with the plunging neckline. Lissa didn’t ask the price. She knew if she did, she would never allow Casimir to pay for it all. She told herself after she sold the chandeliers to the other hotels she would have the money to pay him back, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Her day. Her only day. She just hoped Casimir thought the dress and veil would be worth the money as well when he saw them on her.

He didn’t raise an eyebrow when he paid, laughing and talking with the shopkeeper, oozing charm in the way he did. With the dress inside a garment bag, they drove the forty minutes to the city and straight to a Russian Orthodox church. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. The church appeared deserted, and they went around the building, through a garden to a side entrance. Casimir knocked twice and waited. The heavy door was unlocked, and Casimir took her hand and drew her inside.

The small room where they stood was unlit, and a man in robes stood in the shadows. Lissa couldn’t make out his face.

“We need a room to get ready,” Casimir said.

The priest closed and locked the door and then gestured for them to follow him.

“Do you have the paperwork?” Casimir asked.

The priest nodded, paused by a door, opened it and indicated for Lissa to go in. She did, and Casimir followed her. The priest shut the door, leaving them alone.

“It’s bad luck to see me before the wedding,” she said.

He smiled at her. Happy. She loved his smile. “This is our wedding. Part of it. A ritual. The groom helping the bride into her dress. The bride helping the groom with his tie.”

She nodded, shocked that his answer made her even happier.

He hung up the garment bags. “I’m going to get rid of Tomasso. We won’t need him again until tomorrow. I’ll get dressed and help you into your dress.” His hands framed her face. “Thank you for this, Giacinta, it means the world to me that you’d trust me this much.”

She found her eyes burning again. He had no idea how much she felt for him. The emotion nearly overwhelmed her. She knew she was living in the moment, but she also knew this might be all they ever had together and that made their decision all the more important.

While Casimir was in the small bathroom, she carefully did her hair in an artfully messy cascade that was pulled back from her face and twisted into a loose knot at the back of her head to allow her back to show in the dress. The drop earrings would show off the sheer fabric at her shoulders and the long necklace would accent the plunging neckline. She had on the stockings and heels and had stepped into her wedding gown when the door opened and Casimir emerged.

He looked . . . gorgeous. So handsome he took her breath away. He wore a black suit that fit him as if it had been made for him. She was certain it had been. His shoulders were wide and his body made for such a beautiful cut of jacket. His gaze jumped to her carefully made-up face, makeup with an edge toward drama but still muted, looking almost barely there.

Casimir looked at her as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Stark love was so raw on his face, stamped into his masculine features, every line, and his eyes, that incredible, slashing silver held the same intense desire—so much so that the absolute intensity brought on a flutter in the region of her heart. “Baby,” she breathed, because that was all she could do. All she could say.

He swirled his finger, indicating for her to turn as she drew up the gown, the sheer lace fabric settling over her shoulders. He did up the long row of jeweled buttons up the center of her back, adding to the mystique the jeweled illusion back created.

He bent and kissed the side of her neck, his breath warm. “Krasavisa.” He whispered the word against the skin behind her ear. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”

She knew the first word was “beautiful” and the second phrase was “I love you.” They both sounded amazing in his native language.

He turned her to face him, his hands gentle on her arms. When she was fully facing him, only a whisper away, he traced the plunging line of her gown in the long vee, over the curve of one breast, down to where the vee came together at her waist and back up over the curve of the other. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

She found herself staring into his eyes. This man belonged to her. He was dangerous, yes, but he was also unexpectedly romantic. It meant something to him that she had agreed to dress in a wedding gown for him. She still couldn’t believe that he had planned the entire event knowing there was a good chance she might not agree. She liked that he was romantic and that he’d showed that to her now. She needed it. She needed to know she was important to him.

Because she couldn’t talk, couldn’t tell him what he meant to her, she reached up to knot his tie. Her hands trembled. Even in heels she was quite a bit shorter than he was and she had to reach to get his tie straight.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Are you?”

