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Just not now. Not when the Russian Mafia had his nuts in a bind. I was fucking scared for him, truth be told.
The Aslanov cartel was scary as fuck. They were known for creative removal of body parts, and then delivering them in especially gruesome ways.
I did not want to see Vice’s pretty blue eyeballs delivered with a heaping plate of pasta, something I had heard about them doing.
So I rode. I rode all damned night.
When I finally pulled into the meet up I knew things were about to get dicey for Vice and his girl. There were two dozen bikers, mostly the guys who moonlighted for Cain’s firm. That was too many people.
Killer was there, thankfully. He was cool as a cucumber under pressure. Most of the guys were. But some of these guys were newer, which scared the fuck out of me.
No matter how much you trusted us all, and lord knows Cain did, it was just too many fucking folks knowing their hideout spot.
It was a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Even though we were all his brethren, who would die for him? Who the fuck knew what could happen? The Aslanov’s could threaten someone’s old lady. Or their mother. Or their fucking kid.
The Aslanov syndicate were scary mother fuckers. Which meant that Vice and his lady were going to have to move on, quickly, to God knows where. I was glad I would get to see him, even briefly. Because I highly doubted he would be coming up for air anytime soon.
“I hope she’s worth it, brother,” I muttered as I pulled out my gun and took position in the woods with a bunch of other crazy ass Untouchables. She probably was, considering how long it had taken Vice to get bit by the love bug. If this went sideways, we were putting all of our lives on the line. And our families. So it absolutely could not go fucking sideways.
The family was an oligarchy, more or less. They were tyrants in their country, and, under the surface, in ours. Hell, they had fingers reaching all over the goddamned globe.
And those fingers had steel fucking knives on the ends of them. In fact, they were known for literally wearing devices that made their fingertips into sharp metal claws.
You could do a hell of a lot of damage with Wolverine hands in a fight. Or torturing someone. The claws would make it particularly easy to pluck out an eyeball, or two, for example.
I shivered and took a sip of my carafe of coffee, still hot despite the long drive. We were silent, watching as Vice and his girl arrived, and then the stretch limo carrying the Aslanov brothers.
I took a deep breath and lifted my gun.
And then I did something I rarely did.
I prayed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Anastasia
“You aren’t sleeping,” I murmured to the man who held me in his arms. We’d spent the night like this, fully dressed on the couch, embracing but not doing anything else. Just waiting. He’d tried to get me to go to bed by myself but I hadn’t wanted to leave him. Not even for a second.
He didn’t know why.
Part of me, deep down, was terrified it would be our last night together. And we’d just had our first kiss. I wanted more. I wanted much more.
But I was afraid to ask for it.
He didn’t seem inclined to do more than hold me, though I could feel the tension in his body. He hadn’t slept, as far as I could tell. I had only dozed a bit myself. I was too worried to sleep.
I wanted Vice to be safe. I wanted him by my side. I didn’t want to leave the warm cocoon we had built around us.
“We should just run,” I whispered a few hours before dawn. “Find another place to hide. Maybe somewhere tropical,” I added, trying to tease the big, silent man who had saved me.
“They’ll find us eventually,” was his answer. End of story. No room for discussion. I tried anyway.
“So? I want to be free while I can. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you have a life you need to get back to.”
He just squeezed me and said simply ‘not an issue’, whatever that meant.
The firm, heavy, warmth of his hand comforted me as he stroked my back, sending me back into a light slumber. I felt him kiss my head and mumble something about ‘trying that a little lower’. His chest rumbled with laughter and I smiled, half asleep.
When I woke up, I was alone on the couch. I heard the familiar sounds of Vice rustling around in the kitchen making coffee. I flopped back on the couch and closed my eyes.
“What time is it?” I groaned.
“Early. Go back to bed,” I cracked an eye and saw him leaning in the cased entryway to the living room. How did he always look so calm and so unbelievably handsome?
