I cleared my throat and searched for a napkin. There was one between Daniil’s plate and mine, so I grabbed it, wiping my mouth off, and then my fingers. “Growing up, my parents disapproved of violence. I’ve followed in their footsteps on that point of view.” Christ, the BBQ sauce was hard to get off.
She cocked her head, murmuring like she was talking to herself, “Your parents.” She blinked, nodding for some reason. “What exactly do your parents do for a living?”
My stomach full, I rested back on my chair. “My mother’s a director for one of the largest anti-gun coalition companies in the United States.” I sat the now stained napkin down on the table. “And my father’s a preacher.”
Zane started choking on my left.
Daniil began having a coughing fit on my right.
The rest of them stared at me in silence.
Zoya, who looked decidedly ill today, snapped out of it first, offering Daniil a glass of water since he was still coughing. I took my cue from her, and passed Zane his beer since he was making an odd sound in his throat. I glanced back at everyone; well, everyone except for Daniil, who was somewhat quieting down.
What did I say wrong?
Grigori cleared his throat, relaxing on his seat and placing his arm on the back of Zoya’s chair. “Do you still attend church? And believe in your mother’s views?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes.” It felt like I was digging myself into an early grave.
Stash blinked. “So guns make you feel uncomfortable?”
“More than uncomfortable.”
“You go to church, like, every Sunday?” Roman asked, appearing bewildered.
“Yes, when I’m not out on assignment.”
Complete extended quiet.
Chloe cleared her throat, placing her hands on the table. “Okay, let me ask you a hypothetical question. You’re put in a room where a single gun sits on a table directly between you and a man who you know is going to kill you if he reaches it first. What would you do?”
I blinked, my eyebrows coming together. “I have no clue.”
Everyone stared.
Anna jolted on her seat, and stated like she was being helpful, “But she doesn’t have all of her parents’ views.” Heads snapped to her, and her cheeks flushed, but she tapped her neck, and then gestured toward me. Heads jerked back to me, and stared at my covered hickie.
I chuckled. “No. I’m not a nun. I already said it was their views about violence I agree with, not my parents’ every viewpoint.”
They still stared.
My stomach churned once again, feeling incredibly uncomfortable as they gaped. I did not know what the hell their problem was. They were gawking at me as if I had leprosy. I cleared my throat, and glanced to Ember. “I think I’ll take that interview later tonight. I’m going to head back to the resort.” I scooted my chair and lifted my duffle and purse from under the table.
Standing, while they still stared, I placed cash on the table, and turned to leave. Beginning to walk down the line of gawkers, I was suddenly shoved in the chest hard as shit. My body went airborne, flying backward. I hit the floor back first, my breath gone as a man instantly landed on top of me. I threw my hands up…but I was not fast enough. A fist slammed against the side of my face. At least, I think it was a fist. It came out of nowhere, and I could not see anything for a moment, like time literally paused. I was pretty sure I blacked out for a second.
Just as rapidly, there was no one on top of me and I was being lifted off the ground.
I gasped for air, blinking the haze from my eyes, clinging to whatever man’s shirt that was holding me. All I knew was that the person that had lifted me was not attacking me. I wheezed and coughed hard. My chest burned even as little sparkles floated in my vision against the hot pink shirt I was resting against. A hand started rubbing my back, and I shook my head, sounds beginning to register.
There were people shouting, and I tilted my head up when I was finally able to get a decent breath. Lev held me, talking soothingly even while his eyes kept darting over my head. Sucking air, I turned in his embrace, not certain if I could stand completely on my own yet. I held my cheek, feeling blood and wincing as the side of my face throbbed like hell.
Immediately, I pushed farther back against Lev when I saw what was happening.
On the white tiled floor, not even five feet away, was the man who had attacked me.
He had company down there with him.
Daniil had a hand around my assailant’s throat so he could not breathe. Stash pressed his own forearm against my attacker’s chest so he could not move. Grigori was slamming the man’s hands on the ground above his head, in order to make him release the knife he held. Carl held his legs so he could not kick. Everyone else who had been at my table was standing with a gun aimed at him.
I began hyperventilating, sucking in air too fast and too hard.
Where the fuck had all those guns come from?
Daniil spoke harshly in Russian to his and Grigori’s bodyguards, who had started to hover. They nodded and began herding people out of the restaurant. Even the workers were ordered to leave. They did so quickly, gaping at all the weapons. I was ready to run with them. I was full out trembling and wheezing by the time the last person left the establishment. When the door shut, Daniil reached behind his back…and pulled out his own fucking gun.
He placed it against the man’s forehead.
The rest of the group put theirs away, watching calmly.
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe evenly. I could not speak if I could not breathe.
Daniil asked coolly, “Who are you?”
“Brad Fink,” the man rasped.
“Who sent you?” Daniil probed, which I thought was an odd question.
Silence.
I finally got enough air into my lungs, and made myself not stare at the gun pointed at my accoster’s head as I opened my eyes. I focused on Daniil’s face. “Stop. Don’t kill him.”
He paused. “Do you know him?”
“No.”
He kept his attention on the man. “I’ll only ask you one more time, Mr. Fink.” His gaze was lethal. “Who sent you?”
The man whimpered, jerking, his hands shaking under Grigori’s death grip.
My eyes filled with tears. Daniil was seriously going to kill the guy. It was there in his unsympathetic scrutiny. I stared directly into my assailant’s eyes. “Do you know the name of the person who sent you?”
His head shook slightly, his eyes darting everywhere. “No. He just paid me a thousand dollars to snatch your bag.”