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Prime Target The Target Series Book 1 Marquita Valentine

Prime Target Copyright © 2015 by Marquita Valentine

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Previously published as The Request, The Deception, and The Confession Copyright © 2014 by Marquita Valentine

Acknowledgements Special Thanks to Autumn, Andrea and Amanda—The Triple ATeam. I don’t know if they know I think of them like that, but I do.

You guys are awesome and amazing and out of sight (wait, that didn’t start with an a, but you have to know what I’m talking about, right?!)

Big Breakout the Handcuffs Thanks to Andris Bear and her husband for schooling me on police procedures. Also, Andris is the best crit partner a girl could ever have in life.

Like Whoa Thanks to Carly Phillips for her uncanny ability to nail characterization every flipppin’ time. You are inspiring!

Grateful Thanks to Liliana Hart and Scott Silverii as well as the entire SilverHart team. Thanks for taking a chance on this series and brining it back to life.

Thanks to my readers for being the best readers in the history of readers. I couldn’t do this without you.

Last, but never least, I have to thank my family for putting up with me and supporting me. I love you guys! xo

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Acknowledgements Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Epilogue About Hard Target About the Author Other SilverHart Authors Books by Marquita Valentine

Chapter One EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT precisely four o’clock, Everly Andrews enters my bookstore to pick up her latest package of romance novels. We’ve been doing this for over a month now. She gives me a list of five books—sometimes ten if she wants to gift a few to her friends—and then I give her a future date. Sure, the books come in quite a bit faster than a week, but it’s the shortest amount of time between her visits I can allow.

Any shorter, and I’d put her in danger. And that is not acceptable.

You see, I don’t actually sell romance novels. I don’t sell books at all. My store is a front. I’m a death dealer—an avenging angel to some…while others would pay millions to see me die. I can’t blame them really. An eye for an eye, and all that.

Everly is the only one in this city I talk to on a regular basis, even if she’s the one doing most of the talking while I answer as vaguely as possible without sounding like an arse. In any case, it’s nearly four and I’m bound to start pacing if she doesn’t show up soon. Habitual people like Everly are a comfort to me, and yet that comfort is their greatest weakness.

A weak spot in their armor, if you will.

The bells on the front door ring, and I let out a breath. I don’t particularly like the jingle, but in my line of work, a bloke needs the extra time it affords.

Automatically, my hand goes to the gun strapped under the counter, only relaxing when I catch a glimpse of mahogany waves gleaming in the rays of light that seem to follow her inside.

Here comes my weak spot. My solnyshko. My sunshine.

“Hi, Roman,” she calls out as she walks to the counter, as if her appearance might spook me. Though she wouldn’t be far off, since I almost shot her the first time she entered my shop.

No one comes to my bookstore, and I make sure it looks as dark and dank as possible to turn away the tourists. But none of that, including my scowl, deters Everly. For that, I’m curious, thankful, and terrified, because I only bring death to those who are seen in my company.

“Ms. Andrews,” I say, placing her package on the counter.

She gives me a sunny smile. “You know, I’m pretty sure we’re the same age, so I think you can call me Everly.”

Ah, solnyshko, that will never happen. “As you wish,” I say with a shrug, and her beautiful eyes go all soft, like I’ve just spoken the most romantic words in existence.

Her emerald gaze searches my face. “You still didn’t say it.”

Clever girl. “Shall we open your package?”

Dainty hands, with soft, blue-polished nails trimmed short, tap the box twice before settling on top. She gives me a crooked smile.

“You’re allowed to open it before I get here.”

“Duly noted.” But then how would I prolong her visit? I grab a box cutter and motion for her to move her hands. Hands that I want to touch, hands that I want to feel run down my body, or do something as simple as hold. Quickly, I split open the box and check it before permitting Everly to dig inside.

Always, I’m concerned my enemies will target her, no matter how innocent our contact and how damn reserved I am in her presence.

“Oooh, the latest Zoe Ambrose, or should I say, Romanov?”

Everly sighs, her expression turning dreamy. “Can you imagine marrying a Hollywood movie star who’s rumored to be the son of the head of a Russian mafia family?”

I don’t have to imagine it. “It’s not something I contemplate on a daily basis.”

Everly snorts, and then winks at me—something I find absolutely charming. “And they say the British have no sense of humor.”

