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“The first thing that comes to mind.”
“Sabaka Bobik,” she blurts out.
I cringe. Her pronunciation is atrocious. “Sabaka Bobik? Where in the hell did you unearth that?”
“It’s a cartoon character.”
I cock my head and regard her as she chuckles. There is something about her... something that makes my demons sleep. I don’t remember the last time I felt so calm in someone’s presence. Moving my right hand to the back of her neck, I bury my fingers into her hair. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t flinch as I expect her to, only watches me. There is no way she’s a spy. Her face is like an open book, and, as I have already concluded, she can’t lie worth a damn.
That still leaves the question of what she was doing on that truck. I wonder about it for probably the thousandth time as I bend my head until my mouth is right next to her ear. “I will find out what you’re hiding, eventually.”
I stand utterly still, trying to ignore the compulsion to lean in and inhale Sergei’s scent. He is wearing that cologne again,the one that reminds me of how it felt to be pressed to his solid chest, with those strong arms holding me close. I am not an overly affectionate person, but I imagine my face snuggled into the crook of his neck while his hand slides up and down my back. Like he did that first night.
Sergei straightens, the tip of his nose brushing my cheek in the process, and my breath catches. My eyes follow him as he walks out of the room, and I still feel the goose bumps on the sensitive skin at the back of my neck where his hand has just been. This man is highly dangerous. I’ll have to focus all my energy on getting out of here as soon as possible. This conclusion, however, has nothing to do with his reputation, and everything to do with the fact I don’t like the way my body, as well as my brain, react to him. Being attracted to a person who keeps me prisoner is not normal.
A sound of loud barking outside reaches me, and I walk toward the window and look down at the patio in front of the house. Sergei is standing at the edge of the driveway, holding a stick while Mimi runs around him in excitement. He launches the stick toward the other end of the patio and Mimi dashes after it. For a dog that size, she is rather fast. I move my gaze back to Sergei, wondering why he insists on holding me here.
Does he really believe I’m a spy? If so, wouldn’t it be more reasonable to have me gone? It doesn’t make sense.
It’s rather hard to connect the ruthless, crazy persona my father’s men described, with the guy who is currently rolling on the grass with his dog, and laughing. A killing machine—that’s how they labelled him. Felix also said a similar thing, so there must be some truth in all that, but still...
Placing my palm on the window in front of me, I watch the man who’s been the center of my thoughts since the first moment I saw him.
Chapter 6
I pretend I’m engrossed in my breakfast while secretly watching Angelina on the opposite side of the table. She’s holding a spoon frozen halfway to her mouth, and stares at Mimi who’s nudging Angelina’s side with her snout.
“Relax. She won’t bite you,” I say.
“Are you sure?”
“She only bites people when I tell her to. And you’re too bony for her taste, anyway.”
“Well, that’s a relief, I guess.”
“She wants you to pet her.” I nod toward the dog. “If you don’t, she is going to pester you all day.”
“She doesn’t exactly look like a cuddly type.”
Because she isn’t. Mimi doesn’t like new people. Or people in general, to be more exact.
Angelina reaches out to scratch the top of Mimi’s head, and Mimi licks her palm. The way my dog acts around her is unexpected. She started following Angelina around the house and always keeps her in sight, even without my commands. When Angelina sleeps, Mimi makes sure her head is precisely positioned where she can watch Angelina with one eye, while keeping the other on the door. It’s the norm for protective dogs to place themselves between the person they’re guarding and the source of a possible threat.
Maybe she’s picking up the protective vibes from me. The image of Angelina curled up on the floor of that truck comes to mind, and I close my eyes, squeezing my fork. I will never forget the look in her eyes, like I was some kind of savior instead of aman whose main purpose was to end lives. It’s been years since I felt the compulsion to protect anyone, except myself, and even that’s rare. Most of the time, especially my last few years in the service, I didn’t actually give a damn if I lived or not. But where Angelina is concerned, I have this inexplicable need to grab her and always keep her next to me, so no one can hurt her ever again.
“I played a round of poker with Felix the other night,” she says. “You were right. He cheats.”
“I told you.” I snort. “What did you lose?”
“I have to prepare dinner.”
“You were lucky. The last time I played with him, I lost my car.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup. Then, I had to buy it back from him. He charged me twice the actual price. Asshole.”
“Why didn’t you just buy a new one?” She widens her eyes at me.
