Shaun woke slowly to the constant shaking of her shoulder. She mumbled and tried to roll away from the annoying thing that was touching her. The sound of a soft chuckle annoyed her further so she pushed herself up in the bed and glared around the room, trying find the source of her ire. Of course, no one except Jozef was allowed in their bedroom unless there was an emergency, so it was his face she saw, lit by the soft glow of a lamp. She tried to blink away the heaviness of her sleep as she focused on him, the annoyance at being woken up falling away. Jozef didn't wake her unless he had a good reason. "What's wrong?" she asked groggily. He began signing and it took a moment for her sleepy brain to catch up and follow his signals. "Saskia?" she asked, finally picking up on what he was trying to tell her. "Saskia is here?" He nodded, his expression serious. Shaun fought with the bedding until she could slide off the bed and stand, wobbling
"A Mr. Dietrick and a Special Agent Moreau to see Mr. Koba." Jozef looked up from his desk, paperwork spread across the surface, and tried to reengage his brain. He'd been consumed by Krystoff's meticulous record-keeping, not something he had suspected his uncle capable of. Yet the evidence of Krystoff's obsessive need to record every interaction, be it financial, contractual or personal, filled a small room of file cabinets next to his office. Jozef had been engrossed in the records surrounding Leeza's marriage when Atlas had interrupted him. Though Jozef had recently found out about Leeza's parentage, it turned out that Krystoff had known for years and her marriage appeared to be based on the knowledge. Jozef couldn't figure out why, unless it was petty revenge against his now-beloved wife. He'd wanted her to suffer in some small way for birthing a bastard into the family and accomplished it by giving the girl away in marriage to a monster. The more Jozef read, the mor
Shaun rifled through her purse, making sure she had everything she needed for a trip into the city. Cell phone, wallet, tissues, tampons, taser, pepper spray, mini first aid kit. She grinned to herself as she exited her bedroom. Her life had changed enormously. Two years ago, she would never have imagined carrying a taser and pepper spray. Of course, Jozef was the one who insisted she carry some form of protection. He told her she wouldn't be allowed to leave the house unless she had the correct accessories. She skipped down the wide staircase, her steps happy and light. She was going to meet Dr. ?ern? at the hospital to go over the particulars of their upcoming joint surgery. She was so happy to finally get back to work that nothing could bring her down. Or so she thought, until she rounded the bottom of the staircase, heading for Jozef's office to say goodbye before she left. Standing in the hall was a group of men. Jozef, Havel and two men she didn't
The drive to the hospital took about thirty minutes. Shaun chatted amicably with Cooper, her new favourite bodyguard. He was growing on her more and more every day, a bit like a foot fungus. He encroached on her personal space, chattered incessantly and made inappropriate and unfunny jokes. He was one of those people who treated death like it was a hilarious affliction. But he was sweet when it counted, and he was always respectful. "You think the boss man will have those two assholes killed?" This was from Cooper. Shaun rolled her eyes at him. They were sitting together in the back seat of an SUV that had been assigned to Shaun for her visits into the city. Two other bodyguards sat up front. Both were straight-faced and uninterested in what was happening in the back seat. "Why would Jozef tell me he was going to kill someone?" she asked, not bothering to feel appalled by the question. She was getting used to Cooper. "I'm a doctor." "What does that have t
Dasha sat on the hospital bed, her back straight as a poker, her face clear of expression as the attending doctor lifted her arm, put his hand against her elbow and pushed, then rotated the arm at the shoulder. He did the motion several times. "On a scale of one to ten, how much discomfort are you feeling?" Dasha glared at the man. What a fool. He hadn't given her any basis of comparison. What was a one? A pinch, or a slap? Then a ten must be a severed limb. "One," she told him, her gaze steady on the wall past his shoulder. The doctor grunted. "There's no point in hiding your pain, Mrs. Evanoff. I can prescribe something to help if you'll allow me." Condescending man! Would he say the same if it had been her husband sitting there? Or another man? No, he would not. He would allow them to bear their pain with dignity. Dasha regretted that she was forced to come to the hospital for her treatment. She would have preferred Krystoff's personal ph
She hit the floor, rolled again until she was on her back and aimed the pistol, preparing to fire. Her eyes met the startled face of Nikolay. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she growled, shoving hair out of her face and lowering the gun. When she'd left Cece's, she'd gone to the only person who might actually help her. It was a risk but having a man on the inside was also a bonus. Nikolay helped set her up with the apartment and a car. Dasha had known well before Krystoff's death that Nikolay was betraying Jozef. She'd first suspected when he started turning up at the mansion after Jozef had moved into his club. Dasha had questioned Krystoff, and he'd admitted that Nikolay was in his pocket. Though Dasha wanted revenge, wanted to bring the killer of her husband down, she still despised Nikolay for his lack of loyalty. Perhaps it was his generation. None of them had loyalty anymore. If Jozef had been loyal, he wouldn't have gone rogue and the family w
