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“This is only for tonight. So what are your plans for tomorrow?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’ll go back to the hotel on Sandile Thusi Road. Spend the night there and then figure out where to go next.”
“You think it will be safe there?”
“Not really,” I said drearily. “Nowhere is.”
He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Who was that guy?”
I shook my head.“I don’t know,” I lied. As a mobster himself, there was no way he didn’t know who my husband was. Everybody knew Marcello Russo, the monster who ran the drug and women trafficking ring. The very two reasons why I’d rather die running than living lavishly at his side.
But if whoever my dark knight was found out who was after me, he’d stop the car right here and throw me out.
The gunshot echoed in my head and the memory of Loronzo’s horrific face dropping next to me made me shiver. He deserved it, but still...
The man watched me, then nodded. “All right...” was all he said.
We drove past the Girls’ College in Essenwood and made a left turn. I’d spent some nights around here a month ago. I’d stop by a local café and spend the money I’d stolen from Marcello on buying books. I relished those moments, imagining I was free from my husband with endless cash. No walking on eggshells any longer. No more torture when my mouth opened and he didn’t like what came out.
I turned to look at my savior. He was watching me again, pushing his back against the seat and moistening his lips with his tongue.
“What’s your name?” I asked. “I’m Elise.”
He remained silent, so I added, “Considering what we just went through together, I thought it would be nice to know each other’s names.”
“Andrei,” he returned.
I stared at the road. Nothing seemed familiar. Everything felt different in the dark. Wherever this man was taking me, he could do with me as he pleased. But so what?
I can’t go back. I don’t want to. Not ever.
“We’re almost there,” he said. “But don’t expect much.”
Chapter 3
Andrei
Ibriefly stared at her, trying to read her. She was beautiful, sitting like that, silhouetted against the night beyond the car’s window. There was something special about her, distracting. I couldn’t help but notice her thighs, exposed above the hem of her short dress, or the way her nipples stood shyly against the silk fabric.
When we turned onto a darker road, she straightened in her seat and looked out the window. From her posture, I could see she was tense.
She looked at me with those stunning eyes. By God, those were the greenest eyes I had ever seen—they perfectly matched her dimples and full lips.
This woman I’d just met made my head swim, and I wasn’t used to that.
“So where in the US is home?” I asked.
“I have no home,” she said.
“So what are you running from?” I returned.
“The usual thing women run from...” She looked at me, and I could feel her scanning my face, trying to decide whether or not to trust me.
I threw her a curt nod and kept driving. “And what’s that?”
“An asshole...” she finally said. “My husband to be precise.”
“I assume that wasn’t the guy I shot?” The way I said it sounded as if I talked about the weather. I truly had become a beast.