He took her hand. “More than ready. I never thought I’d ever have you, Giacinta. Never. I couldn’t even imagine a woman as perfect for me as you are.”

She ducked her head and allowed him to secure the long, sheer veil in her hair. Heart pounding, she stepped out the door with him. The priest was patiently waiting. Hand in hand, they followed him into the small chapel. Just inside the entryway, the priest stopped and turned to them.

A man stood to one side of the priest. He was tall and broad-shouldered. His hair was long. Very long. He wore it pulled back in a very tidy tail down his back. His arms bulged under his suit jacket. Tattoos drifted up his neck. His eyes were a piercing green. Not silver, but green. Still, she recognized those eyes. Prakenskii eyes. Beside her, Lissa heard Casimir’s swift intake of breath and knew he had recognized those eyes.

“Viktor.” He barely breathed the name. Stunned. Shocked. His voice sounded choked.

Viktor was the most intimidating man she’d ever seen in her life. That was saying something when she knew six of the seven Prakenskii brothers. Even dressed in his suit, he looked more a dangerous, badass biker than a businessman. She doubted that he could ever have changed roles the way Casimir did. Even so, emotion played over his face for just a moment, the green in his eyes going dark. He hooked his younger brother around the nape of his neck and dragged him close, right into a deep hug—something she almost couldn’t believe someone so scary-looking would do.

“How?” Casimir asked as he straightened, his hand still firmly clasped in his brother’s as if they’d both forgotten they were also shaking hands.

Viktor jerked his head at the priest. “You needed a koumbaros, one to watch over the two of you for the rest of your lives. He sent for me.” The smile faded from his face. “This is your woman?”

“Giacinta Abbracciabene, my brother, Viktor,” Casimir introduced, reaching once again for Lissa’s hand. He brought her fingertips to his mouth. “She’s the one. My woman.” He put her hand in Viktor’s.

“Little sister,” Viktor said. “It is good to meet you. Let’s get this done and we’ll have a few minutes to visit before I have to go. I have to be on a freighter in a couple of hours.” He squeezed her hand, his eyes searching her face before he put her hand back in Casimir’s.

Her heart pounded. She had the feeling that he could see into her soul and if she didn’t measure up, he’d slit her throat right there on the spot. In front of Casimir. In front of the priest. Right there in the church. He’d do it without hesitation and walk away, never looking back.

“Your woman is beautiful, Casimir.”

Casimir pulled Lissa closer to him. “She is,” he agreed.

“I’ll need the rings.”

Casimir handed Viktor the wedding rings. “Your being here means the world to me, Viktor,” he said. “I don’t know how . . .”

“Means the world to me as well,” Viktor said, cutting him off.

He sounded like he was stating the stark truth. Lissa felt her throat close, a huge lump there. Tears burned behind her eyes and she blinked rapidly, not wanting to mess up her makeup, but so grateful that Casimir had his brother there. His oldest brother, the one he—like all the others—worried about the most. None of them had heard from him for a very long time. He was operating deep undercover and hadn’t surfaced in so long they were all afraid something had happened to him.

The priest began the ceremony, reciting Bible passages and blessings. He then made the sign of the cross while he held the rings in his palm, declaring the betrothal. Holding the rings in his hands, he pressed first Casimir’s forehead three times and then followed suit doing the same to Lissa’s forehead. Viktor took the rings from the priest and exchanged them three times between Casimir and Lissa, symbolizing that the weakness of one would be offset by the other.

Lissa’s ring was slipped onto the third finger of her right hand. It was a beautiful, ornate band, matching the thicker band that was Casimir’s. His ring was put onto his finger next. They stood for a moment, Lissa smiling up at Casimir, her heart in her eyes. She became aware of Viktor watching her closely. She couldn’t blame him. He wanted to know that his brother was really going to be happy with the woman of his choice, but still, the direct dark green gaze was disconcerting.

Casimir held Lissa’s right hand and the priest handed them both a lit candle to be held in their left hands. Casimir leaned down to whisper in her ear while the priest continued his blessings as they approached the altar. “We hold hands for the rest of the ceremony, golubushka, to show we are one.”

