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“Wipe the footage at the LAX terminal, zaika,” I heard Viktor rumble into the phone just before he hung up. He turned on me. “Change of plans. You’re coming home with me.”
I dug my heels in, trying to come to a stop. “Absolutely not!”
“Briana, there isn’t time. We need to get in that truck and drive like hell to my villa. I’ll explain everything on the way.”
I didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the scary tone of his voice, or maybe it was the way he suddenly was looking around us, as if hyperaware of our surroundings. Still undecided, I tried to reason through everything. But Viktor wasn’t having any of that. He yanked me back to his chest, snatching the suitcase from my hand. I had no choice but to go with him. I could have screamed or thrown a fit, but some sixth sense kept that option buried.
“What is going on?” I demanded as he dragged me forward, not bothering to hide the anger in my voice.
Viktor snorted. “Get in the backseat, and if I tell you to duck, do it.”
I blanched. “Viktor—”
“Do it! Now!” The door was open, and he tossed my roller bag into the truck once more. It crashed against the opposite door. And then his hands were on me, picking me up and hoisting me into the truck cab. I was too shocked to struggle. The door slammed on my delayed protest.
Viktorran. I blinked, watching him climb into the driver’s seat. He peeled out of the spot where he’d illegally parked, ignoring the airport employees.
My gaze slid to his arm. “I’m no doctor, but you’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”
Viktor grunted, leaning over the steering wheel and scanning the traffic.
“Viktor,” I barked.
“Toss me your torn blouse,” he finally responded. He wasn’t scared—not one bit. When he leaned over and took something black and sleek out of the glove box my heart stopped. He tucked the gun under his thigh. I didn’t move.
“Bri?” he snapped, blowing out a breath. “I’ll explain everything—but once we’re safe.”
“Why do you have that?” I choked out. But even as I panicked, part of me realized how natural it was for him to have the weapon.
“Self-defense, suits.” The glance he flicked me through the mirror was heavy. “Can I have that blouse now? I just had this truck detailed.”
“A little late now; you leaked everywhere!” I laughed, the manic noise bubbling out of me. And yet, I found myself trembling as I fished the torn garment off the floor where I’d discarded it.
Chapter 18 – Viktor
Briana moved forward. From my peripheral, I caught the tremble in her fingers. My arm throbbed like a bitch, but I fueled the pain into something useful. She didn’t hand me the garment but set to work binding the wound herself.
