“Do not worry about Aiden.”
“Surely you can tell me if you’ve spoken to him. It wouldn’t hurt. I just want to know if he’s okay.”
Ilya lifts his head and looks at me. “I haven’t heard anything. Sometimes that’s how it works. That’s how our lives are and there’s nothing we can do about it, just wait.”
“I’m sorry you’re here babysitting me when you could be with him.”
His eyes cling to mine and I’m surprised when something in his hard features softens. It’s only slight, but noticeable because I’m not used to it.
“Whether you’re here or in San Francisco I would still be babysitting you. Aiden was always going to send his best guard to watch over you until it was safe. I’m the best, and as such I will do my best to protect you.”
“Thank you. It means a lot.”
“Well, at least this way we get the news of what’s happening quicker , even if we have to wait. Now eat.”
I nod and continue eating.
Silence fills the space between us and I recall what he said about having daughters. He said he had them. Had as in past tense. I think to ask him about that, but stop myself.
He gives me a sharp look and focuses on me.
“What are you looking at?”
“I was thinking about what you said, about having daughters. I just wondered about them. You seem to always be around Aiden.”
“My family is dead,” he answers curtly and instantly I feel sorry I brought up the subject.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. Now please eat. If Aiden discovers you haven’t eaten he’ll be pissed at me, then I’ll be pissed at you.”
I give him a kind smile and take another bite of food to humor him.
When I polish off the toast I hear something weird outside. Like a… groan.
Ilya hears it too because he snaps his head in the direction the sound came from.
Before we can stand to check it out the distinct echo of a bullet pieces through the silence and we bolt up.
Suddenly, the shouts of men mingle with gun fire and Ilya pulls out his guns from his back pocket.
“Get upstairs right now and do what Aiden told you to do. Take the bag and head out the back window,” Ilya says.
‘Will you be okay?”
“Go, no.”
I move running upstairs at the same time the windows smash in.
I go into the bedroom, grab the bag, and take out the gun.
My instinct to survive kick in and I slip the bag over my shoulders and run back out on to the landing.
But, God in heaven there are men coming up the stairs after me.
I hold out the gun and shoot two of them in the head before they can see me. That alerts the others and more come. More mean looking men who look like they belong in the dee far corners of hell.
These guys are not like any I’ve seen. It’s like the mutated worst of the bunch and some have the same tattoo I saw on Eric’s arm.