“Please!” He groaned. “My name is Jake. But forget about that. Forget about me. I’ll forget you came here.”
My gaze landed on a photo of the brainiac and a blond in a lab coat.
“Simona, what are you looking—hey, stop. Drop it!” Jake scrambled to his feet. When I turned around, he was close. Too close. With the sharpchink,I splayed my switchblade at his chiseled chest. “You did good. A future doctor. Or is she already a?—”
“Don’t.”
“C’mon, Baby MacKenzie. I like you.” Closing the blade, I pocketed it. “You’re a fellow bookworm.” I snapped a quick pic of the photo of him and Future Doctor, then placed it on the nightstand. In a few taps, I pretended to send her image via a text. He’d read enough thrillers to predict my next move.
“Please … please leave my girlfriend out of this,” Jake begged.
The jarring ring of my cell phone filled the air, and his eyes widened in fear.
Da. This made the threat real.
I glanced at the screen and grinned. Father. He’d been ringing me for about an hour. I answered, muttered a few Russian words, and disconnected. I nodded. “They willcomfortthe doctor while we fix this.”
The color drained from Jake’s face, and his legs failed him. He landed on the edge of his bed, shoved quivering fingers through his dark blond hair. “Please leave us alone.”
“Nyet. You have that cute Scottish accent if I listen hard enough. Polish it up, I might be inclined to release her.” Igrabbed a hardback thriller. SS Robinson’s signature and a note were scrawled in a sharp felt pen mark. “Nice.”
Jake jutted his chin to the book. “Take the book. I-It’s yours.”
“I’ve finished the series. Let me explain my reason for this unpremeditated visit.” I crouched in front of him.
“I’m listening—” He muttered, “Delusional lass,” under his breath.
My fingertip reached over. He turned his face sharp. Fast. Fury written all over him. I touched the furrow of his thick brow anyway. I’d wanted to do that while watching him read another SS Robinson psych thriller at the park months ago.
“You called me delusional. I have a question for you, Baby MacKenzie.” I spoke slowly, allowing him to digest my every word. “WillIbe delusional ifyoumust bury everyone you love?”
38
NATASHA
My hands scrubbed my face.Never drank so much in my life. I bit back a tear. Was I blackout drunk … because of Vassilievich? The dam broke.
A deluge of tears overcame me as I lay in bed. His conversation echoed in my mind. His threat and nothing else.
“Natasha … baby …” Lachlan’s satiny smooth voice wrapped around me, warm and comforting.
I popped up in bed, clutching soft linens in my hands. “Sorry, I must’ve drunk a lot.” My urge to speak quickly and apologize vanished as I absorbed his attractive face. Then the surrounding area. A lot smaller than his usual bedroom.
Tiny windows lined either wall. The shades drew tight. “Those are … those are airplane windows, Lach.”
“Aye.” He stood, the top of the plane mere inches above his head.
“What’s going on?” I climbed from the bed, unsure if I should hug him or deal with morning breath. And the pain. My hands clutched my temples.
“Tash, you’re hurt?”
“A little.”A lot. Getting too drunk sounded embarrassing. “Okay,” I groaned. “I don’t know how much I drank last night. But why are we on this plane?” A gasp rushed through me, and I glanced at my left hand.
“We didn’t do a rushed Vegas wedding.” A chuckle escaped him, yet his turquoise eyes held no spark, and his mouth flattened. “Rory said you had one shot and sipped a daiquiri. A drugged daiquiri. It caused anterograde amnesia.”
My brows lifted.
“Last night at The Red Door.”