Viktor leaned down from the other side. “The flames from the candles show you are both willing to receive God’s blessings.”

At the altar, with the priest holding his hand over their joined hands, Viktor presented them with crowns of orange blossoms and other beautiful flowers mixed with semiprecious stones. The garlands were joined together by a white ribbon. “These crowns stay with you for life,” Viktor whispered to Lissa.

The priest took the crowns and placed one on Lissa’s head and the other on Casimir’s while the two of them faced the altar. Viktor switched the crowns three times between the couple in the age-old ritual symbolizing unity.

While the priest read more Bible passages to them, Lissa looked up at the man who was joining his life to hers. He was absolutely confident, following the priest’s every word, his hand firmly in hers.

Wine was next, each drinking three times from a shared cup. “The cup represents life and symbolizes sorrow and joy that the two of you will always share from this day forward,” Viktor explained. “As you drink from the cup, be reminded that you will divide your sorrows and your joys will be doubled.”

Lissa liked that he explained the various ceremonies. She knew enough Russian to understand the priest, but she wasn’t familiar with the wedding rituals and what they meant. The priest spoke rapidly in his native language, making it harder to follow, so the explanations were very welcome.

Viktor and the priest led Casimir and Lissa around the altar three times. She noted that both a Bible and a cross were prominent on the altar. Everything clearly was done in threes. Viktor sang three hymns softly, his voice rich and deep, as they took their first steps as man and wife together.

The priest said a few more prayers over them, ending with the traditional, ancient phrase “May you live.”

He shook Viktor’s hand and then Casimir’s before he faded away, leaving the three together.

“I’ve got a villa for the night,” Casimir said. “No one will be there but us. Do you have time to visit?”

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said, shaking his head, his voice tinged with regret. “I took a chance coming. I have to be on the freighter before it sails. No one knows I’m in the country. Officially, of course, I’m not. I’ve got some friends taking me back, but they won’t be able to cover for me for long. I don’t dare miss my ride.” He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder as he leaned down to brush a kiss on Lissa’s cheek. “Lazzaro has a small room set aside where we can visit for a few minutes.”

Casimir held tightly to Lissa’s hand as they followed Viktor down a narrow hallway to a small room with four chairs and a coffee table. Other than those five pieces of furniture, the room was bare. Casimir helped Lissa to remove her crown and veil and sit in the most comfortable chair before he sank into the one beside her, taking off his crown as well.

“You haven’t checked in with anyone, Viktor.” Casimir knew it sounded like a reprimand—and it was. “All of us were worried. We weren’t even certain you were alive.”

Viktor shrugged. “It couldn’t be helped. In the beginning, when I first joined the motorcycle club, I was watched all the time. I’ve managed to work my way up in rank and I’m trusted far more than I was, but my target is very paranoid. He used to ride with the club all the time, but now he’s elusive. I’ve managed to slowly get my people in place and they have my back, so it isn’t as dangerous as it was in the beginning when I was out there with no one, surrounded by a hundred enemies.”

Casimir swore in Russian. “We would have come.”

Viktor nodded. “Precisely why I didn’t tell any of you what I was doing. Of course you would have come. I didn’t want that for you, for any of you. You’re the last one to find his woman. Tell me about the others.”

“You’re the last one to find his woman,” Casimir corrected. He didn’t want Viktor to give up his life because his brothers were settled.

Viktor shook his head. “I was the first,” he said. He pressed his thumb into the middle of his palm. “When this is over, I’m going to stake my claim. She won’t like it, me being gone so long, but . . .” He shrugged. His features were hard. Implacable.

Casimir didn’t think that boded very well for his woman. “Does this woman know she’s been claimed?”

“She’d better know it,” Viktor said.

“Really?” Lissa asked, her voice innocent. Too innocent. The sheer arrogance of the man rubbed her the wrong way. “So you kept in touch with her for the past . . . how long have you been undercover? Five years?”

