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Even from behind the car, I can see Rodion’s hackles raise. His entire body seems to inflate with rage. “Before I killed the man who tried to take me out, I tortured him. I’ll give you three guesses whose name he gave when I asked him who sent him.”
“Right, because hitmen are notoriously trustworthy,” Timofey says sarcastically.
“I’ve always been loyal to you.”
“As I’ve been to you,” Timofey says. “I’m telling you: I didn’t send anyone after you.”
Rodion folds his hands behind his back. His arms barely move. Timofey probably can’t tell he’s reaching into his pocket. He definitely doesn’t see the knife Rodion tucks into his palm.
But I do.
“And I’m telling you,” Rodion says, slipping the handle into his shirt sleeve, letting the blade hang down into his palm, “I don’t believe you.”
It happens so fast I don’t have time to think.
Rodion charges across the garage and lifts the arm with the knife.
Timofey starts to react, and he might respond in time. He might knock the blade out of Rodion’s hand. He might save himself.
But he might not.
With my bra clasps flapping in the wind and no shirt on, I jump to my feet and run straight at Rodion.
It’s not what anyone would call graceful, but I have the element of surprise on my side. I slam into the arm holding the knife, and the blade clatters across the floor.
Rodion reacts quickly, turning his shoulder and sending me ricocheting over towards Timofey.
Timofey wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me behind him. “Fix your fucking bra,” he barks.
I quickly kick the knife the rest of the way under the black car and then adjust my bra. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Rodion snorts. “You had your girlfriend hiding as backup? No wonder your hitman failed. You’re obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel.”
“Shut the fuck up and leave, Rodion.” Timofey keeps shifting in front of me to keep me and Rodion separated.
Rodion leans to the side and wags his brows at me. “Afraid I’ll see something I like?”
“I’m not afraid of anything. But I will cut your eyes out if you look at her like that again.”
“Careful, Timo.” Rodion wears an easy smile now, but I can see the tension rippling through him. He’s not masking his rage as well as he thinks he is. “Keep talking like that and your little lady here might figure out who you really are.”
“I already know who he is,” I snap.
It would probably be smart to keep my mouth shut, but the words spewed out of me before I could stop them. It was the suggestion that I don’t know Timofey that triggered the word vomit.
I’ve learned a lot about him in the last twenty-four hours.Like the way he sounds when he comes.
More to the point, I’ve seen a side of him I know Rodion hasn’t seen. I’ve seen Timofey passionate and gentle and caring. I’ve seen him hold a sick woman’s hand and convince her that her kids will be okay.
I know exactly who he is, in all the ways that matter.
Rodion snorts. “You think so?”
“I know so,” I spit. “I know he’s your don. And I know he could have you killed by your own Bratva brothers if he wanted.”
Rodion raises his brows and looks at Timofey. “Wow. I was in hot water for telling her I’m a professional killer, but now, you’ve told her you’re the professional killer’s boss? Sounds like a double standard to me.”
“I get to make the rules and you get to follow them,” Timofey says. “Leaving now would be a good start.”
