“Ya govorila tebe ne dyshat’ yey v zatylok, mudak,” she mutters. My brain translates:I told you not to breathe down her neck, asshole.
The man behind gives an apologetic gesture.
Russians.
To hell with this!
My frustration boils over, sweat beading on my forehead.
This woman, she carries herself like ice. Cold. Calculating. Her heels click on the pavement as she takes a step closer, then another. My grip tightens on the blade, but she doesn’t even glance at it. Her eyes lock with mine, unblinking. Predator studying prey.
I take an involuntary step back. My spine hits brick. Trapped.
“Back the fuck off,” I snarl. Voice cracks.Goddammit.
She cocks her head, a slight smirk playing on her lips. Another step closer. I can smell her perfume now. Something expensive. Exotic.
My hand’s shaking. Blade’s useless between us. But those eyes… they freeze me solid. Like I’ve seen ‘em before. Where? When?
Brain’s scrambling. Coming up empty. Fuck.
A cold smile spreads across her face. I lunge, trying to slice her, but she’s too fast. In a blur of motion, she twists my wrist. The blade’s suddenly in her hand.
My jaw drops. What the actual fuck?
My body coils, ready to spring. To claw. To bite. Anything. But then she just… stands there. Calm as a fucking statue. One eyebrow raised like I’m some mildly interesting insect.
“Enough,” she snaps.
I blink. Squint at her face.
“The fuck you want?” I spit, finally releasing the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“We’re not here to harm you, Ms. Davis,” she says slowly, her voice as cold as her eyes.
I squint, demanding my brain to remember. Nothing.
She folds the knife back slowly, then holds it out to me. “Sir Dimitri asked us to ensure your safety,” she says calmly.
“D?” The name slips out before I can stop it.
“Yes, and please, do let us do our work.” She raises an eyebrow, challenging me to argue.
Anger flares in my chest. “No. Fuck no. You can tellSir Dimitrito shove his protection up his ass. I don’t need it, and I sure as hell don’t want it. The more I’m involved with you people, the more shit rains down on me. So leave. Now.”
My chest heaves, fists clenched at my sides. I’m done with this. Done with D, done with Russians, done with all of it.
The woman opens her mouth to reply, but a low voice cuts through the night air. A voice I know all too well.
“That’s not an option, Wren.”
I see red. I turn slowly, already knowing what I’ll see.
37
Dimitri
“You!”