I’m not British, but the accent suits me. As does my name. The location. Everything about Raleigh, North Carolina suits me.

Since I moved here, I’ve trained myself to think like an Englishman, to speak, eat, and make assumptions about Yanks. It’s easier this way, and I’m less likely to fall into old habits.

“How is business?” I ask, setting the box cutter on the counter. A conversation about the internet-based company she runs seems to be banal enough.

She beams at me. “Two more new clients this week. One makes the most adorable bows for little girls, and the other makes the cutest sweaters for dogs. When I’m seventy-five, I hope to have just a tenth of Ms. Mabel and Mrs. Jemima’s energy.” The way Everly talks about the women she helps makes me smile inwardly. She gushes over their wares, using words like adorable, cutest, fabulous, and super yummy. In reality, these women should gush over her. “Sales are already pouring in like crazy, and I was able to give my two weeks’ notice at the YMCA.” “Congratulations.” I smile a little. This is excellent news. There was many a night I kept my shop open just to make sure she got home okay. Late nights and a shady downtown area are not safe for a woman walking alone.

She traces a pattern on the countertop, right beside her box of books, and then peers up at me through lacy black lashes. “Maybe I could help you, too? I’d be more than happy to set up a site for you on Etsy or eBay.” “Thank you, but no. Rare books wouldn’t do well.” And there’s no way I’d advertise my business’s location. Might as well place a neon arrow pointing at the building.

Everly’s gaze bounces around my shop. I know she wants to say something about my lack of customers, but she doesn’t. She’s too kind. Too soft. Too weak.

No, I remind myself, for some, kindness is a strength.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go sit and read for while. I don’t want to wait until I get home.” Without waiting for a response, she picks up her books and dashes to the back of the store to sit in the plush cub chair I bought just for her.

Bemused, I stare after her.

With a little grin, she settles in the chair and pulls out a book, pretending to read while eying me over the top of the pages. Just like I pretend to work while keeping an eye on her.

“Roman,” she says, taking my breath away as she wriggles out of her coat. Her book nearly falls out of her lap before she catches it.

For a moment, I can only stare at her, at her lush figure flattered by the simple dress she wears. It’s green like her eyes, with a wide, pink belt around the middle. “Yes?” I manage to get out.

The bells on the door ring and a familiar face reflects in the mirror across from me. I clench my jaw. Petrov. Two weeks ago, I had dinner with his brother. That night, his body was found floating in the Seine.

Blissfully unaware of the danger, Everly asks, “Did you buy the hot chocolate and Granny-Smith-apple-flavored jelly beans just for me?” She holds up the bags of hot cocoa and jelly beans, clearly delighted at the find. My heart turns in my chest. The feeling is odd.

It’s dangerous.

Once, on a particularly blustery morning, she had mentioned liking hot chocolate, and I’d spied the bag of jelly beans in her purse.

Naturally, I went out and bought every bag I could find while ordering the best hot cocoa money could buy.

Naturally, I’m a stupid fuck.

Petrov smirks as he awaits my answer, beady eyes darting to a smiling Everly, then back to me.

“No. Someone left it here. I have no use for it,” I answer evenly.

“Once you’re done checking your order, let me know and I’ll get you sorted before you leave.”

Her face falls, and I want to stab myself in the heart. “Oh,” she says in a small voice. “I’m, uh, ready now.”

Petrov pretends to peruse my shelves while I force myself not to apologize to Everly. “The total comes to twenty-five seventy-four.”

She hands a credit card over and, in less than a minute, our transaction is complete, and she’s walking to the door without a backward glance.

I busy myself with nonexistent paperwork, while watching security monitors concealed under the register. “I’ll be with you momentarily,” I say, as if I have no idea who Petrov is. The bastard disappears from the screen and I start for the gun hidden in the far cabinet.

“Leave the weapon, Nikolai,” he says, walking toward me, and I freeze.

Chapter Two MY EYES SLIDE to the front door, but I have nothing to worry about, because Everly is long gone. She’s safe, I remind myself, even as I want to run after her to make things right.

“I don’t have a problem with you,” I say to Petrov, who is dressed like a conservative businessman. Only I know the jackal underneath.

I’ve seen his handiwork, but since I haven’t been contracted to put an end to him, he lives to terrorize.

“Russian, please.” He waves the gun around, his sports jacket creasing with the movement. “Never know who’s listening.”

