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He reaches his hand out and I grab it and squeeze. He squeezes right back and I see determination flash through his eyes once again.Thank God.
“I’ll die protecting you,” he vows.
That’s not exactly what I want to hear, but then the sound of heavy footsteps fills the air and we both turn to see a stocky, balding man covered in tattoos. The confident way he walks and the fact that he’s flanked by the two beasts tells me that this is Anton Petrov.
“Open the door,” Petrov demands. “Bring them to me.”
Oh, no.I shrink back against Dash and he moves in front of me, blocking me from Petrov. But that doesn’t stop the guards who each grab hold of our arms and yank us right out of the cell. Petrov’s beady eyes slide down my body and I force myself to tilt my chin higher and not cringe.
“Our friend Nikolai told me some interesting things, Mr. Slater,” Petrov says, turning his attention to Dash. “But I have a few more questions. If you do not answer them, she bleeds.”
A muscle flexes in Dash’s cheek and I can feel the tense fury vibrating off his body.
“You touch her and I’ll break every one of your goddamn fingers,” Dash growls, voice low and threatening.
Whatever traumatic memories were haunting him earlier are now neatly locked back up again and the Dash Slater I remember is back in full force. And he’s pissed.
Petrov must sense he’s in danger, must see the wild look in Dash’s eyes, because he calls for backup. Three more guards arrive and Petrov grins. It’s too slick and makes my stomach curl in distaste.
“Tell me, Slater,” Petrov says, “would you like to watch your woman die? All I have to do is order my men to beat her to within an inch of her life and they will. Without question.” He steps closer to me and touches a curl. All I want to do is punch him in his smug face, but I don’t dare. “It would be a shame, though, to destroy such a beauty.”
I notice the way Dash leans forward, ready to spring into action, but then Petrov releases the curl and it springs away. I breathe a silent sigh of relief, glad to be rid of his filthy touch.
“I think I will have my men beat you instead. Then I will enjoy her, down on her knees and sucking on my—”
Dash leaps forward, throwing himself into Petrov, and they fly backward. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast and his fists pound into Petrov’s face with so much force that I hear bone crack. By the time the guards manage to pull Dash off Petrov, he’s the one who’s bleeding, profusely, from his broken nose, split lip and sliced cheek. And it looks like Dash started to make good on his promise, breaking two of the Russian’s fingers.
It took the combined strength of three men to wrench Dash off and two to help Petrov stand up again. Dash is breathing hard, a possessed look in his eyes. His hands are still clenched into fists and covered in blood, but Petrov is the one who looks ready to fall over. He’s cradling his broken fingers close to his body and wiping the blood away from his dripping nose with the back of his other hand.
Good,I think.I’m glad Dash just beat the shit out of him.
But I’m not thinking of the consequences, and those arrive with a swift brutality that leaves me gasping. Between wheezes and cupping his bloody nose, Petrov screams in Russian and the next thing I know, I’m being held securely by one of the beasts.
The other four attack Dash.
“NO!” I yell, twisting and fighting to loosen the guard’s grip. But it’s like trying to break free from concrete. Impossible.
Helpless, I watch while two guards hold Dash and the other two punch, hit, spit and yell at him. Every single time a blow connects with Dash’s body, I flinch. He’s so strong, fearless and tough. Seeing him suffer through hit after hit makes my stomach churn. They aren’t even giving him a chance. Just beating the holy hell out of him until his long legs finally give out and they’re forced to hold him up.
And still they beat him.
Tears stream down my face and when Petrov finally gives the order to stop, they drag Dash back into the cell, release their hold and he crumples to the ground. The guard lets me go, too, and I race over to Dash, dropping down beside him. His poor, beautiful face is bruised and starting to swell, and I lift his head and lay it in my lap.
The clank of the cell door closing makes my head snap up. “Assholes,” I hiss, stroking my hand over Dash’s thick hair.
“No one steals from me,” Petrov says between gritted teeth. “You will both pay.”
With his warning hanging in the air, Petrov snaps an order to his men and they all leave. Alone again, I lean over Dash and use the edge of my sleeve to try to wipe away some of the blood on his face. I hate how he flinches and the last thing I want to do is hurt him more.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. Fuck, Lake, I dragged you into this mess.”
“That’s not how I remember it,” I tell him, lightly touching the black hair near his temple. “I think I’m the one who interrupted your date and brought a bunch of bad guys to the party.”
He starts to chuckle then hisses in a sharp breath and lightly touches his ribs.
“Don’t laugh,” I say. “Did they break something?”
