It’s mostly because of him that I still have my daughter in one piece. But it’s also because of him that she got to that state, so I will be considering that incident neutral.
“How is that girl?” Lia asks Creighton while Annika chases Yan with a flower because he keeps calling her a food terrorist.
“Girl?” he echoes with a hoarse throat—definitely not as unaffected with the food as he claims to be.
“The one who told us about where you took Annika.”
“Cecily?”
My wife nods.
“Do you really want to know?”
She inches closer, her soft features creasing. “Why? What happened?”
“You do realize that Jeremy didn’t get that information out of her by being a good sport, right?”
My wife swallows. “I figured as much. He…can be cold-blooded, he takes that after his father, but they do have a heart beneath it all, I promise.”
“That’s what my mother says about my brother, and the worst part is that she believes it, but we all know he’s a functioning psychopath.”
“Jeremy isn’t a psychopath.”
“In view of what he’s done, he’s probably worse.”
“What did he do?”
“I promised him I’d stay out of his way if he stays out of mine, and I’d like to keep that truce. Not for self-serving purposes, but for Annika’s sake. She doesn’t like it when we clash.”
Lia nods in understanding, and I want to haul my son back from the other side of the ocean and shake the fuck out of him.
He’s not supposed to accept Creighton this easily, or fast, no matter what type of deal they struck.
Though after Annika shot Creighton to save him, his disapproval was slowly subsiding anyway.
“I hate to see her go, too, but maybe we should let Annika make her choice this time, Dad,” is what he told me the last time we saw each other.
That’s obviously because of whatever deal he struck with this little shit.
Said little shit gets up, whispers something to Annika that she pauses her antics with Yan to hear, then she smiles widely at him.
He walks toward the house and I hide out of view as he goes into the bathroom, probably to wash his face or throw up whatever she fed him.
When he emerges, I don’t bother to hide and he pauses before he heads in the direction of the garden.
I block his path and he stops, raising a brow. “Is this my welcome? Or do you have a gun hidden somewhere to threaten me with?”
“You’re awfully talkative today.”
“And you’re suspiciously not threatening me with bodily harm.”
“We’ll get to that point in a few.”
“By all means. Let’s get the tedious chore over with.”
“Was that sarcasm?”
“Was it? Annika is rubbing off on me.”
This little fucking shit will be buried six feet under before my wife and daughter wake up tomorrow.
He takes a step toward me, all nonchalance vanishing from his face. “I’m happy to indulge in whatever threatening kink you have going on, and I won’t tell Annika or Lia about it, but I’m telling you right now that you won’t be able to get me away from what’s mine.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“Mine. Annika is mine, and no one will change that fact, not even you.”
“Annika will get over you eventually.”
“Keep dreaming, Adrian, and while you’re at it, I’ll become your son-in-law. We’ll work hard to give you beautiful grandchildren.”
“Not if you somehow end up dead before that. And who gave you permission to call me by my name?”
“I don’t like Mr. Volkov. Too long.”
Either this fucker is bold or he has no care whatsoever for his life. Or probably both.
“Also, if you’re so territorial, how come you still haven’t done something about him?”
I turn around so that we’re both facing the scene in the garden. Annika splutters on water and Lia bends over laughing at something Yan has said while he grins like an idiot.
“He’s a fucking clown who doesn’t know his place,” I mutter under my breath.
“Which you should’ve taught him a long time ago,” Creighton says with an equally displeased tone.
“You think I haven’t tried? He bounces back up like a parasite whose sole purpose is to piss me off.”
“Annika mentioned that you’ve often threatened to ship him to the Special Forces back in Russia. Is there a reason that hasn’t happened?”