I bite back a smile. “That was unnecessary.”
“He wasn’t looking at your report.”
“Neither were you.”
His gaze slides to me, slow and deliberate. “I don’t need to.”
The rest of the day drags and flies all at once. By afternoon, we’re in one of the company SUVs heading north. Rain threatens on the horizon, the kind that turns dirt roads to rivers. The route twists through a pine forest, and then the signal on my phone vanishes.
“Where exactly are we going?” I ask, gripping the handle as we hit a rut.
“Inspection.”
“Of what?”
“A cabin.”
“Another one of your secret lairs?”
He cuts me a look. “Storage facility.”
“Right. For antique muskets and priceless art that just happen to move across borders.”
He doesn’t answer. Which I’ve learned, meansyes.
When we finally stop, the world has gone gray with mist. The cabin crouches at the edge of the trees, old timber darkened by rain. Thunder grumbles somewhere beyond the ridge.
“Stay close,” he says, stepping out first.
The air smells of pine sap and an approaching storm. I follow, trying not to slip on the wet ground. A shiver goes down my spine at the feel of the cool, damp air. Inside, the cabin is cleaner than I expected—a wood-burning stove, rough-hewn table, a generator humming quietly in the corner.
Mak lights the stove, checks a few crates stacked against the far wall, then straightens. “You’ll wait here while I check the perimeter.”
Lightning cracks so close it rattles the windows. I jump. “You’re going out in that?”
“Yes.”
“Are you insane?”
He glances at me over his shoulder, rain already needling the doorway. “I’ve been called worse.”
The door slams behind him before I can reply.
I pace for maybe two minutes before another thunderclap shakes the roof.
Enough. I throw on my coat and step outside.
He’s at the edge of the clearing, head tilted toward the tree line, rain slicking his hair back. The sight is almost otherworldly—silver light, dark coat, the suggestion of muscle under soaked fabric.
“Mr. Medvedev!”
He turns, brows lowering. “I told you to stay inside.”
“There’s lightning! Get back in the cabin before you turn yourself into a human lightning rod!”
His mouth hardens. “Go inside, Roxanne.”
“No.”
