A stranger in all black stood in the shadows in front of a darkened storefront.
The passing vehicle was gone before I could turn back.
I ran to my car, reaching for the door. My fingertips brushed the handle when he rushed toward me.
The man knocked the pepper spray from my hands. The taser was my last hope, and I didn’t think he expected it. I zapped him in the neck.
As his body seized, he forced out a hard breath, broke the prongs, and tugged me to him. The muscles in my arms became mush beneath his steely hold. The stranger unlocked the rear door of my SUV and shoved me inside.
16
LACHLAN
Natasha blurted out the past,like she might lose her nerve. Arms clasped around her chest, she trembled slightly. “W-when he finished, he spoke in a different language, kissing me once more … like we were …” Natasha melted into shame.
Questions threatened to leap from me, but I tried to focus on her needs first. “What did he say?”
“He said,” she murmured, “I’d made my mark on him. Now he’d make his mark on me. A mark so I’d never forget him.”
How could she forget? “What language?”
“I still hear his voice. Russian.”
“Did you recognize anything about him? Was he one of your father’s enemies?”
Her head shook. “Nope. He … didn’t carry himself like any Russian I know, and even my father’s enemies are on speaking terms with him. Anyone else? Too afraid to try something like this.”
Even my father’s enemies are on speaking terms with him? What the hell did that mean? Despite wanting just to stay present with her, I asked, “Make his mark …? How’d you mark him?”
“I don’t know.”
Was it that simple? I wanted to call Jake. Ask my baby brother questions. Primarily, how did I console the woman I loved? A woman who’d already endured more than most in one lifetime.
Cancer. Now rape?
“Lach …”
My priorities repurposed themselves when I nearly drowned in her wet hazel eyes. First, I’d support Natasha. Remain in the here and now. After that, I’d identify her attacker.
“You never reported it?” I softened my approach, shoving my fingers through my hair and biting back a cuss word. “Man, I’m ready to organize a mob.”
As I paced around, she offered a hollow smile that wouldn’t reach her eyes in a hundred years. “I couldn’t report it.”
Why?Rather than asking more questions, I sat at the bed’s edge, pulling her onto my lap, and her cheek rested against my chest. A sigh brushed through her lips. I must’ve made the right move. Finally.
“Lachlan,” Natasha murmured, hand at my jaw, “you’re ready to commit murder.”
Had never considered it, but I imagined killing the man who touched her.
“You wouldn’t,” she groaned, reading my mind.
You don’t know, Cutie Pie.
“Pop would. And remember, he spared no one in the Chelomey Bratva. Adrian’s father?”
“Was just as guilty. His dad had Jordyn.”
“And other women too,” Natasha added. “Yep. Pop also retaliated against the goons. Some taking orders just as vicious as Adrian. Others? Needed a paycheck.” The weight of her decision seemed to press on her. I climbed behind her and massaged her shoulders while she continued. “My family—no,my dad’s side of the family. The Resnovs left no one alive. One attempt to touch me resurrected my grandfather Anatoly’s old credo: ‘Touch what’s mine and the funeral home becomes rich.’ My pophatedthat man’s guts, and what Adrian tried to do? It made Pop turn into his father.”
