after Dostoyev to get her attention.”
“Does Dmitry know the truth?” Bullet questioned.
“No.”
“Joseph is scrambling. It is as we planned,” Arrow mused. “Do you plan to tell Dmitry?”
Bone stared at Arrow but did not answer her question, choosing to ignore it as the implications of her answer might damn them all. “Yesipov is gone. Azrael is gone. Joseph has the scent of desperation riding him now. He sent two of his Sicariorum after me in the forests around Yesipov’s mansion.”
Arrow and Bullet straightened, the need to fight an unseen threat rising in them both. Their rage tainted the air with the bittersweet hint of endings. Sometimes it was the most beautiful smell of all.
“They live,” Bone answered their unspoken question.
“They hunt us and as much as I crave a decent opponent, as much as the death inside me wants to find an outlet, they are as we are. It would be similar to killing myself,” Arrow replied.
The male equivalent of First Team had always been there. While her sisters surmised they were a bit older than First Team, had perhaps been in Arequipa longer, Bone didn’t care. Anyone who presented a threat to her or her sisters was an enemy. It didn’t matter that they’d been raised much as she had. She didn’t know their agenda or their allegiance and though the one told her to run, they took Joseph’s command and as such they were not First Team’s in any way.
“I could have taken them but they are more useful alive than dead at this point. Make no mistake, sisters, they will kill us if given a chance,” Bone said.
Bullet shifted and turned as the one who’d stolen her heart walked up. Rand Beckett was a strong man to have taken Bullet on. And though her sister had broken, it was a fascinating thing to observe the softness in her gaze as she looked at him.
“Bone, this is Rand Beckett,” Bullet murmured.
Bone glanced at him, took his measure. He was a big man, though not quite as tall as Dmitry. Her gaze automatically sought the man who made her feel things she should not be feeling. He stared at her and for some reason the cast of his jaw, the readiness in his stance communicated he was there for her—would fight with her should any of these men attack.
She was being fanciful. It would get her killed.
She slid her gaze back to Rand Beckett. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”
Bullet stepped in front of Rand, her mouth flat, blue eyes shadowed with darkness.
“We have always had truth between us, sister. If he is yours he should know all of it, yes?” Bone questioned.
Arrow sighed. “I would introduce you to Adam Collins but I’m afraid that if you terrorize him, we will fight and you have just arrived. After so long without my sisters by my side, I would mourn your loss.”
Bone raised her chin in the air. “We have had this argument before, Arrow. I am stronger, quicker, and meaner than you. Threats will earn you that fight your soul is screaming for if you continue.”
Dmitry stepped to her, hovering at her back, waiting. For what, she wondered.
“Do not threaten him, Bone. Do not ever threaten him,” Bullet whispered harshly. “And it seems you have truths of your own to be concerned with.”
Bone’s spine snapped tight and she narrowed her gaze on Bullet.
“I will not hurt her. Not intentionally, I assure you,” Rand Beckett offered into the taut silence.
“You would fight your sisters?” Adam Collins asked, inserting himself into the conversation.
She looked at him, really looked at Adam Collins for the very first time. He, too, was handsome but where Rand Beckett whispered elegance, this man shouted warrior. Much like Dmitry, the well of his past was deep and littered with death. “It is all we know, Mr. Collins. Would you rather we held hands and sang Kumbaya?”
“You had the holding hands part a minute ago,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I wondered if breaking into song was coming next.”
“I believe a
“Does Dmitry know the truth?” Bullet questioned.
“No.”
“Joseph is scrambling. It is as we planned,” Arrow mused. “Do you plan to tell Dmitry?”
Bone stared at Arrow but did not answer her question, choosing to ignore it as the implications of her answer might damn them all. “Yesipov is gone. Azrael is gone. Joseph has the scent of desperation riding him now. He sent two of his Sicariorum after me in the forests around Yesipov’s mansion.”
Arrow and Bullet straightened, the need to fight an unseen threat rising in them both. Their rage tainted the air with the bittersweet hint of endings. Sometimes it was the most beautiful smell of all.
“They live,” Bone answered their unspoken question.
“They hunt us and as much as I crave a decent opponent, as much as the death inside me wants to find an outlet, they are as we are. It would be similar to killing myself,” Arrow replied.
The male equivalent of First Team had always been there. While her sisters surmised they were a bit older than First Team, had perhaps been in Arequipa longer, Bone didn’t care. Anyone who presented a threat to her or her sisters was an enemy. It didn’t matter that they’d been raised much as she had. She didn’t know their agenda or their allegiance and though the one told her to run, they took Joseph’s command and as such they were not First Team’s in any way.
“I could have taken them but they are more useful alive than dead at this point. Make no mistake, sisters, they will kill us if given a chance,” Bone said.
Bullet shifted and turned as the one who’d stolen her heart walked up. Rand Beckett was a strong man to have taken Bullet on. And though her sister had broken, it was a fascinating thing to observe the softness in her gaze as she looked at him.
“Bone, this is Rand Beckett,” Bullet murmured.
Bone glanced at him, took his measure. He was a big man, though not quite as tall as Dmitry. Her gaze automatically sought the man who made her feel things she should not be feeling. He stared at her and for some reason the cast of his jaw, the readiness in his stance communicated he was there for her—would fight with her should any of these men attack.
She was being fanciful. It would get her killed.
She slid her gaze back to Rand Beckett. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”
Bullet stepped in front of Rand, her mouth flat, blue eyes shadowed with darkness.
“We have always had truth between us, sister. If he is yours he should know all of it, yes?” Bone questioned.
Arrow sighed. “I would introduce you to Adam Collins but I’m afraid that if you terrorize him, we will fight and you have just arrived. After so long without my sisters by my side, I would mourn your loss.”
Bone raised her chin in the air. “We have had this argument before, Arrow. I am stronger, quicker, and meaner than you. Threats will earn you that fight your soul is screaming for if you continue.”
Dmitry stepped to her, hovering at her back, waiting. For what, she wondered.
“Do not threaten him, Bone. Do not ever threaten him,” Bullet whispered harshly. “And it seems you have truths of your own to be concerned with.”
Bone’s spine snapped tight and she narrowed her gaze on Bullet.
“I will not hurt her. Not intentionally, I assure you,” Rand Beckett offered into the taut silence.
“You would fight your sisters?” Adam Collins asked, inserting himself into the conversation.
She looked at him, really looked at Adam Collins for the very first time. He, too, was handsome but where Rand Beckett whispered elegance, this man shouted warrior. Much like Dmitry, the well of his past was deep and littered with death. “It is all we know, Mr. Collins. Would you rather we held hands and sang Kumbaya?”
“You had the holding hands part a minute ago,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I wondered if breaking into song was coming next.”
“I believe a
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