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She renewed her escape efforts, and Kostya decided he’d had enough. He lifted her higher off the ground, making her squeak in surprise, then pressed his shoulder to her stomach and hefted her into a fireman’s carry. Her purse slapped against his chest, and its strap strained, caught between their bodies. Maya shrieked and beat at his back, but he was in no mood for games. His hand came down hard on her ass, giving her three hard spanks while he held her legs still against his chest, and she was silent at last.
At the end of the alley, in the direction she’d come from, Popov’s watchdogs had arrived. One of them had a phone held up to his ear. The other had already started down the alley toward Kostya.
Kostya wasn’t going to risk a confrontation, much less a shoot-out, where there was too much of a chance that innocents like Maya could get caught in the crossfire. He’d been raised to fight, and he did it well, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that there was a time and a place for combat, and here, in broad daylight, with a young woman his heart was soft for slung over his shoulder…this wasn’t it.
He turned and ran.
“Hey!” the man shouted. Heavy footfalls crashed onto the pavement behind him, but Kostya ignored them. He focused on his own heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest as he sucked in air to feed his muscles. He was a machine built to endure and to perform, and he would do his duty until his parts wore down to nothing. He would keep Maya safe, and he would keep himself safe in the process.
Popov would not have her. Not now.
Kostya ran down the alley, cut around a corner, and sprinted down the street. They’d arrived on a main stretch of road, and several pedestrians turned their heads to give him worried looks as he ran by. He knew what he was risking by carrying Maya over his shoulder like this. Between CCTV and everyone owning a smartphone, he was making a scene that would draw unwanted attention, and he knew it. Thankfully, Maya wasn’t making any noise or screaming for help, which surprised him. If he hadn’t felt the tension and anger rolling off her in waves, he would have thought she’d passed out.
At the end of the street, Kostya flagged down a cab, thankful he now had cash on hand along with identification, even if it was fake. He wrenched open the back door of the cab, unloaded Maya into it, and jumped in after her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as if she were his lover instead of his prisoner. Kissing the top of her head, he squeezed her in warning. They still hadn’t gotten away, and he wouldn’t tolerate her interfering or lashing out.
“1170 Cavendish, and quickly!” Kostya barked at the driver. The man wasted no time pulling away from the curb and merging with the light traffic. Only then did Kostya relax against the seat. His heart beat against his rib cage as sweat cooled on his brow.
For now, they were safe.
“1170 Cavendish?” Maya asked. She sounded breathless, and he assumed that he’d knocked the wind right out of her lungs. It had been an unfortunate, but necessary, measure. She’d been so panicked that she hadn’t been able to see clearly. When they had a chance to talk, and she saw through what was happening, she would appreciate what he’d done. “What’s at 1170 Cavendish?” she asked.
“Matreshka,” Kostya said. “It’s a restaurant. We’ll be at liberty to talk there. You won’t have to worry about anyone following you.”
Maya looked him over suspiciously, then looked out the window. She said nothing.
That was fine.
All too soon, she’d have no choice but to talk.
* * *
Kostya pushed open the door of Matreshka, a restaurant the Sokolov family owned, and one his father had favored for private meetings in the past. He nodded to the young hostess as he passed, leading Maya along the side of the restaurant until he arrived at the kitchen doors. He pushed his way inside unopposed and brought her past the busy sous-chefs to the storeroom, where they could be alone. Kostya closed the door behind them, let out a breath in a whoosh, and admitted the truth.
“You deserve to know what’s been going on,” he said simply, facing her. “I came to London to find you—to kidnap you and use you against your father. But those men? They aren’t loyal to the Sokolovs. I can promise you that.”
“Then why did you do what you did? Why didn’t you just leave me to them, if they’re my father’s men?” Maya demanded. He’d led her into the restaurant by the wrist, but now she tore free from his hold, which he allowed. There was nowhere she could run, and they were no longer in danger of being apprehended by Popov goons. “When I found you, your injuries were real. Did you pay someone to do that to you in the hopes that I would take pity on you and bring you into my home?”
He shook his head. “No. I was jumped. Probably by those same two guys.” Kostya remembered standing in shadows in the alley watching the entrance to Maya’s place when someone hit him from behind. Then nothing until he woke up in her bed with her cleaning him up. He’d like to think he got in a few jabs of his own, but he doubted it.Blyad, when the others found out, they were not going to let him live any of this down.
Maya crossed her arms in front of her chest. Kostya saw her lips tremble but was impressed at how well she was holding it together. “I still don’t understand any of this. I’ve had nothing to do with my family for six years. Why would you think my father would care what happens to me?”
She began to shake, and her legs started to give out. Before he had time to think, Kostya grabbed her to keep her from falling. She held her body stiffly against his, so he tightened his hold, hugging her. Slowly, she began to relax but the trembling continued.
“I wasn’t lying when I said that I’d forgotten.” Kostya didn’t allow the pain in his heart to manifest in his voice. He didn’t want Maya to think that he’d manipulated her emotions. His methods of punishment were brutal and straightforward, and he didn’t play mind games or try to manipulate his victims to worm his way into hearts. He wasn’t even sure he’d know how to do that. Emotions played no part in the life that he led—he had no idea how to fake them. And he wasn’t sure how to respond to them, either, which was what made being around Maya so damned confusing.
Kostya couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared for his well-being, let alone made sure he was okay. His mother came to mind, but even she was careful not to do it around his father, who would have accused him of acting like a child instead of the man he was expected to become. No, emotions were for the weak-willed or for children, not the Sokolov brothers—not even when theywerechildren themselves. Maya lifted her head to look at him and in her eyes , he saw fear, anger, and regret. It pained him to think he’d been the one to cause all of it.
“I lied to you about my name,” he answered, “but that’s all. I couldn’t remember why I’d come to London, but now that I’ve remembered, I knew I couldn’t keep it from you.”
“Why?” Maya demanded. She pushed back from his arms, and he let her go. Her lips drew together in a tight line, and she narrowed her eyes, doing her best to look tougher than she was. It almost made him smile—almost.
For Kostya, even thisalmostwas a rarity.
“Because I care about what happens to you,” he murmured in return. Slowly, he lifted a hand and caressed her cheek, knowing that surprise showed briefly on his face when Maya didn’t pull away. “You showed me kindness when I was weak, and you cared for me when anyone else would have left me to die. I want to repay the favor, Maya. I know that you’ve been doing your best to escape your father’s clutches, and I think we can work together to take him down.”
CHAPTER12
Maya
