“Boneyard. And I still don’t know the half of it. He told me he had no family, but I just met his brother a little while ago! A big-shot politician. And their family is rich.”
“I thought you said Sevastyan was a street kid.”
“That’s what he led me to believe. You can imagine my shock. Jess, I didn’t even know his real name.”
“Holy shit, that’s serious. So to the cabin we go. I’ll make Jell-O shots for our trip, pick you up at the airport, and then we’re off. Quick question of no particular import: was the brother hot?”
“Jess!” I slowed, swiping my palm over my nape. The first night I’d met Sevastyan, I’d had a sense that I was being watched; I had that feeling again.
Wary, I surveyed the terminal—
Sevastyan! He was here, on the other side of the security checkpoint, charging through milling travelers.
God, even now I found him breathtaking to behold, with his powerful body and determined demeanor.
His intense golden eyes swept the area. Because he was hunting.
For me.
“Gotta go. F**ker’s here.” Click. How had he found me so quickly?
Our gazes met. Confusion flashed over his face. As if he truly had no idea why I’d left?
Too bad, Sevastyan, I am done.
I had to hope that he couldn’t get through the long line at security. What were the odds that he’d already bought a ticket—and lost his ever-present pistol?
His confusion was turning to fury. His body language said he would murder anyone who got between him and me. For me, his eyes were filled with warning. Don’t you dare run.
My expression told him, This dumbass can finally read neon signs. I gave him a pilot’s two-finger salute, then made my way toward my distant gate. They were boarding! If I could just get on the plane . . .
I was out of breath by the time I filed into the slow-moving line. “Excuse me,” I said to a group of sweet-looking elderly ladies in front of me, “do you mind if I skip ahead?”
They gave me bitch, please looks.
Out of the corner of my vision, I spied the crowd parting for a very tall black-haired man. Shit—he’d cleared security! My line snailed forward. . . .
Panicked, I scurried away from the gate down the terminal, knowing how this would go down. He’d catch me and I’d have to scream and fight.
And then he’d still never let me go.
When I had nowhere else to run, I spun around, squaring my shoulders.
His eyes were crazed as he stalked up to me. “Come.” He snatched my upper arm.
“Let—me—go.” I tried to wrench free of his viselike hold. “I’m not leaving with you.”
“Natalie, now.”
People were staring at us, whispering behind hands. Under my breath, I snapped, “Why can’t you just leave me alone? You’ve been doing it for weeks!” At least during the days.
“Fight me, and I go to jail. Because nothing short of that will keep me from you.”
Damn it! I’d seen his body language, promising pain to anyone who got between us. In the banya, he’d told me he’d do murder to possess me.
I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. And I didn’t want him to go to prison. Again.
“Interpol would love to take someone like me into custody.”