Kirby Carter

Bratva!?... THE Bratva.. As in.. The Russian Mafia!?..

The idea that you might actually work for the mob is terrifying, even if it is just a cover story..

Since you moved to the city, every time you turn on the news you see evidence of the gang war that wages between the Russian Brotherhood and the Mexican Cartel.. They fight over everything from territory to drugs and arms and from some recent whispers you've heard, even slavery.. The very idea of such an association is nauseating..

The exact type of criminal organisation you have spent your life trying to escape..

The floor drops out from beneath you and you have to lean against Hunter momentarily for support.. The viking must be lying.. Right?.. Bluffing.. He's just making up a cover story..

Thats why he told you to play along.. Right?!..

Dabry pales slightly, eyeing the tattoos that cover The Vikings arms, the backs of his hands, and those ones that creep up his neck.. Darby might have powerful connections back in Ireland.. But here, he is a small fish in a much larger pond..

An ocean really..

He is smart enough to see this for himself.. "S-she never mentioned that.."

Hunter laughs, but the sound is hollow and cold.. Not at all as you know him..

No, this man is somebody else.. He is dark.. Dangerous..

And Darby can sense it..

"I dont give a fuck what she mentioned, man.. I'm here to talk business.."

You look between the two men, breath frozen in your chest..

"I have no business with the Bratva.." Declans eyes darken angrily as he aims them at you.. As if you've committed some great betrayal..

And you have.. Just not in the way he thinks..

The way his scrutinous gaze bores into is agony, you have to avert your eyes because of the nervous knots in your stomach... Trying to play it off as disinterest, you shrug slightly and attempt to plaster a smug grin on your face..

Like you actually have the backing of the Bratva..

Fake it till you make it, as they say..

"So, you weren't blackmailing Kirby here?.. You know, the brotherhood takes it very seriously when someone fucks with our employees.. Lucky for you, the old boys don't know about this.. Not yet anyway.." Hunter leans casually against the SUV, the enormous muscles of his biceps strain against the tight sleeves of his fitted black jacket ..

Darbys teeth clench and he begins to grind them back and forth with frustration.. "What the fuck do you want, then?.."

He waves the schematics in Darby's face before handing them back to you.. You quickly tuck them back into your bag.. "Well, since the Bratva owns your bomb-maker, and it was awful shitty of you to cut us out of the deal here.. You're going to buy through me.. Everything you need for this thing.. And you'll pay top dollar for it too.."

Hunter's arm winds around your waist as he begins to pull you away, back towards the car.. "Consider the Bratva, your new supplier.."

Having an internal panic attack at the square off the viking just initiated, you rush around to the passenger side of the car, sliding into the seat as quickly as she can.. Ready to get the hell out of there.. But you can still hear the vikings muffled voice through the glass of the car window as he makes one last threat to Declan.. "Oh, yeah I almost forgot.. If anything happens to Lucky O'Cléirigh.. Well.. You know.. I'll kill ya.."

There is something terrifyingly convincing about the way he drops that final statement.. The Viking makes no effort to make himself sound menacing.. Instead he throws the words out there easily, casually.. Lightheartedly even..

'I'll kill ya'.. Those three words on repeat in your mind..

Like the idea only amuses him.. Like he would enjoy it.. Like he's done it before..

He pulls out his phone as he slips into the car, turning over the ignition as he lifts the receiver to his ear.. You hear the distant muffled voice of a man's voice on the other end of the line..

When The Viking speaks, you are stunned when it isn't in his usual accent.. Or even his natural tongue..

No, this language is fluid, yet harsh.. Beautiful.. Yet scary.. If you had to guess.. You'd say Slavic.. But something tells you that you know exactly what language he is speaking..

"YA v polozhenii, brat .. U tebya yest' glaza? .. Da, spasibo comrade.."
He hangs up the call and glances over to you.. Your mouth hanging open, you don't know what to say.. What to think.. "You alright, duchess?"

You quickly nod.. Snapping your mouth shut.. It's just like the viking said 'if you don't know what to say, say nothing'..

Turning away you cast your eyes out the window at the buildings that rush by as you wind your way through uptown traffic heading south..

....

You say nothing, the entire ride back to the apartment all you can think is..

What the hell just happened?..

And how much of that was true?..

In one move, Hunter had managed to turn the tables, putting Darby on the back foot for a change..

You should feel relieved..

Instead.. You feel confused..scared..and just a little angry..

"That went well.. You did great, Duchess.."

You turn to him.. "Are you kidding me?.. What the hell was all that?!.. What happens when he finds out you aren't Bratva, you're freakin CIA.".

He winces.. "Kriby, I told you.. I'm not CIA anymore.."

You wait for him to finish that sentence.. You desperately want to hear him say the words.. 'and I'm not Bratva either'...

But he doesn't..

He just watches, as the slow realisation dawns on you..

Oh god.. This is bad.. Reaching for the handle you jump out of the car, racing up the path to your front door.. Only to find an unwelcome guest, sitting on the stoop.. Waiting..

