He marches out of the forest and climbs the stairs to the chalet with ease, his breaths even. I feel small against his hard chest and that’s not an easy feat. His collected demeanour hides something sharp and demanding, and I want to unravel every thread.
When he pushes the entrance door open, he makes it two steps into the chalet. Mina comes rushing out of the kitchen. The barrel of a gun greets us.
“Drop her,” Mina threatens. Her whole body is tensed and ready to snap, finger over the trigger. My friend’s warmbrown eyes have taken on a cold edge I don’t recognise, fierce protectiveness shining through her stillness. If I weren’t so horny, I’d swoon at my friend’s protective instincts.
A mafia queen in her own right, trying to escape her fate just like I am.
Toma sighs like she’s an inconvenience. I wiggle to step in front of him but he doesn’t let me.
“It’s okay, Mina. This is Toma.”
Her jaw clenches and she doesn’t make a move to drop her weapon. Tension simmers between Toma and Mina.
“She’s hurt. I’m taking care of her.”
“And how did Lucie hurt herself,Toma?” she asks, his name sounding like an insult. Her accent is heavier with her anger and I have half a mind to hug her now.
“I tripped. It’s nothing. I promise. Can you please drop the gun? I… I know him.”
After what feels like hours, she lowers her arms but doesn’t engage the safety. Her gaze turns to me, filled with concern. “I’m fine,” I mouth, and she nods.
Mina remains silent, their exchange a fight of wills. Straightening up, she looks the massive beast of a man still holding me in his arms up and down, sneering like she finds him lacking. I have to pinch my lips together not to smile.
“How did you know we were here?”
“Look me up, Mina. The full name’s Toma Kovac. You’ll find all you need to know,” Toma answers cryptically.
My friend catches his meaning because she picks up the phone she had abandoned on the coffee table in front of the hearth, and dials someone, simply saying his name.
Toma doesn’t wait for whoever is on the other side of the line to clear him, he picks me up again and strides with purpose towards the bedroom I chose for myself.
“How do you know this is where I’ll sleep?”
“Your smell.”
The primal part of my brain preens at that.
When we enter the room, Toma deposits me on a love seat and goes back out, probably to get some ice for my ankle.
A little bark has me jumping off the seat and wincing at the pain. I drop back down and look for the source of that strange noise. I can’t believe my eyes.
How is a tiny Chihuahua standing on my bed?
My jaw drops. I can’t resist standing again, and hopping on one leg towards the bed. “Who are you?”
The little dog’s tail swishes side to side and it comes to me willingly, sniffing my hands and licking them. I laugh, turning sideways when Toma enters the room again.
“What are you doing up?” he asks roughly. “You need to sit down and let me care for you.”
I ignore him. There’s the more pressing matter of the dog on my bed. “Who’s this?”
“That’s Biscuit.”
Like that’s answer enough. I know for certain he doesn’t have a dog.
With efficient movements, he removes my shoes then lifts me up again and arranges me on the bed, against the headboard.
“Where does he come from?”
