Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 127461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Evangeline’s baked goods helped, no question about it. Her scones, cookies and pies were sought after, and with platefuls of them set out like a banquet for the men to feast on along with pots of coffee, they probably thought they’d hit the jackpot. There was no reason for their leopards to feel uneasy either. No one had threatened them in any way. Gorya had created a festive atmosphere.
His cousins had thrown a party in his honor, and he’d merely extended that festivity to the security of each of those who came to celebrate. He greeted those he knew by name, asking how they were, spending a little time with them so it would seem natural when he got to the four men who were strangers to him. Two of the men under suspicion were on Timur’s crew and two on Sevastyan’s crew.
Gorya had thought the Amurov family would have been off-limits to anyone in aggressive takeover bids. Krylov had shown no signs of respecting them. He wasn’t afraid of taking them on. That meant he believed his allies in Houston and Panama were more than a match for them. That would have to come up in a discussion with his cousins and their allies. They would need as much information as possible.
The young man wolfing down the cinnamon-and-apple coffee cake wasn’t much older than Jeremiah Wheating. He had dark hair with lighter streaks of blond running through it, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun. He didn’t have the scars on his throat that Jeremiah had, but his eyes were harder, the lines cut deeper into his face. His eyes were green with an amber tint. As he approached, Gorya saw the man’s leopard assessing him.
Gorya kept his energy low and friendly as he held out his hand. “I’m Gorya Amurov. I don’t believe we’ve met yet, although Timur mentioned you were on his crew.”
“Ian Razor.” He had a firm handshake.
Gorya flashed another quick smile. “I see you appreciate Evangeline’s coffee cake. I think that’s how she ensnares all of us.”
“You could be right. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything that tastes quite so good. If I keep eating it, I’ll have to double my training.”
Gorya and the others laughed with him. Jeremiah reached out and took a handful of cookies. “You’re lucky you weren’t there when Ashe tried baking. She makes a mean latte though.”
“Watch your mouth, kid,” Timur said, but there was no bite in his voice.
“Just saying, boss,” Jeremiah didn’t sound in the least remorseful.
Gorya flashed a grin at the man standing next to Ian and held out his hand. “Gorya Amurov.”
“Liam Kensie. Was just brought in with Ian a couple of weeks ago. Nice setup, and the food’s especially good.”
“You trained with Donovan?”
“We both did. Ian and I arrived around the same time in Borneo, and Drake took us on. When we wanted more training, he had us sent to Bannaconni’s ranch and then here. He’s moving us around to get more experience. We haven’t had a chance to work with Timur yet, but my understanding is your cousin is one of the best security men in the business.”
Gorya nodded. “And exacting. He doesn’t take crap from anyone, nor will he let you shirk your duty. He isn’t tolerant of mistakes. Ask Jeremiah.”
“Mistakes cost lives,” Jeremiah quoted, and stuffed another cookie into his mouth.
Gorya turned to the other two newcomers, greeting each with a handshake. These were the two on Sevastyan’s crew.
“I’m Han Bastill,” a sandy-haired man of about twenty-five introduced himself.
“And I’m Idris Malone.” The second man was a bit older, perhaps twenty-eight, and heavier built, with very dark hair and eyes. “We also trained in Borneo and came to the United States with Drake. We recently signed on for more training under Sevastyan.”
“It’s interesting that all four of you trained with Drake,” Gorya said. “Not surprising though. His expertise with shifters is renowned.” He reached out to snag one of Evangeline’s famous cinnamon cookies. “Where are each of you originally from?”
“We’re all from Panama,” Idris answered. “Grew up together, actually. When we were kids, we were orphaned. A family looked out for us, keeping us fed and clothed, and made sure we had schooling. We never went hungry. We were lucky. We weren’t the only ones they took in.”
“Jeremiah’s from Panama as well.” Gorya turned toward Jeremiah as if he could provide some explanation for them all coming from the same place.
“Panama is a big place, Gorya. I’ve never met them before,” Jeremiah said. “Remember, I do have a mom and sisters. My mom is trying to marry me off to anyone who will have me just to get grandbabies.”
The room roared with laughter.
“I guess there are advantages to being raised in an orphanage,” Ian said, nudging Liam. “It was more a boarding school than an orphanage though. We were required to learn, but we were treated well.”