“Like you care,” I scoff, trying to yank my wrist free, but he refuses to release me. I sigh, ignoring the pathetic way my heart races at his touch. “You need to drop this routine, Roan. It’s over. Done. I know the truth now, so we can’t just go back to the way things were—pretending you care about me when we both know you don’t.”
His brows pull together, and my heart squeezes traitorously at what looks like hurt flickering in his gaze. “But I do care about you.”
I shake my head slowly, suddenly exhausted by it all. “Can we do this later, please? I can’t think about you or—or this—” I wave my free hand helplessly between us. “—right now. My sister has to be my priority.”
“Of course.” He releases me at once and moves back. His gaze flicks to the front door where Dhimitër and a few of his men are heading down the front steps, and he lifts a hand, signaling them to hurry up.
I turn away from him, facing the nondescript, worn-lookingsedan that’s supposed to take me to Kayla. Roan fades from my mind as my heart starts to pound, anxious anticipation building at the thought of seeing my sister again after twelve long years.
Twelve years of search. Of hoping. Of failing.
I fidget restlessly next to the car, toying with the door handle, fighting the urge to just yank it open and demand we leave immediately and?—
“Katina…”
My heart pounds for an entirely different reason now, and thoughts of Roan come rushing back unbidden—his touch, his smile, the way he says my name like it means something. I told him not to call me that, damn him. I clench my hands into fists as I turn to face him.
“Dhimitër, Logan, Vance, Mason, and Kyle will be going with you.” He gestures to each man as he mentions their names, and I frown as I take in the tall, muscular men.
“We agreed I’d need to go alone to make my cover story believable,” I point out, running a hand down my nun’s habit. “What nun travels with bodyguards?”
“They won’t be your bodyguards,” he counters with a small, proud smile. “Meet your priest and fellow monks travelling with you.”
I look at them again with new eyes. Dhimitër is the priest, and the other guys he appointed as monks have their hair cropped short to their scalps. I suppose they could pass for monks if you don’t look too closely.
I purse my lips skeptically as I study them all.
“Theyaregoing with you, Katina. Or you’re not going at all. Under no circumstances am I letting you go to that abbey alone.”
My heart slams into my throat, and for just a moment, I can almost fool myself that he really is worried about me. That maybe he even cares about me, even just a little. Maybe, likeme, he fell in love despite his best efforts not to—because I love the fucker, damn it.
I tear my gaze from his quickly, terrified he’ll somehow read the confession written across my face. “It’s just an abbey full of clergy,” I argue weakly. “They stand no chance against me.”
Roan’s familiar scent suddenly surrounds me, and I glance back to find him impossibly close. My pulse roars in my ears as he grips my chin with surprising gentleness between his thumb and index finger. “I’m not going to risk it, Katina. I’m not going to riskyou. Because when we both get back safely, we’re going to talk. Really talk.”
Before I can respond, he leans down and gives me a hard, quick kiss that’s over almost as soon as it started. I lick my tingling lips as he pulls back, and when his eyes darken, my pussy clenches instantly. Because fuck, I recognize that look now. Know exactly what it promises, and what usually follows.
He opens the back door of the sedan. “Good luck out there, baby.”
“You too—be careful,” I murmur as I slip into the car, purposely brushing my body against his in the process. I don’t miss his sharp inhale, the way his body goes rigid at the contact. It makes me feel a little better. That maybe not everything was fake. At least his desire for me was real, even if nothing else was.
He smirks at me. “Always careful.”
Dhimitër settles into the passenger seat with obvious reluctance, and one of the men—Vance, I think—slides behind the wheel. The the other three men pile into a second sedan that will follow behind us.
Before I can stop myself, I wave at Roan as the car pulls away, and he waves back, lips curved in a small smile.
This is it.
I’m getting my sister back.
We make a quick stop at a religious supply store before we leave Manhattan and pick up appropriate clothes for the guys along with various religious items like Bibles, incense, rosaries, and other liturgical objects to sell our cover story.
“Well, you don’t look like any priest I’ve ever seen, Father,” I chuckle when Dhimitër returns to the car in his full cassock.
The glare he tosses me says he’s not at all amused. “And you’ve seen a lot of priests then?”
I raise my hands in mock surrender, because I have, in fact, not seen that many priests. Maybe one or two.
