Page 232 of Hate to Love You
“I’m sorry, would you excuse me for a moment? I need to have a word with my brother.”
Yanking my arm, she pulls me forcibly away from Abigail and the Paces.
“Jesus,” I say, shaking her off.
“Sorry to interrupt your little circle jerk here, Roman,” she hisses. “But you knew we were on a strict timeline with this, and they are pulling up any minute. Do you have a plan?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. “We’re going to rip the Band Aid off and deal with it. No need in getting preemptively stressed out about it, dear sister.”
She laughs sarcastically.
“I’m stressed about everything!” She snaps under her breath. “Our family is threatened, Polina has gone rogue, you’re trying to buy billion-dollar skyscrapers, and now you want to do this—”
However, a loud buzzing interrupts Ana’s panicked tirade as the gigantic hangar doors begin to slide open once more.
“Shit…” I hear her mutter defeatedly. “I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing, Roman.”
And as two individuals appear in the doorway, I can’t help the way my chest tightens around me.
I hope I do too.
Wesley, Jaxon Pace’s weapon’s expert, steps into the giant hangar bay…followed by Pasha, who has Caesar trotting along beside him.
“...I’d say it boils down to this,” Wesley says animatedly. “If you’re going for sheer distance, I would always trust the Barrett, it will never let you down. That or the AXSR for the sheer versatility.”
“Yeah, but the sheer fact that it’s British made, is the reason I wouldn’t ever go with the AXSR,” Pasha snorts, waving him off. “I’d have to go with my roots and trust the Dragunov above the AXSR.”
“You can’t be serious!” Wesley laughs loudly. “The Dragunov is practically a dinosaur! I mean…no offense or anything.”
“Dinosaur or not, it’s still wracking up body counts,” Pasha counters.
“Your mom wracks up a bod—oh shiiit,” Wesley gasps, as he and Pasha distractedly come skidding to a halt right in front of us.
“Jesus Christ,” Pasha whispers loudly, clearly startled as he presses his hand to his chest.
“Not quite,” I say quietly, watching as all the blood drains from both of their faces. “I trust you two gentlemen have had a successful morning of tracking down my missing paintings?”
“Um,” Wesley says, gulping loudly and awkwardly running his hand through his hair. “Not yet, but we’re still working on it, Mr. Antonov, Sir.”
“Not anymore you’re not,” Jaxon Pace suddenly barks from behind Wesley, making him jump again.
“Fuck!” He yelps.
“Oh, I’d definitely say that’s the right word for you right now, commander,” Jaxon growls, his face instantly a clear mixture of frustration and rage. “Fucked is exactly what you are.”
“Sir, I…I…” Wesley stammers, but Jaxon simply raises his hand in the air, silencing him.
“Believe me, I’ve heard more than enough of it already,” he says darkly, glaring at Wesley. “And if Mrs. Pace wasn’t so fond of you, no one would be hearing another word from you. Ever.”
Wesley immediately lowers his eyes to the floor and nods as Jaxon steps up close to him and whispers in his ear lethally.
“Get your damaged ass on the plane. And I suggest you be as silent as the grave that you are so narrowly avoiding, and not remind me that you exist for the next two hours.”
“Yes, Sir,” he whispers with his eyes still lowered.
“Now,” Jaxon hisses venomously.
Without another word, Wesley walks off toward the plane where several other men stand waiting.