Havel grunted and stumbled back as he absorbed Jozef's blow. Jozef was beating the shit out of him, while he'd only landed a couple of blows. It went this way every time they sparred. Havel was heavy with muscle, while Jozef was light on his feet and wiry. Muscles roped the younger man's arms as he danced before landing each blow. Havel was next only to Jozef. No one else could beat him, which was his only consolation after a good ass-whooping courtesy of his best friend and boss. Jozef didn't pull his punches but attacked full force and danced away before Havel could land a single blow. Havel was still catching his breath when he saw Jozef come at him out of the corner of his eye. He held up his boxing glove and shouted, "Mercy." Though the sound was muffled through his mouth guard, Jozef heard him and stopped his advance. Havel dropped to his knees, spat out his mouth guard and sucked precious air into his lungs. Each breath sent a blast of nause
"That was amazing!" Elisa said enthusiastically, stripping her gloves off and shoving them into the hazardous materials bin. She flung her mask in next, revealing a toothy grin. "You were phenomenal. What a success!" Shaun smiled ruefully, stripping off her own mask, gown and gloves. "We won't know until the patient wakes up and goes through the after surgery protocols." Elisa rolled her eyes. "You know it was a success. You're as much a surgeon as I am. You know the feeling when something goes really well and your patient comes through with flying colours. We may have bought Branislav more than a few years." "Yes, I know that feeling," Shaun agreed, her tone still serious. "And I've been wrong before. I'll wait for the patient to wake up and start talking before I pass judgment on the success of the surgery." "You are such a... what is that American term?" Elisa looked thoughtful before coming up with the answer. "A party-pooper. You are pooping on my party
Saskia's ears were covered with the bright blue mufflers she used when she was shooting. She'd been shooting more than usual, trying to release some of the tension that had been building up over the loss of control of her life. She was going back to school again, but if she'd thought her father went ridiculously overboard on the protection detail, Jozef was on a whole other level. He wanted the entire campus crawling with their people, protecting her and, in her opinion, keeping her prisoner. In the house, she felt like a stranger. It looked the same, but it wasn't. Her parents were gone, her sister was gone, and in their place was Jozef and Shaun. She loved and respected her cousin, but she knew he was hunting her mother. Her mother! The bitch who gave birth to her and then ruined all of their lives. Still, she didn't want her mother to die. She'd pleaded with Jozef to allow her to take care of their mother, to imprison her and keep her safe. Of course,
Two weeks. That was how long it took Dasha to get to Shaun. She'd had to be patient for two solid weeks as the other woman came and went, free as a bird. Dasha's fantasies of murder and mayhem became bloodier and bloodier with each passing day. Shaun killed her husband. Shaun took her home. Shaun twisted her nephew, turning him against his family. It was all Shaun's fault. The mantra repeated itself in her mind over and over until she wanted to scream. She didn't, of course. She kept it all in, the same as she kept everything in from the moment she realized, as a child, that watching, waiting and learning was the best way to get to what she wanted. She wouldn't fuck up this time. Everything had been timed down to the second. She wouldn't wait for Shaun to get the upper hand, she would take her out quickly and walk away, like the ghost she'd become as she flitted around the hospital, avoiding cameras and guards. Shaun walked
"Interpol is taking her in now. I talked to Moreau and he's assures me that she'll be processed in country." Jozef grunted his acknowledgment and hung up. He preferred text, but this was one of those rare times he'd insisted on a phone call. He'd wanted to know the moment Dasha was taken into custody. Instead of elation, he felt a heaviness that had been growing over the past few weeks. Not about having his aunt arrested. She was lucky to get off so lightly. If he'd gotten his hands on her first, she'd spend her incarceration in his shed, dying inch by inch, a little more each day. The heaviness came from his disappointment in Shaun. She'd kept a secret from him. She'd arranged for Dasha's arrest behind his back. Thanks to Cooper, Jozef had known from the inception of Moreau's plan, his first meeting with Shaun. Jozef had gone out that night to confront Moreau about his use of Shaun in what could be a potentially dangerous situation. Dasha had nothing to
Shaun stared down at the stick in her hand, waiting and watching, trying not to shake it. She sighed heavily and forced herself to set the stick on the edge of the sink. She stood, pulled up her leggings and washed her hands, splashing water everywhere because she was too busy staring at the pregnancy test. She'd never taken one before, but the instructions were easy to follow. It was the wait that was difficult. Two minutes felt like an eternity and every second that ticked by was torture. Her period wasn't late, though it had been a little wonky lately, so she'd bought one of those early pregnancy tests. She and Jozef had been having unprotected sex since they met, and Shaun assumed she kept getting lucky by not getting pregnant. Damn it. How long had it been? One minute, two, three? Why hadn't she brought her phone in with her so she could time it? She paced the length of her washroom, back and forth, trying not to look at the stick. It was a sizeable
Jozef shook his head as he strode away from the master suite, trying to cast off the anger. He knew his response was over the top, but he couldn't help the sense of betrayal that he got every time he thought of Shaun deliberately placing herself in danger to trap his aunt. He'd gone in to talk to her, to tell her that Dasha had been taken into custody. He'd been determined to keep his temper, but every step that brought him closer to her reminded him that yet another person he loved had betrayed him. He tried to tell himself that Shaun didn't understand his world, didn't understand the loyalty that was expected of her. Then he'd seen her and forgotten everything except how it could have easily been her instead of Ayaan staring down the barrel of Dasha's gun that morning. If her bodyguard hadn't been quick in both thoughts and actions, Jozef might not have known what was going on. Dasha was highly intelligent and had been coming and going from the hospital pretty
Shaun had never really been one of those girls who pictured her wedding day. No poufy white dress, no church filled with guests, no reception with speeches and clinking glasses. All of her fantasies had been directed at her career path. Even as a little girl, in her mind, she wore the white doctor's lab coat, a stethoscope and held a clipboard. Her teddy bear patients would get a diagnosis and then they would take the medicine she administered. As she hit her teen years, she began dissecting her teddy bears, carefully pulling the fluff out, examining their insides, then putting them back together. Her father had taught her how to make stitches, so she'd meticulously suture each of her teddy bear victims, giving them horrific scars in the process. Her mother had been concerned by her preoccupation with cutting into her toys, but her father had stood by watching proudly, declaring he had a future surgeon on his hands. Now, as Shaun stood at the head of the church, next to
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."