“Did I hear someone say lucky?” A strange man’s voice called from close by.
Then three men I’d never seen before ambled to the table. They were all tall, equally as muscular as the Krasnovs, and the stranger at the forefront had laser blue eyes and raven black hair.
Jo jumped up, almost overturning the table. “Lucky! Dex! Kelly! Get your asses over here!”
Everyone made way for the incoming contingent but, for some reason, Arkady moved his body slightly in front of me as if to block me from view.
The men were welcomed and greeted, and Jo kissed each of their cheeks before scolding, “It takes me getting knocked up to warrant your presence or something?”
A man with ginger red hair drank deeply from a bottle of beer before sending a look to Arkady. “We helped him out with those Sicilian cunts, didn’t we, Sis?”
Sis?
It all became perfectly, horrifyingly clear at the same time the one called Lucky leaned closer to me.
Arkady bristled immediately.
“You’re The Lion’s daughter.” Lucky slit his eyes at me.
“No one called my father that for many years.” I thrust out my chin. “And he’s dead now.”
Arkady began to rise, muscles bunching and a ferocious scowl on his face.
“Who is she?” The youngest appearing man of the trio squinted at me while his two brothers shot distrustful looks at Arkady.
“Lucia Leone,” Lucky said in an undertone. “Bastiano’s only sister.”
Blood drained from my face, and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
They knew my brother had almost raped their sister, Jo.
Oh god.
26
Arkady
BLYAD. FOR A FEW moments it seemed like all the clouds had finally cleared. Lucia had moved on from her hate against Kirill, which was very important to me, and she’d been accepted by all.
Now the fucking O’Sullivan brothers were about to destroy everything I’d fought for.
Lucky got a murderous look in his eyes when he recognized Lucia, and I stood quickly. Reaching for my gun, I was ready to blow his head off if he so much as took a second look at my woman.
I hoped we didn’t end a truce tonight with more bloodshed because of his Irish hotheadedness.
“That’s Lucia?” Dex’s lips pulled up in a sneer. “How’s about we take out Bastiano’s attempted rape of Jo on her?”
My voice came out as deadly as a sharp blade. “You will do no such fucking thing.”
“What the fuck?” Kelly shouldered forward too. “You mean to tell me you’re screwing the bitch—”
“Kelly!” Jo shouted, placing her hand on his chest.
A cold blast of fury rolled through me, and I snarled.
Barging forward, I was intent on only one thing. Destroying all three of these assholes, but Maksim and Kirill grabbed me by my arms. They forcibly pulled me back while Jo tried to reason with her bullheaded brothers.
Lucky didn’t seem to hear a word she said.
He shoved his face toward mine. “How can you goddamn sit here and make nice with the sister of the man who—”
“I didn’t know!” Lucia leaped from the booth.
Lucky, Kelly, and Dex froze at her outburst.
She planted her body in front of mine, going nose to nose with the three bastards I’d be happy to bury tonight. “Do you think I’d have approved? That any woman would?”
I wrenched my arms free from Kirill and Maksim, pulling Lucia to my side where I could protect her.
But I didn’t silence her.
Tears shone in her eyes. “I didn’t have any idea. So you can accuse me all you want, but do you really think I’d sit here and drink with the man who murdered my brother if I hadn’t made my own peace with the Bratva? Stronzos.”
Lucky’s head coiled back.
If he said one more fucking insulting word to Lucia, I’d crack his skull across the table until his brains became scrambled.
I noted a trio of our soldiers moving in closer and waved them off.
Kirill kept Jo at his side instead of letting her intervene further as if he knew—as I did—that Lucia needed to meet this on her own.
Unless it came to bloodshed.
And then I’d have to kill the Irish just like we’d wanted to for years before we joined forces.
Dex, the youngest of Jo’s brothers, blew out a slow breath. “Fuckin’ weird. Italians and Russians.”
“No stranger than the Irish with the Russians,” Lucia fired back with her hands on her hips.
“Heard that,” Sasha just had to add her input.
“I’m not Bas. I had no idea what was going on.” Lucia reiterated one last time. Then her voice softened. “If I can forgive Kirill then you have no right to bear me any ill will.”
Although we stood in the middle of a busy nightclub, silence seemed to ring around the table.
Then Lucky stood down with a long exhale followed by a lopsided smile. “Damn. She has some balls, Arkady.”
“You have no idea.” In fact, they didn’t know the half of it.
I decided they were never going to find out about Lucia’s original hairbrained scheme to kill Kirill on her own.
Suddenly, tension burst like a bubble. Jo berated her brothers a few more times, wagging a finger in their faces, then less menacing chatter erupted.
“It looks like we need more drinks.” Sasha jumped onto the seat of the booth to shout an order across The Sickle.
She didn’t just draw the attention of the bar staff either.
Maksim glowered. “I can practically see up your skirt and I’m not the only one.”
“Then you shouldn’t be looking,” she snapped, hopping back down and smoothing the short dress.
Lucky gave a wolfish whistle. “Lookin’ good, Sasha.”
I was certain he did it simply to goad Maksim more.
And, of course, Maksim growled from low in his throat.
Thankfully, more drinks arrived, distracting everyone, and we gathered around the table without bashing one another’s heads in.
The three other brothers piled in, catching up with Jo and Kirill, and Lucia sidled in next to Sasha with me on the other side of her.
The two of them talked quietly while drinking their champagne.
Then I heard Lucia mention to Sasha, “I see what you mean about Lucky. Other than the fact I think he just wanted to kill me.”
“I know, right?” Sasha murmured back. “Swoon.”
A heavy frown creased my brow, an even heavier scowl falling over Maksim’s face as we stared at the two women.
Hell no.
“We are dancing,” I announced, mostly to get Lucia away from Jo’s brothers.
“We are?” Her gaze flipped to me.
“Da.” I gathered her from the booth, placing a possessive hand on her lower back within the satiny dress.
When I swung her into my arms—music pulsing to a more sensual rhythm—she curled a hand around the back of my neck.
Away from the earshot of the others, she mentioned, “You know I was just playing along with Sasha, right?”
“Hmm.” I grunted, drawing her hips closer to my groin.
“You’re jealous.” She gasped in surprise.