“Technically, this is my bed.”Sloane starts slowly, feeling for the straps that stretch across my upper back. “Are you sensitive anywhere? Will I hurt you?”
“No. My shoulder is all good, so’s my back. The wall—big cement block monstrosity—only crushed my arm.” I unbuttoned my shirt before we lay down, and Sloane tugs it off me—mostly. The cufflinks were a bitch to fasten.
“Shit.”With one of her hands flat against my chest and the other on my back—wait, are those her knuckles? Yep. Digging in along my shoulder blade.
Oh, fuck. Her touch is better than any massage I ever got in physical therapy. Probably because she’s nottryingto drive me to the breaking point.
“You slept for two hours,” I say on a groan. “Marina’s back in her room, safe, and the SAS guy is due here in thirty.”
“Thank God. I’ll feel better when she has protection.”After a few seconds, she adds, “Your shoulder’s hard as a rock. This might hurt a little.”
Before I can tell her not to worry, that she I doubt she weighs more than a buck twenty, even at five-foot-six with perfectly balanced curves, she rises up on her knees and starts searching for my trigger points with her elbow. “Holy shit.” She freezes, and I hiss out a breath. “Don’t stop, sweetheart. I can take a little pain. Greater good and all that.”
“Griff…”
“I promise. I’m okay.” As she continues to work on my back, I fill her in on everything I learned.
“So this man—Pavel Andrei—you said? Is he still at the hotel?”
“Not that we can find. But I have a dozen photos of him from the cocktail party and the lobby security cameras the day you arrived. Before we goanywhere,you need to memorize them.”
“We could order room service.” Sloane stops with the magic fingers and scoots to the edge of the bed until she’s right next to me. “If it’s too dangerous to leave the hotel—”
“It’s not.”
“Don’t lie to me, Griff.”Her eyes narrow, and she studies me. “You promised.”
Scooting back, I take her hands. “I’m not lying. Not exactly. You’re in danger until we find any and all the men working for Volkov and figure out his end game. This is more than blackmail, Sloane. He’s doing whatever he can to keep you scared. Off balance. If we don’t sell this relationship—really sell it—he’s going to come after you again.”
Sloane yanks her hands away, shoving them into the pockets of the well-worn hoodie she put on after a full fifteen minutes in the bathroom removing the low-cut cashmere. “He’s going to come after me anyway. His operation was so much bigger than just the dozen girls at his Philly house. He ran houses all over the east coast. I don’t know where they were, and when I tried to tell Rodney about them, he refused to listen. All he cared about was keeping me to himself.”She shudders, and I try to touch her, but she slides off the bed and stands just out of reach. “When Max saved me, I couldn’t read or write English very well, though I could speak it. I had tutors, classes every day once I was clean, and after six months or so, I wrote down everything I could remember and sent a letter—no return address—to the District Attorney in Philadelphia. But even though I checked the news every day for months…there was nothing.”
My watch buzzes, and I take a quick glance at the screen. “Marina’s bodyguard is here. Once I vet him, we’re going out to dinner.” Sloane starts to protest, but I hold up my hand. “Dimitri’s not going to come after us in the middle of the city. You—we—need a little fun. Plus, this is a chance for you to prove you’re doing exactly what he wants. Keeping secrets from me.”
Chapter Twenty
Sloane
The hot former-SAS captain blocks the door, stopping Marina from leaving for theBeauty and Stylestaff party. “If anyone asks, we met at breakfast this morning and hit it off.”
“Oh, puh-leeze.” Marina rolls her eyes. “No one is going to believeweare hooking up.”
“We’re not.” Jacob—all six feet of him dressed in a dark blue suit—stares down at my best friend with an amused half-smile. “But with your former plus-one ‘hooking up’ with Griff, you were not keen on attending this party alone, and asked me to accompany you. We’re friends, nothing more.”
Marina huffs, and some of her anger fades. “Fine. But can we go now? The appetizers are always the best part, and you wouldn’t believe how much the gaffers eat.” Draping her evening bag over her shoulder, she turns to me. “Be careful, okay? I don’t like the idea of you leaving the hotel.”
Honestly? Neither do I. But Griff insists we need this—that I need this—and that we won’t be in any danger. “We’ll be fine. Go. Have fun.”
Jacob holds the door open for her, and Marina ducks by him, the ruffled skirt on her bright red dress brushing his thigh.
“I told her all those ruffles would be annoying,” I say. “But she fell in love with that dress the moment she saw it at Saks.”
“It’s…interesting.” Griff unlocks the hotel safe, and my stomach twists into knots as he withdraws a gun, a very lethal-looking knife, and a second mobile phone.
My palms go damp, and I rub them on my thighs. Since this isn’t an official event, I don’t have to wear anythingBeauty and Styleprovided. As soon as I put on anormalbra and paired a soft green sweater with flowing black pants and my Sketchers, I felt like me again.
Or, at least some version of me. After telling Griff about my past, I don’t have a clue who I am anymore. Or who I want to be.
Griff drops to one knee and pulls up the right leg of his jeans. The knife—all five inches of it in a black sheath—straps to his calf, and I can’t look away. “Do you really think you’ll need that?” I’m not proud of the tremble in my voice, but at least he can’t hear it.
