Her Russian detail? Lax. Three stared into the distance, two more lost in conversation. They didn’t deserve to protect her. Didn’t understand what she meant.
Two fingers, smooth as a card dealer, and the powder slid into her daiquiri, melting away in the frothy liquid.
Dropping her elbow from the bar ledge, which positioned her in Rory’s direction, she then clinked shot glasses with him. Tossed it back. She said, “Thanks, Rory, but this doesn’t mean you’re the cutest brother.BabyJake always!”
Her voice hit me like a whip. Light. Carefree. Mine.
She turned forward in her seat, ignoring my presence, and sipped her drugged drink. When she stood, her balance shifted. She slurred the edges of her speech.
“I’m gonna get us more shots.” Rory walked backward. “A few more’ll make you provide an honest assessment.”
After a murmured agreement, she turned in my direction. A sloppy smile wrapped around the straw for another sip. “Borya, hey, you’re here.” Her laugh spilled out brittle. Confused. She poked my arm. “Are you here?”
Yes. I was here. Always. Only one who’d ever been.
She faltered. I rose, arms already out. She fell into me. Gravity and I were her universe. The weight of her. The smell of her. My chest cracked open. She belonged here.
My hands moved on their own—squeezing and caressing. Her perfume filled my lungs, burning a hole straight through reason. She was mine. My palms squeezed her ass.
Shouts broke.
Russian. English. Gaelic.
The illusion of our own world shattered.
I hooked her under my arm, ready to sling her over my shoulder. My chest thundered, adrenaline sharpening every sound into needles.
Then—impact. “Don’t touch her!” Lachlan’s voice sliced through the air, raw and commanding. His shoulder crashed into my ribs, knocking the wind out of me. Natasha slipped from my grasp, crumpling to the ground.
Rage surged. I spun, driving my fist upward. Lachlan pivoted, and I struck his forearm. He swung a cross. My head snapped sideways, but I came back harder—Marine Raider grit in every move.
He slammed a knee toward my stomach. I blocked with an elbow. Countered a jab to his throat. The man staggered, but his eyes stayed locked on Natasha sprawled behind me as if to question why she hadn’t gotten up.
I swept a chair in his direction. Wood splintered as he caught it with an arm, swinging back with a haymaker that grazed mycheek. Pain flared hot. I snarled and drove forward, hooking his leg. We hit the ground, rolling, bodies colliding with tables, glasses shattering around us.
And then I glanced at the blur of bodies. Russian against Scot. I’d started a race war. A smile lit me through the bone.
“I’m gonna killye!” Lachlan’s fists converged on me. Fire in his eyes, he’d already claimed her. No. She was not his. She wasmine.
I jammed my thumb toward his eyes. He caught my wrist mid-thrust, twisted hard, forcing me onto my back. His forearm crushed against my windpipe. The crush burned the edges of my eyes until I saw darkness. Not Lachlan. I imagined the moment Vassili took Mama, all because Papa needed to put the fight first. Every medicine capsule she owned clutched in her hand, her breathing labored. Then cops and a social worker.
The fight got closer as Jamie’s eldest brother cracked a bottle against a Russian’s skull. A punch smashed my nose. I bit my eyes closed from the rain of glass that crashed over Lachlan’s head and into my face. As Lachlan shook his head from the shards, my opening appeared. I rolled sideways, landing next to Natasha.
Her eyes fluttered open. She murmured, “Enzo?”
My heart twisted—proof she needed me. Proof she wanted …me.
Lachlan charged again, reaching for my foot. I kicked back the opposite tennis shoe, and his jaw cracked beneath the hit. His knees buckle for half a second.
That second belonged to me.
I didn’t hesitate.
I bolted.
Shouts rose as I sprinted across the rooftop. My hands found the latch, the rig already hidden beneath the neon sign’s steelframe. I tugged it free, the parachute straps tight against my chest underneath the tactical jacket. Then I jumped.
The city spread below me like a promise, glittering lights and shadows. The wind howled, whipping hair into my eyes. For a fleeting instant, I turned back. Couldn’t sight Natasha from this vantage point.
