“My brothers are legitimate businessmen,” I say automatically, even if neither of us believes it.
Tony laughs. “Sure, they are. And I’m just a humble journalist with no weapons training who got lucky tonight.”
“Why were you at the gallery?”
“I told you. Following a lead about?—”
“About what? And don’t give me vague answers. You knew something was going to happen.”
“I had suspicions.” He glances toward the mouth of the alley, where blue lights now flash against the buildings. “There’s been chatter about a crew targeting high-value acquisitions. When I heard Andrin was unveiling something significant tonight, I thought it might be worth checking out.”
“Chatter from where?”
“Sources.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.” He steps in, and suddenly we’re standing too close. “You should go home, Ms. Kozlov. This isn’t something you want to be involved in.”
I lift my chin and square my shoulders. “I’m already involved. They shot at me.”
“They shot at everyone. You’re not special.” But his eyes say otherwise, and I realize he knows who I am and why my presence at that gallery might be significant to certain people.
He steps back then, putting some space between us, and I try to tell myself the distance doesn’t feel like a loss. “Go home, Sasha. Tell your brothers what happened. Let them handle it.”
The way he says my first name so familiarly should annoy me. Instead, it sends a spark through my stomach.
He turns and walks toward the alley entrance, moving with the same grace that set off alarm bells in my head. “Maybe next time you’re authenticating Imperial treasures, do it somewhere with better security.”
“Next time?” I call after him. “You think there’ll be a next time?”
He looks back over his shoulder, and the streetlights catch his face at an angle that makes him look dangerous and handsome all at once. “With your family? Always.”
Then he’s gone, disappearing into the Moscow night like a ghost.
I stand alone in the alley, my heart still pounding, my dress ruined, and my mind racing with questions I can’t answer. Tony Haugh is hiding something. And somehow, whatever he’s investigating involves my family.
This was supposed to be a simple consultation job. Authenticate an egg, collect my fee, and maybe network with some of Moscow’s collectors.
Instead, I got shot at and saved by a man who fights like a mercenary but claims to be a journalist. Who knows too much about my family and not enough about keeping his cover story straight.
My brothers have spent years protecting me from this world. Maybe it’s time I stopped letting them.
2
Tony
I should’ve let her take the bullet.
That’s the thought running through my head as I unlock my hotel room door and step inside.
I should’ve used the same cold logic that kept me alive through three tours in the Middle East and two years of black ops work the CIA won’t admit exists.
Except I didn’t.
I covered her body with mine and felt her perfect ass pressed against my dick while bullets tore through the gallery around us.
I toss my jacket on the bed and pour three fingers of vodka from the bottle on the desk. The burn down my throat doesn’t touch the memory of Sasha Kozlov underneath me or the way her green eyes went wide as saucers when she realized I wasn’t what I claimed to be.
