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I stuck out my hand and answered in French. “Bonjour. I’m Alessio. Thank you for letting us hide out here.”
Theo blinked, his brilliant green eyes shocked. “Your French is flawless. Surprising for an Italian assassin.”
Ah, so Giulio had told Theo about me. A man came up behind Theo. He had dark hair that was starting to silver at the temples and blue eyes like ice. Tattoos peeked out from under a linen shirt that fit him perfectly. I froze. Recognition washed over me like an ice bath. Now the armed guards and super yacht made sense. Madre di dio. Did Theo have any idea . . . ?
I shifted closer to Giulio.
“And this is Nic.” Grinning wide, Theo pulled the larger man forward and linked their arms together.
I pressed my lips tight, not saying anything as Nic shook Giulio’s hand. “Welcome to my little boat,” he said in French, though I heard the true accent underneath.
“Giulio is terrible with French, mon grand,” Theo said. “English would be better.”
Nic spoke again, this time in English. The accent was thicker. “Welcome, and please make yourselves at home here.”
When he reached to shake my hand, I let him see exactly what I was thinking. I know who you are. His chilly gaze widened slightly, but he recovered quickly. “Welcome, Alessio.”
I nodded, unable to speak without giving anything away. We were now trapped on this man’s yacht. We needed his hospitality to stay alive. I did not wish to piss him off.
A man walked in and beckoned Nic over. Theo and Giulio began chatting about the boat and where we would sleep . . . but I kept my eye on Nic. He nodded at whatever the other man was saying. Then the two of them walked over and Nic thrust his hands in his pockets. “We must search your bags and store any weapons in our gun safe. You understand, I’m sure.”
I ran my tongue along the back of my teeth. I didn’t wish to give up my rifle. I had others at home, but this was like taking away my right arm.
Sensing my hesitancy, Giulio said in Italian under his breath, “Va bene, we’re safe here.”
Reluctantly, I handed over my rifle case and my backpack. My bag was quickly returned but the rifle was taken away, along with Giulio’s pistol. We were unarmed.
But what choice did I have?
Theo took Giulio’s hand and began tugging him toward the back. “Now, let me show you to your staterooms. Or, is it one stateroom, bello?”
I didn’t move. I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’ll be along shortly,” I said in French.
Theo stopped and his eyebrows pulled low. “Mon grand?”
Nic kept his eyes locked on mine. “Ça va, mon chou. Get your friend settled and I’ll find you on deck later.”
Then we were alone. I stared at Nikolai Kuznetsov, the pakhan of one of the most dangerous Bratva criminal syndicates in Germany. “Nic,” I said flatly.
The other man cocked his head. “Have we met?”
In Russian, I said, “No, but I know who you are.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. He switched to Russian, as well. “I see. And what do you plan to do about it?”
“Does he know?”
“No. It is too dangerous for him.”
I knew this. Russia was not known for its acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community. Even powerful Bratva leaders. “So, what? You will kill him when you are finished fucking him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
I lifted one eyebrow. “There is a reason this secret has never gotten out.”
“Because I am careful,” he snapped. “I keep my personal life anonymous and discreet.”
The exact opposite, I believed, of Theo.
