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She pulls her head back in surprise.
I lower my voice. “I mean, we need to conserve fuel, remember? We can’t run the heating, especially not since we stopped.”
She looks torn, but she doesn’t say anything as she leaves to get tea. I’m hoping that it’s enough to get me feeling right again. There’s still so much to do, though I’ll admit I’m having trouble remembering what that was.
My head starts spinning as I try to remain standing, so I allow myself to slump down in the seat in front of the controls and remain there until Lola returns.
When she does, she thrusts the tea in my face so hard it splashes on my chest.
The problem is, I don’t even feel it.
“Drink this,” she insists, pressing the mug to my lips.
Thankfully, I can feel that, and I take a sip, allowing the warmth to wash down my throat and warm me from the inside. It feels good, and I find myself drinking the entire mug without any regard for how it’s burning my mouth.
Lola pulls away, looking me over for a moment and sighing. “You look a little better, but you were out for a long time. What were you doing?”
“Just checking the… the thing,” I reply, my brain still a bit fuzzy.
“The ATS?”
I nod. “Right, that’s it. The wheels are obstructed by a whole heap of snow, but the tracks are mostly clear. I think it just got caked up on one side, but with some manpower, we should be able to get the snow off and be on our way.”
“You have manpower, and ones that are wearing coats instead of a flimsy dress shirt,” she says, shaking her head.
“I gave you my coat,” I reply, laughing a bit. “So, if any of my extremities fall off, I’m blaming you.”
She gives me a look that feigns annoyance, but it’s laced with a smile. “We need some of those extremities. Try to keep them intact.”
I smirk, but as my mental faculties return to me, I turn my attention back to the crisis at hand. “We need to get my men out there to clear the obstruction. I can –”
“I’ll do it,” she says, cutting me off. “Just stay there and finish your tea.”
“I’ve already…” I begin, but she’s already out the door.
13
Lola
I’m still sore from last night, just like I was the first time we had sex. Jasha is huge, and it feels like no matter how aroused I am, or how many times he claims me, I’ll never stop feeling overwhelmed by his size.
It’s not a complaint, though. Size isn’t everything, but Jasha could easily satisfy me with that alone. But there’s more, and that’s why my body gives in so easily. He’s everything a man should be in bed…
And everything he shouldn’t be outside of it.
I’m so caught up in thoughts of Jasha that I nearly run into the group of guards he has stationed out in the hallway in the middle of the train. They all turn to me simultaneously, clutching their guns like I’m some kind of threat.
It’d be funny if it wasn’t so terrifying. How could a little woman like me possibly pose a threat to a bunch of muscular Bratva guards?
I clear my throat and straighten my back, trying to appear confident when I’m practically melting under the gazes of six grey-eyed men with shaved head and jawlines like Jasha. “Jasha wanted some of you to come out and clear the blockage at the front of the train,” I say, hoping they’re not just going to shoot me first and ask questions later.
“Where is Jasha?” one of the men asks, his voice low and gruff.
“In the front of the train, recovering from the cold. You can run this by him first if you want, but I’m just telling you because we’re in a hurry.”
They all narrow their eyes at me, but they all follow me as I turn away and start walking back to the front of the train. With this many men behind me, I feel a small surge of power.
Is this what Jasha feels all the time? If so, I’m beginning to understand why he acts so entitled.
