two things in that moment.
One, Dimitri was missing the pinkie finger on his left hand, making me wonder who he’d pissed off. And two, my hands involuntarily fisted when he leaned down and laid a longer than necessary kiss on her forehead. Lexi may not have been mine, but she sure as fuck wasn’t his, so he needed to keep his grimy hands off.
He eventually released her, allowing her to step back and once again take hold of her suitcase. As she walked toward me, his gaze lowered to her ass.
“Your boyfriend doesn’t look too happy,” I murmured loud enough for him to hear.
That drew Dimitri’s gaze up to mine. He scowled.
I smirked.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Lexi said through clenched teeth. “Just a good friend who’s worried about me flying off with some American arsehole. Can’t say I blame him.”
“Whoever said the Russians weren’t a charming people.”
She scoffed as she stomped past me and out the front door.
Looking back at Dimitri, I sarcastically tipped my invisible hat at the brigadier. He looked like he was barely restraining the urge to whip out his gun and pump me full of lead. With one final seething glare, he stormed from the room and disappeared.
My driver took the suitcases from me once I reached the black town car parked in the driveway. Of course, Lexi insisted on handing him the third suitcase herself, bypassing me with a ball-shrinking dirty look.
Then the strangest thing happened.
I actually wanted to…laugh at that.
Her indignant expression, her scrunched up nose, her pouty frown. Something about that stubborn attitude made the weight that had formed in my chest the second Sergei said the word “marriage” feel lighter somehow.
And yes, it made my dick twitch, too.
“Do we…?” Her words trailed off as she stood in front of the open car door, her back facing me. Conflict was etched in every tense muscle of her back. She was clearly debating something inside her head.
“Do we what?”
Squaring those tense shoulders, she whirled around to face me. “Do we have time to stop by the Red Gate Orphanage?”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Thinking of adopting a child now that we’re married?”
“As much as I loathe denying a child the opportunity to have such a brilliant role model like you as a father”—I swear to God, I almost smiled at that—“no. I know many of the children there, and I’d like to see them once more before I leave.”
I glanced back down at my watch. “Traffic is going to be a bitch this time of day, and we’re already running late as it is. Sorry, legs, but no go. You’ll see them when you get back, once this whole charade is over.”
I was stunned when her eyes got a little shiny just before she turned away. She acted genuinely hurt that we wouldn’t be stopping. What the hell is that about?
“Bugger.” Turning around again, she rushed back toward the house. “I forgot something. I’ll be right back.”
“If this is an attempt to run away or hide,” I called at her retreating back, “let me save you some time and tell you that I’ll find you no matter where you go. I was the hide and seek champion as a kid.”
She narrowed her eyes at me over her shoulder. “Hiding implies that you want to be found.”
“And you don’t?”
“Not by you.” Then she disappeared through the door.
A small chuckle did escape that time.
I had just pulled my phone out of my pocket to check my messages when the loud crack of gunfire erupted from inside the house, splintering the otherwise quiet afternoon.
And Lexi had just run right toward it.
“Shit!”
I yanked my .45 1911 from its holster and took off at a dead sprint.
My first instinct when I heard the shots ring out was to drop to the ground and cover my head, like I’d learned to do at a young age. But then I realized the sounds were coming from the floor below me. There weren’t bullets zinging past my head. Yet.
Still, I probably shouldn’t loiter about.
The phone charger I’d come back inside for definitely wasn’t worth losing my life over.
I was halfway down the second-floor hallway when the shooting started. I immediately switched directions and ran back for the main stairwell, retracing my steps. These hallways were like those in a museum—ridiculously long and wide enough for a city bus to fit inside. The gunfire got louder and louder the closer I moved to the foyer, intensifying the pounding of my heart.
Who was shooting? And