Shaun sat on the balcony of her suite, gazing blindly toward the garden and sipping at her first cup of morning coffee. She wore a heavy sweater with a coat over top and a pair of knit gloves, in concession to the wintery weather. She looked the picture of contentment, but images could be deceiving. Inside, her brain whirred like a squirrel on speed, racing on a hamster wheel. Her thoughts bounced from her dislike of living in the mansion, to her upcoming surgery, to the dull ache in her chest when she thought of Jozef. The ache was bittersweet. The moments they snatched for themselves were amazing. They came together in a combination of explosive sex, laughter, and signed conversations. The evening before, Jozef had surprised her with a picnic on the living room floor of their suite. It had everything, from a checkered blanket, to chocolate covered strawberries and champagne on ice. There was an envelope next to the champagne with her name embossed on it. "What
Shaun sat gingerly on the couch, moving a porcelain doll so she wouldn't sit on it. She rubbed Saskia's arm. "It's only for a few more days, until Jozef can make sure it's safe for you to return to campus. He has to make sure the deal your father brokered with the dean of the university is still going to be honoured." "That's what he says," Saskia charged. "But I think he's keeping me here because I'm a flight risk." Saskia's frustration was real, but Shaun suspected it wasn't entirely directed at Jozef. Saskia had tasted a moment of freedom and had looked forward to finally having the world at her fingertips. Now, she was right back where she started, but her entire family dynamic had changed. "Are you a flight risk?" Shaun asked gently. Saskia chewed on her lip and then swallowed hard, her eyelashes fluttering so the tears wouldn't spill. "I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe." She exhaled. "Things just feel so different now. It was never awesome l
Jozef sat in the window of his hut, looking out at the incredible cerulean blue of the ocean beyond. When Shaun had found out that Jozef had never spent time near the ocean, except briefly when he was on mission, she'd insisted they choose an oceanside setting for their honeymoon. It had been four months since Jozef had murdered his aunt, and he still thought about that moment. Her confessions, her reaction to his being there. He felt intense anger when he thought of her killing his parents and her attacks on Shaun, but time had given him a better perspective. She'd grown up in the mafia. She'd been highly intelligent and motivated. Like Jozef, like his uncle, like the best in the business. Perhaps if she'd been born a man, given her own organization to play god with, she might have channeled her abilities into better use. Her death made him think long and hard about himself. He wasn't much different. He killed too. She used death and destruction to manipulate w
Saskia loved everything about school. She loved the books, she loved her laptop, she loved taking notes, she even loved exams. When Jozef deemed it safe enough for her to return to the University, she'd immediately registered for her winter classes. It took some cajoling to get into a few of them, given her late attendance, but she managed a full course load. Saskia loved university and opted to spend more time on campus than off. She ate in the cafeteria, she studied all over the place, wherever she could find a sunny nook. She spent time in the library almost every day, soaking in the atmosphere. It was the university that made her return to Prague bearable. The shining goal of finishing her linguistics degree. As a child she had grown up with tutors, only attending classes with other students in her two years of boarding school. That had been different from the university. The students were similar age and background, and class sizes were limited to a handful
Dasha woke with a start, the clicking of heels on the tiles of the hospital floor reminding her of muffled gunshots. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm her pounding heart. Slowly, painfully, she sat up, reaching for the water on her nightstand. The process was made awkward by her other hand being cuffed to the bed. She'd been transferred the day before. She'd waited as long as she could manage before finally giving away her condition. She'd been in so much pain, the poison twisting her guts; the fever raging through her that she'd raved with hallucinations. Screamed obscenities at the prison staff as they strapped her to a gurney and moved her. She took long sips of water, pulling it through the paper straw. It felt like heaven against a throat raw from days of vomiting. Her hand shook as she set the water down. Collapsing against the pillows, she forced herself to stay awake, to keep alert. She was here for a reason. Someone had poisoned her. Not some
