As an Alpha, he could flip our interaction on its ass in seconds, and the way I am being insistent and assertive could easily be viewed as a challenge. I can see how hard he’s fighting against his natural urges, and I appreciate it, but we’re not getting any resolution.
Kade reaches across the table, no doubt acting on his own needs to comfort my growing distress, but I stop him before he touches me.
“Kade, please don’t.”
“We’re here to help you escape, Quinny,” he says softly but firmly. He’s got a better hold of his emotions than we do. “You being in Russia doesn’t make sense. And Santiago clearly was as confused about the situation as I was. He approached me, and we left the same day.”
I focus on him, but I also make a point of looking at Santiago before I reply to his comment. “There’s nothing to escape, Kade. I’m getting married, and that’s not changing anytime soon.”
I brace for an argument, and surprisingly, it doesn’t come. Santiago clears his throat, making a concerted effort to use the same hushed tones as Kade and me. “Then, we’re here as your guards.”
“But how? Why?” I growl, losing the fight of keeping calm. I’m so damn frustrated that they’re skirting around answering my question.
Santiago’s designation burns in his eyes; his voice drops octaves, but he still doesn’t raise his voice. “My path to you started out in front of your building. I didn’t know who you were, but I recognized one of the ambassador’s men. I had no idea what was going on, but I followed. I was drawn by more than just looking for answers, Quinn. And then I met you and knew and felt things changing. Kade busted up our love fest, and in doing so, he completely fucked up my plans of explaining to you that wherever you go, I will follow.”
My heart pounds so hard against my chest, I know they can probably both hear it.
“And then you were gone. There’s no way I could have let us end how we did. No way at all. I was already formulating, planning, and figuring out what I needed to do next to find you and hope you were feeling the same as me. I need you to know that. I was already coming.”
He takes a small breath, centering his swelling emotions. And when he looks at me again, his storm of resolve has beentemporarily tamed, his scent tucked back in. Which is a message that, while we’re all slaves to our designation, we all have the power inside too. Seeing Santiago so open and raw, like he is being, helps. A lot. But he is not finished speaking.
“I saw you leave, and my path was set. I turned, and Kade was there, but the situation with Kade was dealt with quickly. What wasn’t easy was figuring out why Victor Hernandez’s men were at your apartment, then shadowing you until you were safely tucked away at the airport. It made no sense, and it still doesn’t.
“But see, that’s a little irrelevant too—the reason, I mean. I just needed to make sure you were safe from him because I’ve had dealings with Victor. In my line of business, you end up meeting a lot of people. Some good, a lot of them not bad people but not good either. I’d put Victor in the hard-to-classify category. I don’t trust him, despite the way he conducts himself and the role he plays for everyone watching.
“So, I decided to come as fast as I could. I needed to see you were okay, that you were as safe as I could make you. One lucky break happened very quickly. I tracked down the guards who were coming here to ‘look after you.’ I took them out of the equation and put myself into it by stealing their identities, and their role as your guards gave me a solid cover, but I needed someone to help. Someone who I figured would go to the ends of the earth without question if he had to.”
He looks at Kade. There’s no guilt on his face, but there’s not much warmth, either. “I broke into Kade’s apartment, held a gun against his head, and gave him the opportunity to come because I saw you together. I heard everything he said to you and knew he was my ‘in’ if you refused to see me. I figured I’d use him to get near you before riding off into the sunset with you and leaving him behind.”
The truth. He shares the truth without any pauses or overdone dramatics, and I feel infinitely better hearing him finally explaining his reasoning, even if he sounds fucking crazy.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say quietly before holding his hope-filled gaze. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here in Russia.”
He shrugs, and a small but fucking epic smile plays on his lips. “Then we’re staying here too.”
I thought he wasn’t being dramatic, but here he is blowing my mind with a look but being so damn casual, like we’re talking about buying a different flavor of cookies at the store.
I don’t know what to say. And I suspect they both realize I need a minute or two to take in what he said. Neither rushes to fill in the quiet, letting me run over everything they said and figure out how I feel. I sense that they both want to keep talking and sharing and discussing, but they don’t push it. I’m sure they can see I’ve got more questions than answers; some are things I need to sort out by myself, and others do probably involve them, but through it all, they wait for me to be the one to speak again.
“Why are you here, Kade?” I ask softly, plucking dog hair off my leggings as a way of avoiding getting lost in his eyes.
“You’re my friend, Quinny.”
I huff a small laugh under my breath at the way he throws my words back at me. But there’s no malice in the tone he uses, because there’s no malice in Kade.
“I’m not here in a professional capacity. I can stay for as long as you need, so you have someone you trust near you.”
I tip my head, not looking at him but making it easy for him to see my expression. “You get we’re currently in Sergey Petrov’s house, right? He is Russian Bratva. How do I know I can trust you?” I stop avoiding looking at him.
“I don’t care about Petrov; I care about you. Your question about trust? That’s a hard one, and I’m not sure if anything I saywould help. Only you can decide if you trust me. I want you to, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not pushing you, because I know I really, truly, terribly screwed up. I hurt you when I lied. I’m sorry I lied, Quinny. I promise I’m only here as your friend.”
I can see everything he’s not saying, but I can see he’s listening, too, and in a way, he’s telling me what I want to hear. For now, at least, because there’s also a determination in his eyes that wasn’t there before. We’re not friends—we have never been just friends—but if that’s how we both label the deep-seated bond we share, then perhaps it's okay, given the circumstances.
The same could be said about the connection I have with Santiago. We’re not strangers, and despite not knowing anything about him, I feel like I know enough.
I stand up and put the kettle on, needing to keep busy while I work through their suggestion that we twist our relationships and fake being acquaintances only. “Coffee?”
Of course, they both take their coffee the same way I do. Can the universe make it any more obvious? All these signs, one after the other too; I’m relaxed around them; I feel real happiness inside a part of me that I’ve hidden from the world; I’m comforted by them simply being nearby. Even right down to the stupid things like coffee, and how they both eat their vegetables first and meat last, exactly like I do, only continues to stack up the things we share because we’re each other’s complementing half.
