A new life, without the FBI, was terrifying.
But a life without Gennadiy was unimaginable.
I sniffed, blinked back tears, and shook my head. “I don’t need a week,” I told Halifax. “I resign.”
One Month Later
Gennadiy
“So this is your favorite place?” asked Alison. She was blinking, her eyes still adjusting to the gloom after the bright sun outside.
“My favorite place,” I confirmed. Not long ago, I wouldn’t have even considered telling someone that, or even admitting to having a favorite place. A lot had changed. I squeezed her hand and led her forward, through shafts of sunlight that lanced down into the dark space like lasers, revealing dust motes that danced and swirled as we breathed.
I took Alison’s hand and guided it. She suddenly yelped as her palm brushed a warm, velvety nose.
“Heaven’s Tears,” I told her. “But we call him Cloud.”
As our eyes adjusted to the dark, we could make out a beautiful gray stallion with cream patches. Alison gasped as the horse snorted against her palm and then lowered his head for scratches.
“He likes you,” I told her.
“He’s amazing,” whispered Alison.
“He’s the second most beautiful thing here,” I murmured, running my eyes over her. The jodhpurs showed off every graceful curve of her long legs, and the tight white blouse made those high little breasts absolutely mouthwatering. With her black hair swishing in its ponytail and her ass bouncing up and down in the saddle, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to take my eyes off her all day.
“Even standing still, he looks fast,” said Alison.
“He was a racehorse,” I said. “Until a guy called Spartak burnedour old stables down. Cloud survived, but…”–I showed Alison the burn scars– “He’ll never race again.”
Alison nodded sadly, running her hand over the horse’s back. I could feel them bonding.
“He still loves to run, though,” I said. “Don’t worry, we’ll start you off on someone slower. Let me show you how to put a saddle on.”
By the end of the day, we were sore and laughing and pleasantly exhausted. As the sun set, we walked back towards the car, where Valentin was waiting to drive us back to the city. I was still waiting for my new car to arrive, so I’d asked him to give us a ride. I could have just hired a car, but—my chest went tight—I’d wanted him here for a reason.
Alison saw my expression and gently slipped her hand out of mine. “Why don’t you go on ahead?” she said. “I’m going to go back to the stables and see the horses. Take as long as you need.”
I nodded silently. She understood. She always did. I sucked in a breath and looked around. Valentin and I were all alone, with fields all around and no one to hear us. It would never get any easier than this.
I blew out my breath and started walking towards the car. The guilt and self-hate that had been festering for decades bubbled up inside me, dark and toxic. Twice, I nearly veered off and headed for the stables instead. But I had to do this. Because if I felt this way, how didhefeel?
Valentin looked up as I approached and frowned at my expression. “Brother?”
I swallowed and put a hand on his shoulder. “We need to talk,” I rasped.
There was some woodland near the stables, and we wandered deep into it. The sunset made the trees throw out long, black shadows, and the darkness made it easier, somehow.
I started in halting, awkward little rushes of words, scowling at the ground as I talked. I could feel the familiar weight of everything I was—Aristov, Russian, a man—trying to silence me.We don’t do this. We don’t talk about these things.
But I could see Valentin throwing quick little glances at me that looked almost hopeful. That pushed me on…and the more I spoke, the more I felt like I was wriggling free from under all that tradition. It hadn’t been protecting me; it had been trapping me.
“I never meant for it to happen,” I told Valentin. “If I could go back and bow and scrape to that bastard Svetoslav, so he didn’t rape you, I would. In a heartbeat.”
“I know that.” Valentin grabbed my arm. “Gennadiy, I don’t blame you. I never did. But–” He looked at me, his eyes full of pain, and his voice hitched. “Afterwards…”
“We never talked about it,” I said guiltily.
“I—” Valentin looked away. “I thought–”
