One of his men opens the door for me and Andrei’s hand is at my back, encouraging me forward. I climb in and he slides in beside me immediately, close enough that our arms brush.
The door shuts behind me and the car pulls away. Only then do I realize my teeth are chattering. I press my lips together, annoyed with myself. I’m terrified, but I don’t want Andrei to realize it. I’d like him, just for once, to think I’m brave or at least somewhat competent.
Of course, he notices the chattering right away. He’s so damn perceptive.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
I shake my head, my eyes burning unexpectedly. I blink back the tears, refusing to cry in front of him. It’s the one dignity I have left.
“It’s just a lot to handle,” I manage truthfully, not giving my feelings away too quickly.
His hand covers mine, warm and solid. It helps, but it’s not enough to stop the rolling in my stomach. Shit. I think I’m going to vomit.
“I know,” he says quietly. “You’re doing well though.”
I swallow hard, staring straight ahead as the city blurs past. My stomach twists again, sharper this time. Please, not now,I beg my body.Just hold it together for a little while longer.I focus on Andrei, desperate for a distraction from the pain in my gut.
“You said someone intercepted your man,” I say. “Is he still alive?”
Andrei’s face gets very serious, and I think for a second that he isn’t going to answer me.
“He’ll be fine,” he finally answers.
I nod, which only makes the nausea worse.
“I’m going to be sick,” I warn him suddenly, when it’s too late to stop the inevitable.
He eyes me warily and reaches for something in the pocket of the door. It’s a thick, black trash bag, and I shudder to think why he just keeps these stocked in his cars. The thought finally does me in, and I quickly open the bag so I can let out all the pain coiled up inside of me.
He has the good manners to look away, but it does little to lessen the embarrassment I’m feeling.
“Better?” he asks, and it sounds very much like he’s breathing through his mouth.
“Sorry,” I say, not answering his question. “Whenever I get scared, I get sick to my stomach. Rollercoasters, scary movies, even bad dreams. It’s so embarrassing. Shit, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he says, not looking at me. “This is a lot to process for anyone who isn’t used to it. Although, this does makes me realize why your father never told you what he really does.”
I can only nod, even though the logic doesn’t do anything to soothe the pain in my stomach. Andrei reaches forward to open a compartment and pulls out a small bottle of water. I open it weakly and take a small sip, begging my body to cooperate and calm down.
After a few minutes, the nausea finally subsides. I press a hand to my stomach and lean forward slightly, breathing carefully. Andrei shifts closer, his arm coming around my shoulders without asking. I let myself lean in to him, my forehead resting briefly against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur again. “I’m not trying to be more of an issue for you.”
“You aren’t an issue,” he says into my hair. “If anything, you’re the reason I’m still alive. I owe it to you to return the favor.”
I nod and nestle closer to him, feeling more stable with each breath. Before I know it, I’m drifting off to sleep, back to my nice dreams, hopefully. At some point, we must be close to our destination, because Andrei shakes me lightly again. We’re pulling in somewhere, but it’s so dark, I can’t make out anything outside. Who knows what kind of threats are waiting for us in the darkness? My pulse spikes again.
“We’re here,” Andrei says, gently shaking me.
The door opens and cool air rushes in. It feels good on my hot face, but I feel shaky. He helps me out, his hands steady on my arms as my legs wobble beneath me. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been holding myself together until now.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod, but the motion makes me nauseous again. “I think so,” I lie quickly.
We stop just for a moment as Andrei lets the driver know to dispose of the trash bag in back. I feel a wave of heat rush over me in embarrassment, but it doesn’t last long because another wave of nausea hits me hard. I let go of Andrei and fling myself toward the bushes, dry-heaving because there’s nothing left in my stomach.
“That’s all right,” Andrei says, gently rubbing my back. “Get it all out.”