I’m not about to remind him that the NSA has people who speak every language working for them, and that if they choose to spy on my shop, we’re both fucked.

Carefully taking a half-step back, I say, “Good to see you, old friend.”

“I have shit older than you,” Petrov says, eying me with disgust.

“If you’ve come here for information about the financier, then I’m very sorry to disappoint you.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Your brother had it coming. Be glad it was me, and not the Skinner.”

Petrov’s nostrils flare. “You expect me to be happy that you executed Daniil instead of Ivan?”

I nod. “At least he didn’t suffer.” Or rather, he didn’t suffer long.

Short of falling asleep and never waking up, there’s no such thing as a painless death. “With Ivan…”

Ivan is called the Skinner because he takes great pleasure in skinning his victims while they’re alive. He loves the screams, the smell, the blood, and the clothes he can make from his treasures.

Just one time in his presence, while my father forced me to watch Ivan perform, had been enough. My only consolation is that I was told the victim was a pedophile, but who knew if that were true or not.

“For that small mercy, I’ll make it quick.” He raises his gun, and I lunge forward, grabbing the box cutter and throwing it at him. It embeds itself in the side of his face, the point sinking into his left eye.

He howls with pain. “Motherfucker!” He doesn’t bother to aim, just starts shooting, as I dive behind the counter. A bullet hits me in the thigh, searing pain rips through me, and I see stars. Another hits my shoulder, rendering my arm useless.

I lie on my side, panting heavily and trying to manage the pain as he strides to me. Petrov mutters a curse and kicks me in the ribs.

“I ought to gut you like the pig you are,” he says, pulling the razor from his face. He throws it at me, and it plunges into my hip.

“Fuck,” I growl. My leg throbs. If I don’t get help soon, I’ll bleed out. That is, unless Petrov decides to shoot me once in the heart and three times in the back of the head. It’s his signature. Then again, that might work against him.

“Do it,” I taunt. “Show the world who killed me.”

He lifts his gun, blood running down his cheek. “The world will never know.”

There is a pounding on the wall. A wail of sirens.

Petrov scans the room while I grab the gun I’ve hidden under the base of the counter and take aim at his miserable head. When Petrov’s bloody gaze meets mine again, his eyes widen.

“Leave now,” I pant.

With a growl, he pivots and runs out of my store.

I yank the blade from my thigh and yell out another curse. Damn Petrov’s family, my family, and the fucking Bratva.

The sound of sirens is closer. I’m not sure if they are for me, or another crime. I fumble for the hidden latch near where I stored the gun. A small opening appears and I toss the gun in along with the bloody box cutter, then press the latch again.

Waves of darkness wash over me, and I pass out.

WHAT SEEMS LIKE seconds later, I wake up, gasping for air. I blame my comfortable life here for my passing out. In the past, two gunshot

wounds wouldn’t have stopped me, and Petrov would never have left my store on his own two legs.

The bells ring again. “Come to finish me off, you bastard?”

“Roman? Is that you?” a familiar voice asks. “I left my coat.”

“Everly,” I croak.

Suddenly, she’s by my side, her fingers on my face. At least I won’t die before knowing how soft her skin is, or how tenderly she strokes me.

“Oh my God. Who shot you?” she cries, shifting to cradle my head in her lap. I hear a thunk. “Let me call 9-1-1.”

“Your dress,” I manage to say.

“Don’t worry about the blood—you’re more important.”

I smile against the pain. “No. Tear it into strips. I might need a tourniquet. He shot me in the leg…and shoulder.” I cough, and air rattles in my chest.

I hear fabric tearing even as she gives information to Emergency Services. The phone drops to the floor, narrowly missing my head.

“Where should I tie it?” she asks. As she leans over me like this, her breasts are directly above me. God, I’m dying, yet the thought of kissing her there is driving me mad. Or maybe it’s a sign I won’t die.

She presses down on my wound and I groan, forgetting all about her delectable breasts.

Immediately, the pain lessens. “Sorry, sorry. In the movies and books, they always try to stop the bleeding like this,” she cries.

“Cut my trousers open and help elevate my leg.”

“At the same time?” she asks, voice trembling as she sits back.

Once again, her hands go to my face, stroking my cheek. She leans over me. This close, I can see the fullness of her lips, the smoothness of her skin, and the concern in her gaze.

