He didn’t want to fight Kolya too. He would if he had to, but he’d really rather not.

For a short, crazy moment, Misha seriously considered pulling his gun and shooting Anton in the head before anybody could so much as open their mouth to say hello. He could handle his father, he could negotiate with his sister, but Kulik didn’t talk. Kulik killed. Taking him out before he could do his thing was the smartest thing to do. Of course, if Misha up and shot the bastard without provocation right in front of Riley, Misha’s family was going to be the least of his problems.

“Mikhail,” his father said, all jovial boom and open arms, as if he wasn’t completely out of his element and seriously outgunned. “I see you found what you were looking for. Excellent!”

His gaze traveled over what he could see of Riley with such cold calculation Misha widened his stance immediately and shifted to hide as much of Riley from that dangerous scrutiny as he could. Naturally, Riley didn’t appreciate the gesture and ruined it by casually moving out from behind the shield of Misha’s body to plant himself firmly beside him. He’d dropped the duffel bag with his few remaining possessions and Misha could hear a soft thump and the slide of cloth over dirt when Andrej kicked it out of the way. Misha desperately wanted to glance over and check just how mad Riley was by this point, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off Anton.

“Yeah,” he said, mind racing desperately to find a way out of this that wouldn’t end in a lot of people dying. “I found him.” Anton was staring at Riley with a completely unreadable expression, but he wasn’t going for his gun yet. Misha was willing to count that as a win. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, Misha, aren’t you happy to see your father?”

Enough sarcasm there to drown a horse, and a vicious anger that promised blood and vengeance and was aimed almost exclusively at Riley.

Riley, who didn’t flinch and didn’t budge an inch, who was no doubt returning Vasiliy’s stare with that particularly charming expression of his that said he was seeing something pretty disgusting, something he was likely going to be scraping off his boots in a minute or two. Riley’s survival instincts were a little subpar, sometimes.

Misha nodded his head at the group of gunmen lined up behind his father. He’d worked with all of them before, had hired half of them personally. Talk about adding insult to injury. “What’s with the entourage?”

“I thought you might need help. Didn’t want you to be late to your mother’s party. You know how she gets.”