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That’s all he says, and I know it’s all I’m going to get out of him.
Communication doesn’t seem to be Timofey’s strong suit, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still win him over. He hates social workers? Fine. I’ll show him we aren’t all bad. I’ve dealt with enough traumatized victims of the system to recognize one when I see it.
Of course, most of the ones I deal with are children. I bet the same principles apply. One principle above all others: I need to earn his trust.
So I’ll obey. I’ll do what he asks. I’ll go along with his plan.
Until he trusts me enough to give me some space. Preferably, that will be space alone with Benjamin.
Then I’ll take the opportunity to get us both as far away from Timofey Viktorov as possible.
25
PIPER
Timofey plants his feet on the ground and hesitates. I’m not sure what he’s doing for a second, but then I realize he’s waiting for me to get off first.
“Oh. Sorry.” I let go of him all at once. The tingle of our recent contact is still buzzing in my skin. “I guess I should get off now, huh?”
I cringe at myself as I awkwardly slide my body to one side and try to shift my leg over the seat. Just as my foot is about to touch the ground, the bike shifts under my weight. I’m not expecting the movement, and I overcompensate in the other direction.
Suddenly, I’m tipping backwards and far too off-balance to stop myself. I yelp and brace to crash headfirst against the concrete step.
Then a strong arm hooks around my back.
It happens as fast as the fall did. In an instant, Timofey has me caught and pinned me against his side.
On the ride, I was behind him. We were still practically zipped together, of course, but I couldn’t see his face. It felt…safe.
This feels very, veryunsafe.
My breasts are pressed to his shoulder and my lips are at his ear. When he turns his head to look at me, his unreal blue eyes are an inch away. I can smell peppermint on his breath.
“Whoa,” I breathe. “Good catch.”
His arm is an iron band around my waist. I feel tiny and helpless in his arms. In some ways, that’s thrilling. In many others, it’s terrifying.
“Feel free to get off any time,” he grunts.
“Oh, shit.” I slide backwards off the bike and right myself, ignoring the sudden, uneasy warmth in my core. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Of course you didn’t.”
He slides off without any trouble.Like it’s that easy.I want to give him a shove just to watch him be clumsy for one second. I don’t, though, mostly because I know that there’s no way it would go according to plan.
“Do you think I somehow planned that?” I ask.
He rounds the bike and moves towards me. Rather than wilt away, I face him.
His hands move towards my face. Without meaning to, I tilt my chin back. Ready.
Ready for what, though?
I’ll never tell.
His fingers stop short of caressing my jaw and instead hastily unclip my helmet and yank it off my head.
“Ow.” I rub my scalp where he pulled out a few strands of hair. “That hurt.”