“No, love. Check the wounds to see if the bullet went all the way through or not.”

“O-okay.” Gingerly, she moves away from me, careful to place my head on the hardwood floor. I watch as she grabs a pair of scissors from her purse. “I knew these would come in handy one day.”

Quickly, she cuts my pant leg. In the background, I’m dimly aware the emergency operator is still on the line. “Well?”

“I can’t… Oh God, Roman, I have to pick up your leg to see.”

“Don’t move him!” the operator shouts.

Everly’s gaze flies to mine. She licks her lips, clearly torn between following the directions of a professional or me, the reserved shopkeeper. “What do you want me to do?” she asks softly.

“Check, please. I’ll help you.” Gritting my teeth, I lift my leg and break into a cold sweat. “Hurry, darling.”

“There’s a hole in the back, but it’s small,” she says, and I prop my foot on the shelf in front of me.

Sirens blare.

Everly looks over her shoulder. “They’re here. Thank God. They’re here, Roman.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, letting the darkness take me once more.

Even if I never wake up again, this heaven I’m experiencing right now is worth it.

* THE WORLD IS a great, white light as I open my eyes. Too bright.

I screw my eyes shut once more, listening. It seems safe, just the hum and beep of machines. The slight echo of footsteps and voices in the hallway.

Shifting my head left, then right, I take stock of my body. Though I’m sore as hell, I can still move everything. I open my eyes and take in my surroundings, startled to find Everly curled up in a chair beside my hospital bed.

She’s sleeping, still wearing the same green dress. Only the hem is about a foot shorter and there are purple shadows under her eyes.

How long has she been here? How long have I been here?

Someone walks into the room, and I turn my head to find a nurse approaching the side of my bed. “Welcome back, Mr. Smith.”

I find my voice. My throat is scratchy, and it burns. “How long was I out?”

“Two days.” She places a couple of fingers on my wrist and keeps an eye on her watch. “It was touch and go for a while, but that angel

sleeping beside you wouldn’t give up. I’ve never seen someone pray so fiercely for another human being. She even donated blood—you’re a lucky man to have a fiancée like her. And she must be a lucky woman to have you, because ain’t no man worth getting that worked up over, unless he’s a good one.”

I glance at Everly just in time to see her cheeks turn a rosy pink.

So the sleeping angel has a bit of the devil in her. Still, it’s…nice to wake up to a familiar face.

The last time I was put in the hospital, no one came to see me. No one came to check on me, to see if I was alive, or could walk, or eat, or fucking talk. I’d lay in a stark hospital room for days, it seemed, until they discharged me. Then I collected my things and walked out, a stranger in a strange land once more.

“I am very lucky,” I say softly.

Once the nurse finishes checking my vitals and leaves, I count to twenty before calling Everly’s bluff.

“Love, I know you’re awake. No one blushes in their sleep.”

Her eyes pop open, and a chagrined look graces her face. “I woke up when the nurse came in, but when she said all that…there was no way I could face you.”

I sit up in bed, pressing the remote to allow the mattress to help me. “Sometimes falsehoods must be told in order to help others.”

“You would have gotten medical care whether I lied or not,” she admits, turning her pretty face away from me. “But I was afraid to let you out of my sight. I even rode in the ambulance with you.”

She had ridden in the ambulance? The vague memory of a woman weeping softly and holding my hand stirs in my mind, but I’m not sure if it’s my mother or Everly. My mother wept a great many nights after my father left her for the family he always wanted.

I flex all ten fingers, the black tattoos on my hands rippling with the movement.

“Do those have a meaning?” she asks, sitting up and adjusting her dress.

“I liked the look of them.”

Her lips twist a little, as if she doesn’t quite believe me. “That’s too bad. I was hoping for something with a story behind it.”

My story would make you wish you never met me. “You read too many romance novels,” I grumble, looking around for the container of ice or water that always seems to be on hand in hospitals. I reach for the Styrofoam container, but Everly jumps up, gently pushing my arm away.

“Let me help you,” she says. She fills up a cup with water and sticks a straw in before coming back to me. “Here, drink this.”

I’m perfectly able to hold the cup with my uninjured arm and hand, but a selfish part of me wants to be fussed over. Especially by her. I allow her to hold the cup to my mouth, to take the straw between her fingers and gently push it between my parted lips.

