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“Well, well, well,” she purrs in Russian, studying me from beneath hooded lids and thick, silken lashes. She has a light red spray across her lips, and a gun disarmed but still in hand at her side. “I was hoping to reunite over coffee, but this will do. You are a hard man to pin down, Aleksander. As always.”
“What are you doing here?” I don’t bother not to let the annoyance I feel bleed into my tone. I slide my pistol back into my holster and cross the room, meeting her beside the door. Outside, my men are still skulking around the perimeter. I notice a sleek black motorcycle, parked behind my truck. Itmust be hers—and she must have followed us here. “Go home, Marya. You’re not safe here.”
“I am not safe anywhere. And neither is that little American girlfriend of yours—or so I have heard.” Her smile is overly familiar and feline, almost cruel. When I shove past her, giving her a cold look, she only laughs, and falls into step beside me. “Your uncle sent me. There’s no need to be so cross with me. I am only following orders. As you should be.”
“I don’t have time for this. My uncle can hold onto his requests until I return to Moscow.”
“Will you? Return to Moscow?” Marya catches my arm, and I stop, turning to look at her. Her rich red hair is loose, damp at the ends and crown with rain. Her pale brown eyes are soft with something like real concern. “Word is that you intend on marrying this American. Why, Aleks? Why throw away something as valuable as marriage? As your lineage?”
How the hell did my mother or uncle guess this was my intention? And how much more danger will it put Kat in?I need to end this now. I need to marry her now, before it’s too late.Marrying her will be like putting a seal on my intentions. It will be like naming her my property, and my most valuable property at that. But all she is right now is a very popular target.
And by the look in Marya’s eye, growing more popular by the day.
“This is none of your concern,” I tell her. Yuri is pacing the perimeter. They seem to have decided that everything is clear, and are now pulling red jugs of gasoline from where we stowed them in the back of my truck. It’s time to begin tying up these loose ends. “And if you think being sent here by my family will change anything, you’re wrong.”
“You haven’t even given me a chance yet,” she says, pouting. “And look—do you see how easy it was to find you? To follow you? You are making this easy for your enemies.”
She’s not wrong. But I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of saying so. “Go back to Moscow. I’ll deal with you later.”
“Well, as it turns out, I’m a bit better than you at following orders—but not yours, Aleks. Yours is not the only life or future that hangs in the balance. My family’s political stability and the protection of our assets is tied up in me, and my relationship to you.” Her eyes harden. She looks like Yuri does, when he gets that aspect of a soldier. I suppose, it’s all most of us know: duty over self. “I’m not just here for a visit. I’m here to bring you back to Moscow, one way or another.”
“Then let me finish my task here.” I’ll make no assurances to her. I owe her nothing. And right now, all she’s doing is being in the damn way. “Then I will return to Russia. Until then, I suggest you stay back. There is work to be done, and it’s the dangerous kind, I’m afraid.”
She shoves her pistol into her waistband, following me as I head back toward the truck. There are other locations to visit, other tips to investigate and hunches to follow. The day is early yet, but every second that ticks by is a second that Kat could be hurt. She could be under a knife, being tortured. She is at Konstantin’s mercy, of which I know there is precious little. I don’t have time for gang politics. Much less of the female and marrying kind.
“You are making a mistake,” Marya hisses, following me up the hill toward the truck. Behind us, the smell of smoke begins to thicken. I hear fire as it hisses over the drench of oil, as it begins to eat the house, and swallow every violent trace of our having been there. “This girl is no one. She canbeno one, and offer you nothing—”
“What do you know of it?”
“I know she is an American, with no connections and no money, and therefore she is of no value to you.” Marya’s tone is insistent, almost begging. She is a beautiful woman, well-bred, well-grown, well-versed; but when she talks like this, she is reduced to a spoiled little girl, practically stamping her foot.How could I ever resign myself to marrying someone like her?“Do you really think marrying her will protect her?”
“As it would protect anyone.” I open the driver’s side door of the truck. When I go to close it, Marya shoves herself in front of it, wedging it open. I grip the steering wheel with one hand, so blindly furious I could snap again, just as I did inside. “This is never going to happen, Marya. Now move, before I make you move.”
“She will never be safe from him,” she whispers, angry and urgent. “Let her go. Don’t burn your whole life down because he found the girl you fucked once, or loved once, or whatever. Don’t throw away your entire life on a girl that meansnothing.”
I pull out my pistol, cock it, and shove it straight against her forehead. Marya gasps, recoiling, staggering away from the truck. I’m surprised at her reaction, though I don’t show it—and relieved. I wouldn’t ever shoot Marya. But I’m pleased that some part of her thinks I would.
Better to be feared, after all, it seems. “Go home,” I repeat in Russian, turning the key. Down the hill, the inn is engulfed in yellow flames. A dark pillar of smoke twists up into the paling sky; in the distance I hear the first wail of a fire truck siren.
Time to move.
I reach over and slam the door, giving Marya as cold and dismissive a look as I can. She shoots one straight back, her spine rigid and her hands clenched in tight little fists at her side. Still, she makes no move to follow as I reverse. My men are loading into their SUVs. We have a few other locations to shake down. Or, I suppose, shoot down. Depending on the circumstances.
Something has snapped inside of me. Maybe Marya is right—maybe I am burning down the world I’ve spent so manypainstaking years building; maybe I am throwing my life away. But what the hell does it matter? If right now, I can think of nothing but her, what doesanyof it matter? She may be hurt. She may be dead. She may be lost to me already.
But so long as there is even the slightest chance that Kat can be saved, I will do everything my power to save her. After all these years, it seems I am still in possession of her; after all, she gave herself right back to me last night. I don’t give a damn what she wants. I know what Kat needs. It is me.
Fighting for her, like I should have—all those long years ago.
Fighting for her, even if it means burning the whole goddamn world down.
Chapter Thirteen
Kat
Where am I?
What the hell happened?
