It was true the moment I laid eyes on her.
I open my mouth. The words are almost out.
Then my mistake slams into me with brutal force. A deadly slip-up that has my hand twitching for my gun … holstered under my suit jacket. Ready to start shooting at a moment’s notice.
Nikolai Dubrov has men everywhere. I should know. Iwasone up until recently.
Oleg swaggers over to the table. A tall man with a flat face and a twice-broken nose.
“Alexei,” he says with fake warmth in his voice. His beady eyes scan me then flit to Rose.
If they linger for longer than a second, I’ll snap his neck.
I don’t care if he probably has backup in Echelon. Bratva men tend not to go anywhere alone. At least, most do. Braver in gangs. I was never like that.
He offers me his hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you. How long has it been? A month?”
I stare at his hand. Don’t take it. “You’re interrupting, Oleg.”
He stuffs his hands in his pockets. Smirks at me like he’s trying to make me afraid of what he might pull out. Gun or knife, doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.
I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands if he even thinks about hurting Rose.
She’s got her hands wrapped over her middle. She’s a smart girl, can sense the atmosphere. Can sense my dis-ease or the sudden taste of near violence in the air.
“I feared something may have happened to you,” Oleg says.
“People have been trying for years. So far—no luck.”
“So far,” Oleg repeats. “I shall leave you and your lovely lady to your meal.”
I watch him go. Work my jaw.
Then leap to my feet and take Rose’s hand.
“Where are we going?” she demands.
“Away from here.”
She tries to yank her hand away. I spin on her, ignoring the glares from the nearby tables.
“If we don’t leave, somebody might try to hurt you. I’ll turn this place into a bloodbath before I let that happen.”
She looks at me as though I’m a stranger.
Stupid thought, because that’s what I am. Technically.
Finally, she lets me lead her out the back entrance. I climb into my car and start taking a nonsensical route back to the suburbs. Lefts and right that have no rhyme or reason, constantly checking the rearview. Making sure we’re not being followed.
Rose says nothing. Hugs herself tightly like she expects no comfort from me—like she doesn’t want the likes of me touching her.
When we get home, I quickly drive into the garage.
No tail.
Nobody knows where Rose lives.
“We’re going inside,” she snaps, climbing from the car and slamming the door. “And you’re going to give me some answers. No more games.”
