The Russian mafia wasn’tmorally gray.They were just plainevil.
But she hadn’t taken her opportunity to escape. That bathroom window caper had been Colleen’s escape plan until Svetlana had needed it more. Since that hadn’t worked, she’d have to figuresomething elseout.
Colleen was a farm girl who’d worked in a feed store her whole life. She’d been delivering receipts from her mom at the cash register to her father in the storeroom when she could barely toddle.
“Self-reliant” didn’tbeginto describe her.
She was a polar bear, just fine being cold and frosty and only interested in other polar bears to screw and then throw the hell out.Don’t let the cave door hit you on your fluffy butt, Mr. Boy Polar Bear. Just get the hell out of my den.
But thethingsTristan hadsaid.
How’d he put it? What were those terrifying and claustrophobic and exhilarating things he’d said?
I want you to sit at my feet and hold onto my leg like I’m your everything, because you already are mine.
That part at the end had tumbled Colleen like an avalanche.
And now his hand was wrapped around hers like a steel trap, and the polar bear in Colleen wanted to yank herself the hell out and lumber across the frozen wasteland into the blowing snow and midnight sun.
Panic.
3
Torn
Colleen
The helicopter banked, turning in the California evening above Los Angeles. The sky darkened as the sunset over the sea caught fire outside the helicopter’s window.
Colleen leaned, tugging at her hand a little where Tristan held her fingers.
He didn’t release her. Indeed, Tristan seemed to grip her fingers a little more firmly as he and Micah jabbered on about airports and boarding school friends.
Airports!The helicopter would eventually land at anairport.
Yep. Airport.
Colleen relaxed her hand until it became limp and tried to drag it away from him. Between being drenched and the cold sweat oozing from her palm, her hand probably felt like an eel.
Eels were notoriously hard to catch. Tristan King shouldn’t be able to hold onto her hand that easily. Her fingers should be flopping on her own leg by now.
Butstill,her hand was bundled up in his.
His fingers flexed and then wove through hers, making a giant, mutant fist.
Between all that stuff that he had said back in the hotel room in Malibu about how he really liked her and now this weird thing of trapping her hand in his, Colleen became a hooked fish on the end of the line, flopping to get away.
She bounced against her harness as she tried to stand and leap. “I’m really nervous about flying, especially in a helicopter, and I need to hold onto my harness.”
Tristan looked concerned and leaned outward. “Is your seatbelt not latched right? I can make sure that buckle is secure.” He reached toward her chest with his claw-like fingers extended like he was going to tear her heart out.
Colleen crossed her arms over her chest like she was in a straitjacket. “I’m fine! My buckle is fine!Jeez,it’s hot in here.When are we landing?”
Tristan withdrew his hand, but he kept it raised by his shoulder and in plain sight. “We should be at LAX within a few minutes. I’ve already had a call from Jian that he’s readying the plane.”
“Well, good!I mean, I suppose that’s safer.”
“Right,” Tristan said, and then he looked down, frowning.
