well as several loud voices.
“Okay. I’m back. Are you all right?”
“We’re fine, although we had a close call. We’re keeping this short. Any activity out of the ordinary?”
I’d known Travis for long enough to know when something was wrong.
“You’re not going to like this. I waited to call you to see what the fuck these assholes were going to do, but…”
“Spill it, Travis.”
“They figured out about the girl. I don’t know how, but they made an appearance at the diner last night. From what I could tell, they didn’t cause any issues, but they certainly weren’t locals, if you know what I mean.”
Likely the same men from the diner a few nights before. “Anything else?”
“I had a bad feeling and found out where Chloe lived. The place was tossed. I don’t know if they found what they were looking for, but they made enough of a mess.”
“Shit.”
“What else can I do?”
“Nothing. Stay out of it and keep to yourself.”
“All right. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Me too.” I ended the call and hissed as I tossed the phone onto the table. When I inhaled, the delicious scent of her filled my nostrils making me ache inside. I slammed the glass on the table, rising to my feet and grabbing my weapon, my instinct telling me to check on her. She’d left the door open a crack. I pushed it open with a single finger. She’d left a light on beside her bed. As I approached, I could see she was curled in a fetal position, the covers over her head.
My attention was drawn to a pad and pen on the nightstand. I hadn’t paid any attention to her purchases nor had I cared. The choice seemed out of place. Was she taking notes in order to turn me into the authorities? Fuck. I was furious with myself for even thinking that way. After darting another glance, I lifted the pad into my hand.
What was written couldn’t have surprised me any more.
A poem.
The beautiful and very striking words were heartfelt. The subject? Well, that gave me chills.
Courage.
She’d written words about a courageous man, the style reminding me of a goddamn fairytale, the very last one my mother had read to me before she’d disappeared. It was the last line that disturbed me the most.
And it had been written in Russian.
Chelovek pryachetsya za stal’noy maskoy
A man hiding behind a mask of steel.
I’d vowed that I was never going to get close to anyone, refusing to allow any additional pain into my heart. But it was impossible to break something that had already been destroyed.
The hard stab in my chest wasn’t just painful. It was crushing. I could easily break her into a thousand shattered pieces, stealing what was left of her innocence. I couldn’t allow that to happen. She was far too precious.
This was a ticking timebomb. It was likely I’d need to return to Moscow.
And it was even likelier that I’d never be allowed to return.
Chapter 10
Chloe
There was nothing as beautiful as waking up beside the man you adore. The few moments of cuddling, tender kissing. Spooning together. Allowing the electricity of the night before to become rekindled, the needs ever greater. Even taking a shower together, water trickling over both our exhausted and sated bodies. Then maybe an incredible breakfast complete with strawberries and champagne before a lovely day spent together doing anything and nothing.
That was a beautiful fantasy.
Unfortunately, that was nothing I’d ever experienced in my life. There’d been no man I’d hungered for enough to surrender my heart and soul. Let alone one who could wring one explosive orgasm after another from my body. I’d never had a man do everything in his power to get me to spend time with him, then do the little things I cared about just to be able to share my life.
That’s all I’d been able to think about since Nikolai had sent me to bed. While his words had been said with a sweet tone, they were stilted, as if he had no idea how he was supposed to act after… making love.
Given my lack of experience, I wasn’t entirely certain that’s what he would call the wonderful experience the night before, but he’d been entirely different. Gentle. Passionate.
Even loving.
He’d acted as if my pleasure mattered more than his. Wasn’t that the basis for making love? I thought about his marvelous tattoos, the colorful ink covering a good portion of his arms, chest, and back. There was even a glorious-looking