Your mother is here, Jozef signed, crouching next to the bed. Shaun looked at him, tears bright in her eyes. She hadn't stopped crying in almost two days. She tried to tell herself to snap out of it, to stop feeling sorry for herself. But she couldn't. Of everything that had happened to her in the past few years, this felt the worst. It was the final straw. She couldn't take anymore. "I don't want to see her." Jozef frowned, thunderclouds growing in his eyes. You turned her away yesterday, which we allowed since you need time to heal, but you will not turn her away today. You need your mother, and you will see her. He was the epitome of patience when it came to Shaun and her feelings, but he wasn't going to allow Shaun to push her mother away. She could already see it on his face. He thought she needed her mother, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. She pushed herself up on the bed, feeling dizzy and nauseous. She hadn't left the bed si
"Krystoff..." He moved closer to the bed. Dasha squinted against the harsh glaring light, but he still looked like nothing more than a shadow, frustratingly insubstantial. She knew it was him, though. She knew his shape, his scent, his touch... She'd poisoned him. More than once. She hadn't regretted it at the time, but she regretted it now. She worshipped him. She shouldn't have manipulated his love. Soon she would be with him again, and she would have to explain her actions and hope he could forgive her. Dasha had poisoned her first victim when she was five years old. Miss Anya. She'd hated her nursemaid. The woman was sour, dour, and no fun at all. She insisted Dasha wear dresses and always have her hair brushed. She was never allowed out if the weather was bad, and she was always made to complete her studies. If she didn't learn her letters, then she would get a sharp smack across the knuckles. Dasha had overheard her mot
Jozef didn't know what to do. It was a strange sensation for him. He always knew what to do, but this time he was out of his element. He crouched next to Shaun's chair, holding her hands in his as she sobbed. He hated every tear that crawled down her face. He was usually the one to cause her tears, but this time, it wasn't him. It was the doctor who'd disappeared discreetly from the room. They were in the fertility clinic where Shaun had gotten her referral. They'd been called to the clinic for the results of their first round of testing. Her tears dripped onto his hands where they were clasping hers. He bowed his own head, blinking back his own tears. Her heart was breaking, and he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't kill the thing without hurting the woman he loved more than anyone or anything in the world. He couldn't kill PCOS. Polycystic ovary syndrome. Shaun was infertile and the diagnosis was destroying her. He would have to take go
Nikolay had a bad feeling. He'd had it for months, but when no one accused him of betraying Jozef, he'd shoved the feeling aside. They didn't know. He was safe. Then why did he feel like the sword of Damocles was hanging over his head, awaiting the right moment to drop? "Saskia." He'd been standing in the shadows outside her suite, waiting for her to appear. She was coming down the hall toward him, her blue headphones wrapped around her neck, her wild brown hair a messy halo around her head. She wore tight ripped jeans, a black hoodie and running shoes. It hit him that she was really quite beautiful in her own way. He'd never found her particularly attractive when they'd dated. She was too wild and headstrong, and he preferred his women compliant. Submissive. Not words one could use in association with Saskia Koba. Yet, in this moment, with the light of the sun behind her, she looked ethereal. He felt a moment of loss, but quickly shook it away. His
Fatima giggled at Shaun's description of a drunk Jozef. "He must've been a bear the next morning," Fatima mused. "It seems so out of character for him to overindulge." Shaun laughed and sipped the rich burgundy liquid from her wine glass. "He was certainly growling like a bear. It took a lot of convincing before he would let me take care of him, but I finally got some painkillers and toast into him and he turned back into a human. Later, he told me he rarely drank that much and didn't plan on ever doing it again." "Famous last words." "Yes," Shaun agreed. "Though Jozef is usually pretty responsible. I think it was the excitement of meeting with the other Vor for the first time. I wonder if the other wives discovered drunk husbands in their rooms that night?" Shaun was filling her mother in on the details of her trip to Russia with Jozef. The five days spent at the palace were indeed the vacation Jozef had suggested they would be. Except for evening m
Shaun sucked in a breath as images from that day slammed through her. She had worked with her counsellor on mitigating their impact, but when the head of the Vor told her she was meant to be dead, it was like a fresh wound being ripped open again. "So I've been told," she murmured, bringing her teacup to her lips with a shaking hand. "You survived." He didn't sound either approving or disapproving, and Shaun wondered where the direction of the conversation was going. "You were poisoned, and you survived. You were attacked, stabbed, and you survived. Your husband was attacked, many within the building fell, yet you still survived." A chill ran through Shaun and she felt nauseous. She desperately wished she'd told Jozef where she was going. Was Ivan angry over the deaths that seemed to follow Shaun? Did he blame her for what happened to Krystoff? She didn't know what to say to Ivan, but he'd paused, seeming to expect some kind of response. "Yes, I survived."