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“Because you offended me.” The man is deranged. His eyes glimmer and his lips peel back. “You told me no, Kane, and I can’t… I can not let this go, the way you looked at me like you were better than me.”
My hand curls into a fist as I fight back the words, I am better than you, you sick fuck. I push them down and stare firmly into his eyes, trying to mask the message I so hungrily want to roar.
“You came all the way to Malta for that?”
“I swore I wouldn’t hurt you or your family on American soil. I didn’t say anything about Malta, did I?”
I shake my head, letting out a savage peal of laughter.
“Is something funny?” Sergey snaps. “Why are you laughing?”
“Do you have any idea how much weaker this makes you look, traveling all this way on a three year vendetta? Do you have any goddamn clue how messed up that is? Your men don’t want to be sent on missions for personal revenge. Your men want to make money. This is a stupid play. That’s why I’m laughing.”
His eyes flare and he lets out a shaking sigh. “You wouldn’t be laughing if you knew what we were going to do to your daughter.”
Something snaps in me and I lunge forward, unable to stop my hands from lashing out for his throat.
I squeeze down and lift him off his feet, his eyes bulging, as Russians emerge from the streets of Rabat and stalk toward me.
“Call your men off,” I snarl, as his legs kick and his face turns red.
“I… can’t… breathe…”
I drop him and stare down hard at him, letting him know I’m not fucking around. “Call. Your. Men. Off.”
He returns my gaze for a moment, as though debating telling them to attack me. My eyes scan over the Russians, counting six, seven, eight as they emerge from the village, all of them covered in tattoos, all over their necks and arms and hands and faces.
“This isn’t New York,” I growl. “You don’t own the cops here. What do you think happens if you start some shit, eh?”
He rubs at his throat, and then turns and barks instructions in Russian. “Back to the village. Now.”
My gaze is drawn to the men’s faces, to the way they exchange glances, as though they’re tired of taking instructions from a man who’s so unhinged. But tired or not, it’d take a brave bastard to make the first move against Sergey. And the last thing I’m going to do is rely on the bravery of criminals.
“That was a mistake,” Sergey snarls.
“So was threatening my daughter.” I take a step forward. “The smartest thing you could do is leave, Sergey, leave and never come back. This grudge… can’t you see how insane it is? We compromised. I left. My daughter has lived three years of her goddamn life without me. What more do you want?”
“I want you to correct your mistake,” he snaps.
I shake my head, stunned at the delusions of this man, that he thinks I’d ever do such a thing. “That’s not going to happen.”
His hand continues to rub his throat as he laughs, gravelly and rough. “Then you can’t hold me responsible for what happens next.”
Turning away, he swaggers toward the city, my mind flooding with the thought of charging after him and ending this right here. But if I fall upon him like I want to – the fury thundering through me – I could be arrested.
I won’t be here for Lena. I won’t be here for Kelly.
Kelly.
My chest tightens as her name punches through me, a primal reminder that I have to somehow get us all out of this.
Alive, ready to face the future, ready to fill our lives with closeness and love and contentment and peace.
My cell phone rings.
Jocko.
“What is it?” I ask, answering.
“The girls are on the move.”
Fuck.
Chapter Thirteen
Kelly
I tried to stop her from heading down to the bus stop for as long as I could, but without telling her the truth, there was only so much I could do. Now we’re walking down the hill with the sun blazing in the sky, not yet at its zenith but already burningly hot.
The scent of suntan lotion rises around us, as Lena turns to me with a wide smile on her face.
She sucks in a deep breath and claps her hands together. “This is what it’s all about, right? I can’t wait to see the capital. I’ve heard it’s gorgeous. We need to find the most romantic walk we can, a place that’ll give my characters time to really explore each other, you know? But it has to be secret too.”
“Because of the whole best friend thing,” I say, a churning feeling moving through my belly.
“Exactly.”
My eyes scan the landscape as we get closer and closer to the bus stop, searching for any sign of Kane or the Russians. I have to struggle hard to fit that into my mind – the searching, the danger. Part of me still struggles to accept it, events seeming so surreal.
