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“Why?” I must not have heard him right. It sounds like the man that was pounding his fist inches from my head a few hours ago thinks he’s taking me home.
He cups my cheek and lifts my head to see the apologetic look on his face, which only confuses me more. His thumb strokes my cheek as he hesitates in his response. “Because I just put this city’s biggest target right on your back.”
As my consciousness begins to trickle back in, the sickly panicked feeling fluttering in my chest doesn’t match the gentle touch on my forehead, softly stroking.
Then my brain picks up on that musky smell of amber and tobacco…
Oh, fuck no!
I jolt upright and, while doing so, whack my head into something rock hard. Pain shoots across my scalp and down my neck. “Ah, Jesus Christ,”I hiss while my temples throb.
“There’s my girl, always fighting.” Cash gives me a lopsided grin while rubbing his forehead. “I expected a slap, maybe a punch, but a headbutt? Nice going, I didn’t see that one coming.”
“It wasn’t on purpose, you raging idiot.” I groan and look behind him at the room I’m surrounded by. None of it’s familiar. And it says a lot about the current state of my life that I’m not surprised. “Did you fuckingkidnapme?”One sentence I never thought I’d say.
“Think of it as protective custody.” His lip twitches in amusement.
The bedroom I’m in has old, brick walls but high, white ceilings with gold crowning. There’s a fireplace against one wall, and a Juliette balcony on the other, covered by sheer, white curtains. The only furniture is an antique dresser-and-nightstand set and the bed I’m currently sitting in. With Cash perched on the side. I pull the puffy, white comforter tighter to my chest as I glare at him and try to remember what happened last.
The shooting.
Beth’s uncle was there. Cash’s brother was shot. Probably others. Shouting in Russian. Cash diving to protect me. Telling me I’m coming home with him.
Is that where I am, his home?
“What am I doing here, Cash…how did I get here?”
He sniffs and reaches out a hand to set on my leg under the covers. I draw my knees quickly up to my chest and he stares at the spot where my legs were, pressing his lips into a tight line. My breath stalls, waiting to see how he’s going to react. He’s unpredictable at best and explosive at worst.
When he doesn’t say anything, I try another question. “Why did those people come to the Den?”
“The fucking Russians.” He spits it out like it’s a dirty word. “They’re under the illusion that I killed someone precious to them.” My lungs squeeze painfully.Beth.
I choose my next words carefully, not wanting to ruin all my hard work by giving away that I know something Amanda Jones shouldn’t. “Under the illusion?”
“You’ve heard of the June Harbor Slayer?” I nod and try to swallow, but my throat is too dry. “His latest victim was thepakhan’sgranddaughter.”
My mind starts swimming, “I-I don’t know what that means.”
“The Boss. Don. Head honcho.” I try to think of what I remember of Beth’s grandfather. He always seemed like a sweet old man. He kept a candy jar in every room, and never forgot a birthday.
“Boss of what?” I think he owned a laundry mat or two…
“The Bratva. The Russian Mafia. Hey, hey—breathe. Just breathe.” I don’t even realize I’m hyperventilating until he’s cupping my face, and I realize I can’t make out his face because my vision is blurred with tears.
My lungs won’t expand. I can’t get enough air. I can’t breathe.
“Come on, in and out. Do it with me.” His voice sounds distant, but I can still feel his hands on me, so he must be close. I hear him inhale deeply and exhale slowly. On the next one, I try to match him. “That’s it, baby. Keep going. You’re safe.”
My heart is still tripping over itself in rapid beats, but my airway feels clear. I’m not suffocating. “And…and what does that have to do with me? Why am I here?” I wait for him to call me by my real name. To tell me he’s here to finish the job he started. The Russian Mafia is out for him, and I’m the only one who can identify him as the killer.
“Because I chose you.” I blink away the water in my eyes and try to read his face clearly. He’s looking at me with those deep, green eyes like someone seeing the ocean for the first time.Reverent. It doesn’t make sense. “My family was under attack. My brother was hit. And I chose to protectyou.”
“Cash, please. I don’t understand what’s going on.” He’s speaking in fucking riddles and it’s only making things worse. I shake my head in confusion.
“The Bratva thinks I killed their princess. And until I can convince them I didn’t, you will be in danger. They won’t stop until they kill someone I love.”
Someone he loves…I scoot farther away from him and eye him warily.“How did I get here Cash…”
