Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
"They will weep with jealousy when they see you." And weep with pain if they so much as give her a dirty look.
The entire way to the gala, Aria chats excitedly about what she discovered today. It turns out being friends with my brother actually comes in handy. "I had no idea there was a potential entry point for exportation with that new software the government installed,” she says, her eyes gleaming, as if someone just told her the best news she's ever heard in her life. "Do you have any idea what this means?"
Yes, of course I do. It means that she's going to be able to hack into more databases than we ever have, securing information for my family that we need. "Do you know what would be the funniest thing in the world? A CTF competition, with me and Aleks and whoever else you have.”
"Aria, what the hell is a CTF competition?"
"Capture the flag. Honestly, Mikhail, do you know nothing about hacking?"
"Do you know nothing of the Russian language? My knowledge about hacking is about the same."
She gives me a smug little smile. "Zdravstvuyte! Kak dela? I've been practicing."
Sassy little girl.
When we arrive, Nikko’s waiting outside with a joint pressed to his lips. He throws it on the ground and grinds it out with his heel when he sees me coming. While I don't forbid them smoking pot, I don't encourage it. Not when there’s so much at stake. Tonight? I might ask him if he has another.
“Tell me again who that is," she says. "I remember everybody's names, and I do remember their jobs, but I need a refresher."
Is my little hacker wife admitting that there's a flaw to her perfect recall memory? She was under stress the last time she met everybody, when we were all together anyway. It was weeks ago at our wedding.
Nikko is our family assassin, but she doesn't need to know that.
“Nikko,” I say affectionately. "When we were in high school, they joked that he looked like Superman."
“It’s those rugged, boy-next-door good looks. I bet that comes in handy.”
Sharp jawline, piercing eyes, tousled hair. What those girls who swooned over Nikko didn't know was how lethal he is when it comes to a hired hit.
"You know Aleks. And Lev." Lev often helps us because he's our team strategist. My youngest brother is also a trained fighter. With his athletic build, he’s the one we send in to maneuver through tricky situations and defend himself if needed. He's confident, with a magnetic presence that women everywhere swoon over. He never dates, though. He's too occupied with other things.
"Do you member Kolya?”
"Of course I do. Your father's buddy, right? The older guy?"
He would cringe to hear her call him the "older guy." He's only fifty years old, but he's the only one with silver in his hair and beard, and he’s more fit than men half his age. More like an older brother than father figure to any of us, our group mastermind oversees all operations.
"Who’s the one that's always wearing leather, with those green eyes?”
“Ollie." We sometimes call him “The Lone Wolf” because of the wolf tattoo on his shoulder and his propensity for doing things alone. He likes to be alone.
"OK, so far we have Ollie, the lone one in leather, Nikko the scary weapon guy. And then there's the younger one, Lev, who looks like he power lifts on lunch breaks. He's the one that picked us up on our wedding night. Kolya, your dad's war buddy. Aleksandr, Polina, and your mother. What should I call her?”
“Ekaterina.”
"Wow, that's a beautiful name. But you have one more brother, don't you?"
"Viktor. You've only met him once, at the wedding. The one with the scar on his cheek? Shaved head?”
“Ah, yes. I didn't think anybody was scarier than you, Mikhail, but he has you beat."
“Is that right? Is this a test? Do you need a demonstration?”
I love that shy little look she gives me. “It's just that scar on his cheek. Oh, and the fact that he's always wearing that black leather jacket. He's easily fifty pounds heavier than you, and he doesn't mind carrying weapons everywhere he goes. People scatter like scared little mice in his wake. What's his nickname?"
"The Iron Fist.”
"You guys seriously do not fu – mess around, do you?"
I shake my head when we pull up to my childhood home, where my mother’s hosting the gala.
This is the first gala we've ever hosted here in the absence of my father. No wonder my mother is so worried.
"You didn't tell me she lived in Manhattan! This place is beautiful." Her eyes shine as she takes it all in. It’s a wintry feast for the eyes with ice sculptures showcased with spotlights and a well-kept winter garden. I happen to know for a fact that my mother and Polina have been hard at work making sure every single detail was perfect before tonight's event.