Three seconds of pitch black. Four. Five.
Maksim cranks the wheel. Inertia slams me against the door. Clara’s shoulder digs into my ribs as she steadies the gun.
Light explodes behind us—headlights from Ludis’s convoy hitting the tunnel. Clara’s finger tightens on the trigger.
“Wait,” I mutter.
The first SUV roars past our hiding spot. Then, the second.
Clara exhales. Squeezes.
The third SUV’s back tire explodes. It fishtails, taking out the fourth car. Metal screams against concrete. The tunnel fills with smoke and chaos.
“Blyat.” I can’t keep the appreciation out of my voice.
“Your Russian sounds better when you’re impressed.” She drops the gun in my lap, barrel still warm. “Now, get us out of here before your brother figures out where we are. I have a kid to get back to.”
“You just shot up half a million dollars’ worth of cars.”
“Bill me.” She slumps back in her seat. “Though technically, I just saved your life. So maybe we call it even?”
I shouldn’t find this attractive. This woman has tried to kill me. She’s probably planning attempt number two right now.
But watching her handle that gun… There’s something wild in her, and fuck me, I like it.
“Mitch and Elijah,” she says suddenly. “That’s the only reason I didn’t put that bullet in your skull instead.” She gives me a sexy side glance. “Remember that.”
I catch her wrist before she can pull away. “I don’t expect anything less from you,malishka.”
Blyat. The way she threatens to kill me shouldn’t make my cock this hard.
21
Clara
What the fuck is up with today?
All I want is to see Mitch. But instead, I’ve gone Chanel shopping, endured a car chase that would put “Fast & Furious” to shame, and almost got blasted off a bridge.
The Rolls-Royce crawls through its fifth loop around empty streets. My bare feet are propped on scattered shopping bags, designer dresses spilling out between Chanel boxes. One lonely stiletto peeks out from under silk and lace. The other’s probably decorating some highway by now.
“Is Mitch actually here, or are we just enjoying the scenic route?”
Maksim catches my eye in the rearview. “What? You don’t trust us?”
“I don’t trust anyone who needs three hours to park a car.”
He chuckles.
Asshole.
The Rolls finally stops in front of a building that’s seen better days. Probably around the time dinosaurs roamed the earth. A flickering “ByteCare IT Solutions” sign hangs crooked above boarded windows.
Perfect place to hide a secret medical facility. Nobody would look twice at this dump.
Empty lots stretch on both sides. Across the street, a coffee shop that hasn’t seen a customer since 1985 sits next to a bookstore with newspapers from last month still in the window.
“Ditch the car.” Leonid scans the empty street before reaching for his door. “And get these back to the house.” He kicks at a cascade of silk and lace that’s threatening to spill out.
