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I decided to get up and make breakfast. If I proved myself useful, maybe I could stick around as some personal maid or something. At this point, I had no pride left. If that's what it took to survive, so be it. Nobody ever died from being someone's little bitch for a while. Especially not if that someone was a devilishly hot man who had turned out to be my dark knight.
Andrei
I awoke to the sound of clattering plates and dishes. Startled, my hand reflexively reached for the pistol I’d stowed on my nightstand. But then I remembered where I was. Andher.
Slowly, I got up, slipped on my pants, and opened the door. I looked around the living room, but Elise wasn’t there. From the sound of things, she was making herself right at home.
“Good morning!” Her voice came in a singsong tone from the kitchen. She seemed more confident and happier than yesterday.
That’s good.
I walked to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Then I slipped my pistol into the back of my pants and passed through the living room and through the front door. As I did every morning, I walked around the wooded perimeter of the property. This was my routine, checking for changes in my surroundings and anything that could mean trouble. But all I could think about that morning was Elise and how I could protect her from her husband. But why the fuck did I even care? I didn’t know this woman, nor should I. Her husband was her own problem.
When I returned to the cabin, it smelled of bacon and coffee. Elise walked into the living room, holding two plates. They both held slices of bacon, buttery toast, and a heaping mound of scrambled eggs. She handed me one of them, and I took it without question. Then she sat down on the couch, fork in one hand and a dish in the other, and looked up at me.
“You don’t like it?”
I shook my head. “It’s not that,” I said, trying to control the sound of my voice. The thing was, I wasn’t used to this. Someone waking up under the same roof... cooking for me.
Quietly, I sat down on the other couch and started eating. I sliced the bacon with my fork and took a bite. “It’s... good. Thank you.”
“You sure? You don’t sound like you like it,” she teased my serious tone.
“No. I like it.”
She smiled wide.
After eating, I took both of our dishes into the kitchen. She followed me and smiled when I walked to the sink and rolled up my sleeves. “I’ve been thinking,” I said, rinsing the oil from the first dish. “I could get you a fake passport and a ticket to wherever you want to go, but this town isn’t safe for you any longer.”
She was quiet, staring down at the floor.
“I don’t mind paying for the ticket and setting you up with enough cash to start out,” I added. “You won’t have to worry about a thing.”
“Why?” she asked, looking up at me through her thick lashes. “Why are you so nice to me?”
“Nice?” I repeated after her, stunned. Nobody used that word in connection with me. I was a cold-blooded killer. But for some reason, I cared for her safety enough to bother. But why?
“I’ll take care of everything. All you’ll have to do is keep your head down for a bit. You’ll get a chance at a real, normal life. Isn’t that what you want?”
She bit her lower lip and avoided my gaze. “Can’t I... stay here for a little while?”
“Here? You mean South Africa?”
She shook her head. “No... I mean... here withyou,” she almost whispered.
When she looked back up at me, her eyes were wet, like she was on the verge of crying.
Fuck.
Chapter 6
Elise
The silence in the kitchen lay heavy as the seconds ticked by. I folded my hands across my chest and kept my eyes on the floor. I could feel Andrei staring at me, puzzled why someone would refuse such a kind offer. Especially someone in my shoes.
“I don't want to seem ungrateful,” I said. “I can’t even remember the last time someone was kind to me without asking anything in return. But...”
But I was tired of running. Exhausted. Done. Andrei, in all his dangerous glory, might be my only chance to ever truly be free again. It was obvious that he was from the Russian mob. The tattoos and the way he killed were proof. Then there was his room which was filled with maps and computers... and weapons. Those weren’t the sorts of things some American shoved into his backpack for a “sightseeing trip” to Durban. No.
