“Lost him.” I report, my voice flat, as Dimitri rushes to my side.
Dimitri curses but doesn’t question it. He’s already on his radio, barking orders.
“Lennox, where are you going?” he demands as I turn back.
“Who’s with the girl?” I say without stopping. “I was told not to leave her alone with anyone.”
A pause as he contemplates how much trouble he’d be in if anything happened to Emma. Then: “Go.”
Greed wins. It always does with these people.
The corridors stretch too long as I make my way back. Every corner hides potential threats. My bear is pacing, snarling, barely contained beneath my skin.
Mate. Unprotected. Move faster.
When I reach the lounge, Kozlov is emerging from behind his armchair, trying to reassemble his authority. His expensive suitis rumpled; his face still grey with fear. The great and powerful crime lord, reduced to cowering like a frightened animal.
“This is unacceptable,” he snarls, though his voice still carries a tremor. “How did they get inside? I want answers. I want heads.”
“They knew the layout.” I don’t look at him. My eyes are already scanning for Emma. “Went straight for the east wing. Inside job.”
“It has to have been that fucker. He’s obsessed.” Kozlov curses in Russian. “Someone find out who they were and bring them to me.”
Two men hurry from the room, looking clueless but eager to seem busy.
I don’t care about any of it. Emma is pulling herself up from behind the sofa, pale but unharmed, and the sight of her loosens something in my chest that had been wound painfully tight.
“Bodhi, go check on the Ashworths,” Kozlov orders behind me. “Get a car to drive them home. I need to salvage this deal.”
I don’t move. My eyes are fixed on Emma, cataloguing every inch of her.
“Lennox. I gave you an order.”
“I’m sure they’re fine.” My voice comes out rougher than intended but it’s hard to hide how much they repulse me.
“I don’t care if they’re fine; I care if they’re happy. That’s a quarter million walking out the door if we don’t turn this around.”
Something in my expression makes Kozlov take an involuntary step backward.
“There are other Ashworths.” My voice has dropped to something barely controlled. “There’s only one Emma. You can’t sell her if she’s dead or stolen.”
The words hang in the air between us. Kozlov’s pale eyes narrow, calculating, weighing my insubordination against logic.
“Should I get her locked down immediately?” I ask, softening my delivery, making it seem like his call, his idea. “Before anything else happens.”
Greed wins again.
“Yes,” he says finally, nodding. “Take her to her room. Lock her in and don’t leave her side until I say otherwise.” He’s already turning away, pulling out his phone. “And someone get me a full security report.”
I don’t wait, afraid he’ll change his mind. I cross to Emma in three long strides, and before she can protest, I’m bending down and scooping her into my arms, one arm under her knees, the other around her back, cradling her against my thumping chest.
Her hands fly to my shoulders, and beneath my palms, I feel her trembling.
“I can walk.” She manages.
“I know.” I don’t put her down.
14
