“Was is that brutal?” I ask.

“Brutal?” Yan scoffs. “Try deadly. Try, we’re the fucking chosen ones for getting out of that training alive. Remember dragging kilos of tires in fucking freezing Siberia, Borya?”

Boris’s stoic face falters for a second as he nods, and even Kolya’s lips twist, probably recalling the same circumstances.

“Seems the cold hasn’t made a man out of you, Yan,” Adrian says with nonchalance, then takes a sip of beer.

“How can you say that, Boss? I was second in my unit.”

Adrian raises a brow. “Not first.”

“Not everyone is a perfectionist freak like you and Kolya.”

I stare at Adrian. Yan told me he was in Special Forces before, but he never mentioned rank. “You were first?”

“Unlike Yan.”

“He’s all bark and no bite,” Kolya agrees with his boss, opening a bottle of beer.

“Oh, fuck you, Kolya.” Yan’s temper rises. “Rank isn’t important, skill is. What do you say, Boris?”

“I was first in my unit, too.” Boris throws a nut into his mouth. “Pay respect.”

“To being first.” Kolya shows a rare smirk and raises his bottle of beer.

My husband and Boris mimic him, drinking while Yan tightens his hold on his bottle, glaring at them before he sighs heavily.

“It seems you’re the only loser here, Yan.” Kolya smiles.

The younger guard flips him off under the table and I can’t help but smile. These men are all ruthless, coming from dangerous backgrounds that allowed them to not only survive Special Forces, but to also excel at it, and although they might be competitive about it, they feel like a family.

A fucked-up one, no doubt, but at the same time, it’s very loyal and protective.

A family I want to belong to.

“I’m going to make you eat your words by the end of tonight, Kolya.” Yan bunches up his sleeves. “There are five of us. How are we going to do this?”

“I’m not playing,” Adrian announces.

“Come on.” I nudge him. “Don’t be a fun-ruiner.”

“If I play, I’ll win every round and ruin your actual fun.”

“He’s right.” Yan rolls his eyes. “Don’t be fooled by the silent façade. Boss is competitive to a fault and makes sure to win at everything.”

“Except shipping you back to the Spetsnaz.” Adrian sips his beer. “Though that can be arranged rather swiftly now that we’re here.”

Yan winces. “You didn’t forget about that?”

“Never. Now, play. I will be the judge.”

Yan clears his throat. “Lia and me against Kolya and Boris.”

“No.” Adrian objects.

“Why not?” I ask.

“It’d be boring. You and Kolya against Boris and Yan would be more entertaining.”

Or more like, he’s doing everything in his power to keep me from pairing up with Yan. But whatever, Adrian will always be Adrian.

“Hold on.” Yan stands up. “Let me get some real drinks.”

I frown, not understanding the meaning behind his words as he disappears in the direction of the kitchen. A minute later, he reappears with a bottle of vodka and glasses.

Boris and Kolya grunt in approval. Right. Of course, beer isn’t a real drink for them.

The three of them definitely fit the stereotype of how much Russians love their vodka. Adrian usually prefers cognac, but he does push the beer out of the way when vodka is in sight.

At first, I’m too much of a wimp to try straight vodka. They don’t even mix it in a cocktail or drink it diluted. However, after Boris delivers a knockout in the first round, I chug down an entire glass to cool off my wounded pride. It burns my throat and I cough a few times, hitting my chest to make it go away.

“Take it easy,” Adrian whispers in my ear, his fingers drawing circles on my shoulder.

“I’m fine.” I point at Boris. “You’re going down. You, too, Yan.”

My friend lifts his chin. “I’m sorry to say this, but you’ll be collateral damage, because Kolya’s destruction is my mission tonight.”

“It’s the other way around.” Kolya’s usual calm falters as he assembles his tiles in front of him.

Once again, Boris and Yan take the lead. I swear, Boris is like an encyclopedia that keeps coming up with the right words.

I take another sip of my vodka, mouthing at Kolya to give me a six-letter word that starts with R, but he comes up empty.

“Royal,” I exclaim.

Boris stares at me with an unusual smugness. “That’s five letters.”

“Royalty.”

“That’s seven.” Yan chugs down his drink. “Give up, already, and pass.”

I don’t have the correct letters to spell any form of royal, anyway. With my two blank tiles and a load of vowels, I’m just punching in the dark for ideas.

Adrian drapes my scarf up over my shoulders and whispers in my ear, discreetly enough that no one notices him, “Regius.”

I don’t want to cheat, I really don’t, but with my blanks, I can make it work, and the way Boris is smirking and Yan keeps taunting us is getting on my nerves. So I stoop low and align the tiles in place after the R.

“That’s cheating, Mrs. Volkov,” Boris fixes me with a stare.

“Are you accusing me of being a cheater?” There’s a slight slur at the end of my words.

“Boss told you that word.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“He didn’t,” Kolya says at the same time.

“Wait a minute!” Yan slams his glass on the table. “You’re supposed to be impartial, Boss.”

“I have been,” Adrian says ever so casually with a perfect poker face that betrays nothing.

“You obviously haven’t.” Yan motions between the two of us.

My husband remains as collected as always. “You have proof?”

“Well…no.”

“Do you, Boris?” When the other guard shakes his head, Adrian continues, “Then your accusations are null and void. Proceed.”

They both grumble but pick up their pieces as Kolya smirks. I grin up at Adrian, murmuring, “I didn’t know you were a cheater.”

“I’m not, usually,” he whispers back against my cheek.

“You just did.”

“Only for you, Lenochka.”

We win that round, but Boris and Yan end up crushing us in the next one so hard, my pride is wounded.

As a result, I end up drinking more vodka than should be allowed and telling Yan he and I aren’t friends anymore while acting like a sore loser toward Boris.

At some point, Adrian pulls the glass of vodka from my hand. “That’s enough drinking for one night.”

“Nooo, I’m okaaay. Oops. Fiiiine. I mean, I’m totally fine. I know, I know. That word shouuuld be out of my vocabulary by now. You haaate it.” I slap my hand against his cheek, staring up at the peaceful look in his gray eyes. “Did you know, you’re sooo beautiful?”

“That’s our cue to go.” Boris’s legs are unsteady as he stands. “It was lovely to win against you, Kolya. Mrs. Volkov.”