4
This was a bad idea.
“This is a bad idea,” Nikita said, because he wanted it on record that Trina’s plan wasn’t likely to go the way she wanted it to.
She nodded. “Maybe so, but it’s the best I got, and I want everything out in the open. No secrets, no more rooftop chases in the dark. New York isn’t gonna lie down and keep quiet while we sort our shit out. Lanny and I need to go back to work and handle the real criminals in this city.”
She squared up her shoulders and sent him a brave smile that, for a moment, reminded him of her great-grandmother’s heartbreaking play at confidence.
Nikita reached, quick but soft, and cupped her cheek in one hand. Her eyes widened, startled. He pulled back. “Alright. Let’s do it then.”
She stared at him a moment, confused, searching his face, then nodded again and turned. “Sasha!” she called.
They stood on the hot, cracked pavement of a rundown self-storage complex, surrounded by roll-top doors and concrete walls stained by years of polluted rain. Trina’s car sat at a slant in one corner; Sasha opened its rear door and reached inside, dragging out an unresisting Alexei by the shirt collar. Doubtless Rasputin’s spawn could get away if he wanted, but was choosing to play along for the moment.
Nikita saw him there with Sasha, close enough to hurt him, and a growl bubbled to life in his chest.
“Okay, you can’t get all territorial,” Trina said. “I need somebody to be the other adult in this situation.”
He let his growl swell – a deep, dark jaguar pulse of sound – and then nodded and pulled it back. Took a deep breath, the stink of a rival in his nose.
Sasha sent him one of his pack looks as he marched Alexei up to them, meant to be concerned and comforting and loving.
“Lanny,” Nikita called.
He’d left his charges around the corner, and they walked around it now, Lanny and Jamie, both full of blood and, hopefully, in good control of themselves.
Nikita grabbed hold of Trina’s elbow, ready to tug her away, and beckoned to Sasha with a flick of his fingers. His wolf came, coming close on his opposite side, rubbing their shoulders together and whining softly.
“Shh,” Nikita murmured, leaning into the pressure of his shoulder.
Then Lanny caught sight of his sire.
His eyes flashed. A growl exploded out of him, half a roar, and when he opened his mouth, Nikita saw that his fangs had extended.
“Hello, Lanny,” Alexei said.
Lanny attacked, fingers curled into claws.
Nikita put an arm around his great-granddaughter and his wolf each, and towed them neatly to the side.
“Shit,” Trina said.
“It’s okay,” Nikita said, but didn’t know if he believed that. He hoped it would be, but in any event, he had hold of the only two people in this scenario he cared about. So.
Alexei seemed to have been taken by surprised, but recovered quickly. He was the older, stronger, more experienced of the two; he knew his own strength and speed and weaknesses.
But Lanny was a cop used to handling high, drunk, and volatile suspects. And he’d been a boxer before that; one on his way to televised matches, if Trina was correct.
Alexei braced his feet on the tarmac and caught Lanny’s headlong rush with both hands clamped around the other man’s wrists. Lanny roared again, muscled through, and laid Alexei out flat on his back. He hit hard, head landing on the pavement with acrack. And then Lanny straddled him and started throwing punches.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Sasha said, and made a little involuntary move toward the brawl.
Nikita held him fast, hand pressed tight to his sternum, and gave a quiet warning growl.No.
Sasha huffed in annoyance, but subsided.
The meaty sounds of fists meeting a face echoed off the storage lockers around them. Something crunched.