Viktor narrowed his gaze. “Deep undercover means no communicating with the outside world that might put someone you care about in jeopardy.”

Lissa nodded. Casimir shifted closer to her, uncertain what exactly was taking place between his wife and his brother.

“So this woman of yours knew you were going undercover.”

“Wife. My fucking wife.”

Lissa’s eyebrows shot up and her fingers tightened around Casimir’s. Glancing down at her, he realized she was angry. “Your wife then. You told her you were going deep undercover, right? There were ways you would let her know you weren’t dead.”

“She knows.”

“Good. Otherwise she might be dating someone else, or maybe, if she didn’t know she was already someone’s wife, married to someone else.”

Viktor went still. Scary still. The room shuddered. “That happens, sister, and her new husband won’t have long for this world.”

“Not a good idea to leave a woman alone for five years, brother,” Lissa continued, “especially if she’s smokin’ hot. And a runner. She goes running down the highway and she’s bound to stop traffic and then where are you going to be? Oh wait. I know. Somewhere deep undercover while she’s all alone and lonely. Surrounded by men who think she’s smokin’ hot, because she is.”

“What the hell, Giacinta?” Casimir demanded.

Beside him, Lissa moved restlessly, drawing Viktor’s sharp gaze. Lissa looked down at her wedding ring, the band that was tucked up tight against the diamond he’d given her earlier in the day.

“I just wouldn’t want you to ever do that kind of thing to me, Casimir,” Lissa said. “I wouldn’t be in the least understanding, and I’m a little outraged on all my fellow sisters’ behalf.”

There was a small silence, Viktor staring down at her face for a long moment before he sighed and changed the subject. “Tell me about the farm. You live there, right? Where my brothers live?”

Her gaze jumped to his face. “They’re happy.” Her voice was strictly neutral. “Even Gavriil. He’s still in a lot of pain, but Lexi is working with that and hopes to alleviate it, at least most of it. All of them are doing well.”

Casimir waited, but Lissa didn’t mention her other sisters. He took a breath and then let it out. The temperature in the room had gone up a couple of degrees. That wasn’t his brother’s temper. That was Lissa.

“Your brothers are going to want to know what your life is like.”

“My life?” Viktor echoed. “Baby, my life is totally fucked, but I put myself there and I’m going to get the job done no matter what. Then I’ll go claim my life.” There was no bitterness in his voice, only a statement of fact.

Casimir knew that no matter how bad they might think Viktor’s situation was it was probably a hundred times worse, or he would have at least contacted his brothers. “You know the Sorbacovs have a hit out on all of us, Ilya included.”

“I heard. I know that you told Lazzaro that your woman planned to go with you to take them out for us.”

Viktor didn’t sound in the least approving. In fact, he sounded like a freaking male chauvinist. Just looking at him, seeing the hard, set lines in his face, she could see he was implacable. He’d be hell to live with. Difficult to understand. And he wouldn’t care. His woman would be expected to live life his way. On his terms.

Lissa’s fingers tightened in Casimir’s. “Actually, Casimir is going with me,” she corrected, her chin going up. “We figured with him along the chances were better that we’d get them both and walk away alive.”

“You do that, call Lazzaro. He’ll be waiting for that call and he’ll get the two of you out of the country fast if you need it. He’s more than willing to help, and he’s one of the few we can absolutely count on.”

Casimir nodded, not bothering to correct his woman. He’d been planning all along to kill the Sorbacovs. He still wasn’t certain he liked the idea of Lissa going with him and taking center stage, but he knew there was no dissuading her. She had a stubborn streak and she’d made up her mind, even more so now that she knew he had planned to get rid of them.

“These men backing you up, Viktor. You’re sure of their loyalty?”

