I should tell him to stop. That this is inappropriate, that I'm only here to find my sister, that I don't have time for whatever this is building between us. But I don't. Because if I'd met him anywhere else, at a bar, at a party, in the normal world where men don't kill people in alleys and women don't get trafficked, I would've been interested.
Very interested.
He's gorgeous in a brutal sort of way. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw covered in dark stubble, those intense eyes that seem to see straight through me. His body is all lean muscle and controlled violence, the kind that makes you think of predators and dark desires.
And the way he looks at me...
Like I'm already his. Like it's inevitable. Like he's just waiting for me to accept what he already knows.
"You're staring," he says, amusement in his voice.
"Just thinking of what could have been, had we met under different circumstances." I tear my eyes from his profile, the slope of his neck disappearing beneath the collar of his black shirt.
"Circumstances are irrelevant," he says. "We would have always met."
His words take me by surprise. Or maybe it’s the tone or the confidence behind the statement. Whatever it is, it shifts something inside me.
"I think we were supposed to meet like this, that way you know who I am, and what I’m capable of straight away." He signals and turns onto a road that isn’t as well-lit as the previous one.
"I suppose," I admit quietly. "Which probably says something terrible about me."
"Or something honest." He takes another turn, heading deeper into an industrial complex. "The world isn't black and white, Laney. Good and evil aren't as clear as people want to believe. Sometimes monsters are necessary. Sometimes they're the only thing standing between innocent people and even worse monsters."
"Is that what you are?A necessary monster?"
A smile flickers over his face before it turns into something more calculated. "Yes."
"And my sister? The other girls? Are they just collateral damage in your war with the Albanians?"
His hands tighten on the wheel. "No. This isn’t my war with anyone. The Albanians came to this city uninvited and tried to start a business that my family will not tolerate. The women they took, they’re victims, and I will get them back."
"Why?" I press. "Why do you care? They're just cocktail waitresses. Just random girls who work in your casino."
"Because they were taken without our permission, and against their will," he says, steel in his voice. "They work in my family's casino. They walk in my territory. They live in my city. That makes them mine to protect. And when someone takes what's mine..." He trails off, but I can fill in the rest.
When someone takes what's his, he hunts them down and puts bullets in their heads.
"You really mean that," I say, surprised. "You actually feel responsible for them."
"I am responsible for them." He glances at me. "Just like I'm responsible for you."
"I didn't ask for your protection," I counter, frowning a little.
He huffs a sound that’s somewhere between lack of amusement and resignation. "You still needed it though, didn’t you?"
We drive for another few minutes. The buildings get further apart. The outskirts of town bleed into desert, civilization giving way to emptiness.
"Tell me about your sister," Yakov says.
"Why?"
"Because I need to know who I'm looking for. What makes her different from the others. What might keep her alive longer."
It's pragmatic. Clinical. But I understand what he's really asking:Give me something to work with. Give me an edge.
"She's... she's sunshine," I say finally. "I know that sounds stupid, but it's true. She lights up every room she walks into. Makes friends everywhere. Talks to strangers like they're old friends." I smile despite myself. "I'm the serious one. The planner. The one who reads all the fine print and makes backup plans. Laurie just... dives in. Trusts people. Believes the best of everyone."
"That would make her easy to take."
