Nikolai: Mine to Protect (Russian Mob Chronicles #4)
Nikolai: Mine to Protect – Chapter 9

Justine’s hopeful eyes shift to mine when the creak of a gate sounds through the eerie quietness surrounding us. She’s been on edge since our conversation early this morning, but with Maddox’s release being years in the making, she’s not letting anything dampen her joy.

Harbortown Medium Security Prison has more men on guard outside of its walls than it has inside. My conversation with Asher verified it isn’t his crew aiming for a foothold in Hopeton, but that doesn’t mean I’ll lower my guard. If it isn’t Asher, who is it? There isn’t another operative strong enough to bid on my title, much less have the gall to go against me. The Popov entity is the largest and strongest it’s ever been. Only a fool with a death wish would dare test its strength.

“Ahren. . .” I growl when the flash of a grin has Justine pushing off her feet and racing away from me.

When Roman attempts to follow her, I hold him back. Landon is already on her tail, but if he weren’t, the three snipers I have hidden in the dense forest surrounding us will take care of any unwanted visitors.

A medium-built man with dirty blond hair and a sleeve full of tats dumps a duffle bag on the ground a mere second before Justine launches herself into his arms. The grin on Maddox’s face when he twirls his baby sister in the air reveals he never thought this day would come, but it’s a weary, unsure smile that exposes he’s cautious. He knows as well as I do that the agreement he made with the Petrettis was voided the instant he stepped foot outside prison walls.

Maddox’s grin jumps onto the faces of a handful of my men. They’re not smiling at Justine’s overfriendly greeting; witnessing the entire Walsh clan’s teary response is causing their peculiar reaction.

My men have witnessed many things: pleas from teary-eyed fathers begging for the lives of their sons to be spared, wives begging to save their husbands, even whores offering favors in exchange for their favorite clients’ clemency. But this is the first time they’ve witnessed a joyous reunion. No blood has been shed, no lives claimed, only enough tears to flood a river.

By the time Justine makes it back to my side, her cheeks are lined with vibrant red streaks, and her nose is running. “Maddox, this is—”

“Nikolai.” I step back when Maddox throws his arms around my torso to pull me into his chest. I’m five seconds from showing him there is only one Walsh family member I’m willing to accept affection from, but his next words steal mine: “Dimitri sends caution. The flock is about to fly.”

His warning thickens my tongue with hate, but before I can act on it, a police siren shrills through my ears. An unmarked cruiser is gliding down the road my heavily armed men line, the frantic swallows of the two male occupants inside viewable from a distance.

“Stand down.” Justine’s demanding tone is more for me than my crew. “They’re practically family.”

“Practically family isn’t family, Ahren.” My voice is hostile, my worry fraying my mood. “So, which are they? Friend or foe?”

Justine’s eyes stray to mine. The anxiety in them quickly dries her tears. “They’re my family, Nikolai, which means they are now also yours.”

She slips her hand into mine, stopping its frantic clench and unclench routine. With my hands losing their ability to expel my anger, the focus shifts to my jaw. Its ticks are barely audible over the gravel crunching under my boots as I follow Justine and Maddox to the stalled police cruiser, but I still feel every grind.

With a lopsided grin, Maddox greets the two plain-clothed men with a handshake before moving away from the object of their focus. I want to pretend they’re staring my way because my reputation is known across the globe, but unfortunately, that isn’t the case. Their eyes aren’t locked on me. They are fixated on my queen, her beauty too pronounced to manifest a guarded response.

“Hi, Ryan,” Justine greets a brown-haired man.

In an attempt to return her welcome with equal excitement, Ryan’s lips arrow toward Justine’s cheek.

They land midair when I yank her out of his path with barely a second to spare.

His chance of being killed for his near-miss is halved when recognition dawns on why the blond man smirking behind him seems familiar. He’s the man from the dossier I had Roman compile first thing this morning. He’s Justine old flame, Brax unlikely to make it to this afternoon alive Anderson.

Dust kicks up around my feet when Justine briskly pivots around to face me. Since she washed her hair this morning, it’s extra voluminous, meaning I’m no longer able to see Ryan and Brax through her thick, luscious curls. She stares me straight in the eyes, her pulse working extra hard to convince me there is only one man on her radar.

“I love you.” She says her bold statement loud enough anyone within a five-mile radius heard it, but her next words are solely for me: “I’ve never spoken those words to another man before. And I never will again unless he is you. Please remember that.”