Viktor nodded. “They grew up with me. We’re all that’s left of the old school. Eighteen of us from one hundred and thirty. We stuck by one another in training and after. The strongest, all psychics, all men Kostya Sorbacov couldn’t control. He was afraid of every one of us. One by one, the others slipped Kostya’s leash and signed on with me. Our target was the president of the motorcycle club called Sword. The club started in the United States but now has chapters in Europe. He ran drugs, arms and was the number one suspect across Europe for human trafficking. He’s originally from Greece. His mother took him and ran to the United States to get away from her husband. She ran with the club in the States, and he detested her man. Actually, her man’s son. When I say detested him, I mean, he thinks about killing him every minute of every hour of every day. The target inherited a shitload of money from his brother and with that, the ships to help hide the worst of his trafficking, and that includes children.”

Lissa pulled in a breath. “You’re talking about Evan Shackler-Gratsos. Airiana and Max rescued four children from one of his ships. They say he’s a ghost.”

“He’s no ghost. Word is, he wants to kill Jackson Deveau himself. He put the word out that no one else can touch him. He’ll have to come out of the shadows to make his try and then we’ll have him.”

“You’re telling us this because?” Casimir said. “Deep undercover is for your protection, Viktor, not just those you care about. You shouldn’t have said a word of this to us, or anyone else.”

“I don’t get the fucker, you tell Gavriil and the others. They have to get him.” His gaze lingered on Lissa’s face. “You know enough to keep your mouth shut until there’s no other way.”

Lissa nodded slowly. Casimir could see that she was more inclined to feel favorably toward Viktor, although she still had a look in her eyes that indicated she wanted to rip into him and the temperature in the room hadn’t gone down in the least.

“Viktor, these men you have with you, are you certain they’ll stand with you? You take down the president of a club that size and you’re vulnerable. The members know you. They know your face. You’ve ridden with them for five years. Say you manage it, what’s to say they don’t come after you a year from now, and you’re hunted, just like the Sorbacovs are hunting us now.”

“They’ll stand with me. They’ve always stood with me.” Something crossed his face. Something dark and sinister. In that moment, Viktor looked every inch of what he was—what he’d been shaped into. It was dark and it was ugly. “That school, Casimir . . .” He shook his head. “We had to hold on to something or we would have died like the rest of them. We had to trust one another. We’ve been doing that since we were boys. They’re solid. They’ll stand with me, before it’s done. While we’re getting it done and after. They’ll be with me.”

“After?” Casimir echoed.

“We’ll get this last job done, and if you do manage to rid the world of the Sorbacovs, we’ll finally be free.”

“The club will send someone after you, Viktor,” Casimir repeated.

Viktor shrugged, his face hard, eyes dead and flat. “Let them. Sea Haven isn’t their territory. They can’t just ride around openly with their colors and not get retaliation from the local clubs. We’ll be together, and there isn’t one of my brothers that isn’t lethal. Most of us are too fucked up to try to live in society with society’s rules, but we have a plan. We’ll stick to it and we’ll be all right, looking after one another.”

“Do your blood brothers have any place in that plan of yours?” Casimir asked, trying not to be hurt. They’d all waited so long to be together. Casimir was risking his life to free them all, and it sounded as if Viktor didn’t plan on hanging around.

“I’ll be living right there on that sweet farm with you,” Viktor said, his gaze suddenly sharp. Piercing. On Lissa.

Casimir glanced at his woman, saw her eyebrows shoot up again, and this time she dug her nails into his palm.

“How lovely.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Gavriil’s dog just had puppies. I’m certain there’s room in the doghouse for you to stay.”

Viktor’s green eyes glittered with menace for a long moment and then he burst out laughing. “Your woman has a bad attitude, Casimir. You aware of all that sass before you married her?”

“Yes,” Casimir admitted. “And that makes me either the smartest man in the world or the dumbest.”

What in the hell is wrong with you? he demanded.

Her chin went up. He’d forgotten she could also be the most stubborn. Someone ought to kick him very hard in the shins. And when I say hard, I mean hard enough so he carries a big fat bruise for a month. He needs to wake up.

“I’ll take the doghouse until I get things straightened out,” Viktor said. “And trust me, little sister, when I decide to straighten things out, they get that way fast.”