God of Wrath (Legacy of Gods #3) by Rina Kent

She blinks at the jarring change of subject. “He didn’t do anything, but he said something too similar to what Jonah said when we first got together.”

“Who’s Jonah?” I ask, even though I know exactly who the fucker is.

“My scum of an ex,” she snarls at the mere mention of him.

That’s my girl.

“Was it too similar?” I ask.

“It was actually word for word.” She shudders. “It was creepy as hell.”

“Do you think they’re acquaintances?”

“I don’t know. I hope not.” A tinge of fear slips into her gaze. She’s scared that the reason behind her nightmares will come back into her life.

And I’ll get rid of it before it even gets close.

“I’m going to change my clothes,” she announces, and when I remain there, she adds, “that’s your cue to leave.”

“I will after you fall asleep.”

I can tell she wants to object, but she releases a sigh and goes on about her business.

I’ll wait for her to fall asleep and then I’ll find out exactly why the blond fucker and his friend approached Cecily tonight.





27





JEREMY





“Go.”

Ilya rattles the door off of its hinges on our way inside when we were supposed to be discreet.

The look of absolute shock on the motherfuckers’ faces when we slip into their apartment is worth it, though.

The dark-haired one, Larry, flinches from his slumber, blinks slowly, and then looks down at his barely covered junk.

His friend with curly hair, Donovan, wakes up next from his sleeping position on the floor.

There’s no sign of Steven.

Ilya nods at me and flings open the other doors in search of him.

“What the fuck?” Donovan says in a craggy voice. It’s early morning, and while this operation was supposed to happen late last night, I kind of couldn’t leave when Cecily fell asleep in my arms.

And I may have spent hours watching her sleep like the creep she labeled me as.

It wasn’t until Ilya texted me, reminding me that these fuckers have classes this morning and asking if we should reschedule for tonight, that I finally left her side.

The fact that I actually struggled to peel her warmth off me and leave is bothersome and downright annoying.

Ilya hauls Steven up with a grip on his collar. The bastard is sporting a purple bruise from when he was acquainted with my fist last night, and he looks like a grotesque version of himself.

My guard shoves him between his friends and makes the three of them kneel in front of the sofa while they fruitlessly struggle and release some juvenile what the fucks.

“My father is powerful,” says Donovan, licking his lips and sweating profusely.

“What a coincidence.” I tilt my head to the side. “So is mine, but you don’t see me using his name or influence.”

Larry stares at Ilya, who’s nothing short of a wall behind him, then blurts, “Can we talk about this?”

“That’s what I had in mind.” I make a show of removing my jacket and laying it on a nearby chair before going back to stand in front of them. “You had a mission last night that entailed approaching Ava and Cecily, separating them, and cornering Cecily. I want to know all about that mission—the why, how, and who.”

Steven snarls, “Fuck you.”

I drive my fist into the good side of his face until blood explodes all over his features, splattering them with red, and then casually step back. “That wasn’t an answer. We’ll try again. Who put you up to it?”

“Listen, man.” Donovan trembles at the sight of his friend. “We really meant no harm.”

I punch him, harder than I did his friend, and he wails like a kicked puppy, grabbing his face and cursing.

My attention slides to Larry. “Will you tell me what I need to know, or should you meet your fate first?”

Steven tries to stand up, but Ilya shoves him back down and kicks Donovan, who comes to his aid.

Larry watches his useless friends and then studies my fist. “Fuck this.”

“No,” Steven shouts and wiggles under my guard’s clutches. “Don’t tell this motherfucker—”

His words end on an oomph when Ilya kicks him in the gut.

“It’s not worth it,” Larry says, then stares at me. “We were told by some guy at the club that if we did something for him, we’d get free drugs.”

My finger slides back and forth on my thigh. A guy at the club?

Jonah is in fucking London. What would he be doing at the club? Unless he dropped by for a visit?

But that’s not right either, considering I tagged him and I know precisely where that motherfucker is at all times.

Note to self: check with my guy on Jonah’s whereabouts last night.

I retrieve my phone, scroll to the pictures of the scum and show it to the three of them. “Is this him?”

“No,” Larry and Donovan say in unison.

I don’t even need to wait for Steven’s answer. No flash of recognition shone in their eyes when they saw the picture.

Unless they’re highly trained killers or psychopaths who are excellent at disguising their emotions, it’s impossible to hide that.

“What did he tell you to do?” I ask with a calm I don’t feel.