"Duchess, wait--" Hunter, who had been following behind you, falls quiet when he sees her.. "What are you doing here El?"

Ellerie stands nervously smoothing the lines of her insane lemon yellow skirt that she wears with a short cobalt blue crop, the whole look set off by her fiery red hair.. The woman is like a god-damned neon sign.. You suppose it's kind of cute.. Though right now, looking at her only pisses you off..

"I was hoping to speak with Kirby.." Her pleading eyes fall on you..

"Jesus.. You know what its been a long day and--" You try to dismiss her..

"Please, KC.. I just want to explain myself.."

Its the puppy dog look and the desperate tone that get you..

Rolling your eyes with a sigh, you push past her, fishing the keys from your purse and leading them both inside.. "Fine..."

Out of habit you make your way to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer and handing it to the viking.. He takes the drink without a word.. Clearing out of the way, taking a seat on the sofa he flicks on the sports channel and pulls out his phone, pretending not to listen..

You know he is.. And you really dont care..

Filling a glass of water from the tap, you lean against the counter, fixing your eyes on Ellerie.. "Well?.. Say whatever it is you came here to say.."

You know you sound like a complete bitch.. And maybe you are.. But you had really thought Ellerie had been a friend..

The way she had used you.. Well, that hurt.. You might have made your mistakes in life... But you've never done anything like that before.. And certainly not intentionally, like she had..

"You have every right to be upset with me.."

You arch an eyebrow, your response dripping with sarcasm.. "Oh I do? Thank you so much for your astute observation, Ellerie.."

From his seat in the living room, you hear Hunter cover a chortle with a cough..

"Okay.. Fair.. Im sorry, Kirby.. I lied to you.. When I came to you, I didn't have anything to do with your investigation.. But, after I found out, I didn't come to you like I should have.. After all you did to help me.. I should have been more direct with you about the situation.. I made an error in judgement.. I fucked up.."

As far as apologies go, she is doing a pretty good job of just owning her mistake.. And you can certainly appreciate that.. Really, you are too exhausted from the day to get into a catfight with a woman you're not even sure you care about anymore..

With a sigh you turn around and take another ale from the fridge, siding the frosty bottle across to her.. She smiles.. "I don't really drink beer.. Do you hav--"

"Jesus Christ, take the win, Ellerie.. Just drink the fucking beer.." The viking growls in a warning tone..

"Oh, um, righto!.." You can't help but smirk.. The carbonated drink hisses as she twists the bottle cap, taking the tiniest sip she does her best not to scrunch up her nose.. "So, Axe.. You've been very difficult to contact.."

She sounds like a disapproving mother scolding her naughty kid for missing curfew.. It makes you wonder why kind of dynamic these two have going on..

Are they fucking?

Oh god.. You hate yourself for even thinking the question..

Let alone the jealousy that it sparks..

"I've sent you the reports, Devereux.. You have all the information you need there.. Do you not?" He challenges her, but doesn't really seem all that bothered by her probing..

"Riiiight.. Except, I don't.. Paxton, something is going on here.." She looks back to you and you hold up your hands as if to say 'leave me out of it'..

You have no idea what she does and doesn't know.. Or why Hunter would keep her in the dark..

Frankly the fact that he hasn't told her everything in your eyes is one of his more redeeming qualities..

"Greyson won't tell me shit.. Knox has been dodging me even harder than you.. You're acting like a bunch of fucking children!"

The viking chuckles softly, before he stands.. He gestures in a placating, palms up fashion.. "Ellerie.. You're my boss.. Not my babysitter.. Did Iris tell you to micromanage this case?.. MY case.. You want my reports to include more detail?.. Fine.. I can do that.. But I am still the commander of Delta Force.. And if I see reason to keep certain details classified, you need to trust that I know what I'm doing.. Otherwise, I might as well go back to the CIA.. At least they were paying out six figure compensations to be handled like this.."

She gives him a hard stare before she sighs, exasperated.. "This has nothing to do with trust, and everything to do with you making it impossible for me to do my job.. Axe.. Why won't you let me help you?.."

He shrugs a shoulder.. "When I need help, you'll be the first person I ask.. How's that?"

She huffs, shoving her barely drunk beer into his hands and seeing herself to the door.. Stopping she turns to you, making one last attempt.. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what is going on.."

"With him?" You hitch a thumb in Hunters direction.. He watches you with a tight, almost concerned expression.. Like you might tell her everything..
Not likely.. You might be ready to treat the woman civilly, but you aren't anywhere close to trusting her with your secrets.. "My guess is as good as yours at this point, Ellerie.."

She nods slowly.. "Yeah.. That's what I figured.."
And with that, she is gone..

You turn to Hunter.. "You have some serious explaining to do, Ragnar.."

He grins, sheepishly, sinking back into the sofa as you come to stand before him, arms folded across your chest...

While the look he gives you might be hot enough to melt the ice caps, you are not backing down this time.. Hunter Paxton is going to answer your questions tonight..

One way or another..