Bestowing upon me an immense amount of trust I don’t deserve, Justine returns her attention to her guests. This time, it’s her dragging me across the asphalt. My back molars crunch when she greets Brax with a peck on the cheek before offering an introduction. Ryan’s hand will throb for a week from my firm grip. Brax’s. . . let me just say, I hope his field of expertise doesn’t rely on his hands.

“What are you guys doing here? I thought the authorities wanted to keep Maddox’s release on the downlow?”

My smirk at the authoritativeness in Landon’s tone sags during the last half of his statement. If my desire to kill the two men standing across from me wasn’t already rampant, knowing they are a part of law enforcement triples the odds.

“They do. I’m not here officially.” Ryan’s reply exposes he’s the only one wearing an invisible badge. “Although this case was handed to the feds years ago, I’ve kept an eye on it. I’ve been waiting for this day as long as you guys. Savannah wanted to be here, but Rylee has chickenpox, so she didn’t want to risk. . . you know.”

My brow cocks when his eyes sneakily drift to Justine’s non-existent baby bump.

How the fuck does he know she’s pregnant?

When reality smacks into me for the second time in under a minute, my slit gaze snaps to Landon. He forcefully swallows, conscious I’m on to him. He didn’t go and rat me out to Justine; he went and tattled to a cop.

Something is very wrong with this picture.

Hating the suspicious glance of her parents, Justine endeavors to switch the focus away from her. “Did you guys want to join us? We’re having celebratory drinks at my parents’ house.” She cozies up to Maddox’s side so they know who the celebration centers around. “It’s a few miles from here, but you’re more than welcome—”

My firm squeeze of Justine’s hand cuts her off. I’m not telling her I don’t appreciate her extending the olive branch—even though I do. It’s because she’s unaware our celebration has been relocated.

Only Roman and I are aware of that fact.

“If you wish to join us, Gavril can travel with you.”

A smug grin etches on my face when Ryan and Brax’s cheeks whiten from Gavril stepping forward. He’s tall, large, and Russian: the most lethal combination on the market.

Ryan makes a half-assed excuse about spending time with his family before a week of night shifts. Brax’s reply sounds similar, but I miss exactly what he says since I’m so fixated on his sneaky steps toward Justine. She breaks out a smile I’ve only seen a handful of times the past twelve months when he whispers something in her ear.

When he shifts his attention to me, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. I can see the suspicion in his eyes, smell the protectiveness on his skin. He’s sizing me up, making sure I have the goods to deliver the promises I’ve made Justine.

I don’t know what he sees in my eyes, but it extinguishes the worry in his within seconds and has his hand thrusting my way for the second time in under three minutes. I won’t lie; it’s the fight of my life not to squeeze his hand as firmly as I did earlier, but I manage—barely!

“If you ever want to finish that piece, I know a guy who could help you out.” Brax’s eyes drop to the snake skin dangling off an unmarked family crest on the lower half of my right arm, unaware the crest is empty for a reason.

I didn’t discover my true birthright until I was well into my teens, but even before then, I never felt like a Popov. That’s why the family crest in my tattoo is void of an identity. I want it to represent who I am, not the lie I was born into. That emblem will now include Justine and our baby. . . and perhaps my trusty knife.

“Maybe one day.”

Justine’s smile makes it seem as if I said more than I did. She knows I’m not a fan of small talk, particularly when it’s with a man not related to her by blood, but her smile exposes my efforts will be well rewarded. That alone lightens the weight of my knife in my pocket.

The dust has barely settled from Brax and Ryan’s departure when Justine slings her arms around my neck to seal her lips over mine. She kisses me greedily, as if she has been deprived of my taste for centuries instead of minutes.

“I knew there was a good man hiding inside of you,” she talks over my lips before playfully nipping at their slight curve.

Dropping my hands to her ass, I squeeze her rounded globes softly, almost teasingly. “You won’t be saying that when I take you on the hood of my car in front of your parents.”

Justine’s mouth gapes. “You wouldn’t dare be so crude. My father would have a coronary.”

With a wink revealing she’s secretly hoping I’ll make good on my threat, she skips toward the fleet of SUVs waiting for us. My acceptance of her past makes her even more eager to get the party started. We have matters much more exciting than Maddox’s release to celebrate.

Although we had planned not to share news of Justine’s pregnancy until after the scan Dok scheduled, Landon isn’t known for his secret-keeping. Aware it will only be a matter of time before her family is updated, Justine would rather she tell them instead of Landon, so we’ve decided to announce our news after dinner.

It’s going to be a night of surprises in the Walsh household.