“I said I want to see him.”
“Oh?”
I’m not sure whether it’s a good idea or not. Sasha Stroviak’s a criminal, but he’s also Alexei’s brother. We’re being chased by murderers, and Sasha probably has relevant experience and advice to pass on.
I dig through the delivery box and frown. “No comb or hairbrush? Alexei, you have one?”
“In my duffle bag.”
I go over to his black leather duffle bag and find it’s resting on an assault rifle.
“My, God. I feel I am back in Russia, dating a soldier.”
“You dated a soldier?”
“Yes. Too old for me, but yes.”
“How old?”
“Mmm, twenty-nine. I am sixteen then. He wants me to live in his apartment. My friends are against this, and he gets very angry. They move me to house of their old grandmother until he will go away. Instead, he shoots bullets into her wall. It is very crazy time. I decide no more soldiers for me.” I drag the comb through my hair, which isn’t easy. I curse. “Going to bed with wet hair makes a big mess.” When I glance over, Alexei is staring at me. “What is it?”
“Come here. I’ll do it.”
“Yes, try.” I move to a chair and sit cross-legged before him. He takes a handful of my hair and tugs against the tangles until they submit to the comb. After a time, he can pull the comb through from roots to ends. When it’s smooth, I put my hair into a braid with a band around the tail to keep it from losing control again. “Thank you. You are very good pet owner,” I tease.
He smiles and winks. “Give me a kiss.”
“Hmm.” I hesitate, then rise and give him the kiss he wants.
His arms come around me and press me against his body. “We’re good together.”
“Yes.”
“You should stay with me even after the month’s up.” His thumb rubs my jaw.
“For how long?”
“How long have you got?”
I blow out a breath and tilt my head, not really understanding what his words mean. “It is not safe for you. You know this?”
“Safe is overrated.”
“What means overrated?”
“It means being safe isn’t as important as people think. Also…” He moves my hand up to his bicep and flexes. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, your body is very strong. And your gun is big too.” I lick my lips. “But Egorov has many guns, and he does not even have to shoot them himself. He shoots in New York from Chicago.” I draw in a breath and exhale, my heart thumping painfully in my chest. “You have strong feelings for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Mmm.” I glance away and nod. I want to deny my own feelings. I’ve been trying to. But right now, when people are dying and so much is at stake, it feels wrong to lie. In Russian, I whisper, “I’m in love, too.”
“Natalia—”
My hand shoots up, so my fingers cover his mouth. “No. Please, no,” I whisper. “We must not get dizzy about feelings. There is too much danger.” I raise my gaze to lock eyes with him. “All right?”
He nods.