The tips of her fingers touch my mouth, and a shudder rocks my body. A sharp inhalation of breath lets me know I’m not the only one affected.

Lifting my eyes, I gaze up at her, sucking on the straw and letting the cool liquid ease the burning path that used to be my throat. A connection forms between us, and she leans closer, so close that I can smell the lingering shampoo and perfume she wears.

My body goes hard, and my dick joins in. The thin sheet tents.

Her eyes widen, and the cup shakes. The straw slips from my mouth.

“More,” I demand, and her attention returns to my face. I wrap my hand around her wrist and bring the cup closer, parting my lips and waiting.

She doesn’t hesitate. Her fingers touch my mouth, the straw glides in, and I imagine she’s doing this to me. Her mouth on me, taking me inside…

“You can hold this; I need to go to the restroom to freshen up. I can’t possibly smell good,” she says, hurrying away.

A smile kicks up the corner of my mouth. I haven’t felt like this in years. Haven’t felt like a man instead of just a contract killer. Sure, I’ve been with women. Women wealthy, beautiful, and as deadly as I am with a gun. Innocents like Everly Andrews have no place in my life.

But the part of me she’s awakened doesn’t want to listen to that.

That part of me wants her. Wants her smile, her laugh, her touch… her body. It wants to get to know her beyond my bookstore, to know

what else she likes to drink besides hot cocoa. What else she likes to eat besides Granny-Smith-apple-flavored jelly beans.

“I feel a bit better now, but I really need a shower,” she announces, walking back into my room from the private bathroom.

“Will you be okay if I go home to change?”

I won’t be okay, but it has nothing to do with my health or safety.

It has everything to do with her.

“The nurses will keep me sorted.”

Everly stares at me for a moment. “I could go to your place and bring back whatever you need.”

The only thing I need is standing by my hospital bed. “That’s not necessary. But I really appreciate the offer,” I add before she mistakes my refusal as a rejection.

“One last question before I go,” she says, her smile turning shy.

“Ask away,” I softly command.

“Do you think you can call me Everly now? I mean, I did rescue you from the jaws of death.” She bites her lip, like she’s trying not to giggle.

For the first time in years, I throw my head back and laugh, uncaring of how much it hurts to do so. “God, yes. I’ll call you whatever you want, love.”

A uniformed officer walks into the room, and my laughter fades.

This is the moment I’ve been dreading. “Mr. Smith, I’m Officer Jones, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Everly’s gaze bounces to the officer. “Do you need me for anything?”

Officer Jones gives her an easy smile, one that speaks of familiarity. “You’ve been more than helpful, Ms. Andrews.”

“Great.” She walks to me, her eyes soft as her fingers brush my hair back. I can’t help but wonder what she told the police. Has she betrayed me without even knowing it? “I’ll see you later,” she says, and then leaves.

Officer Jones steps closer to my bed, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. “Can you tell me what happened on the twenty-sixth?”

Prepared for this moment, I say, “A man walked in, clearly high, wanting money. He picked the wrong shop. I don’t deal with cash.

Credit card purchases only.”

“That would explain the lack of a till,” the officer says as he takes notes.

I clear my throat. “When he realized I wasn’t lying, he got all pissed and fired a couple of shots, and then,” I close my eyes, as if the memory is painful to relive, “I passed out. I’m not quite sure how long I laid there before Ms. Andrews came inside, looking for her coat.”

“Detectives have already been down to your bookstore. We couldn’t find a weapon or any other bullet holes or casings.”

Inwardly relieved, I open my eyes. My secrets are safe. “Son of a bitch.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me about the perp? Maybe describe him?”

“Brownish hair, late twenties to early thirties. Male. Um, eyes, uh…bloodshot. His skin was a sickly gray color.”

Officer Jones snorts. “You just described every junkie down on Hargett.”

Perfect. I make another noise of disgust. “I’m not that observant.

Honestly, all I can remember is the barrel of his gun.”

The officer nods. “Thank you for your time. If we have more questions, we’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as Officer Jones walks out of the room, I exhale. My cover hasn’t been blown, and I’m still alive.

But what will I do about Everly? I owe her my life now.

I owe her everything.

Chapter Three Madrid, four months later

I SCAN THE perimeter of the room, ignoring the glittering ball gowns and black tuxes of the guests. They are not my target. Tonight, the hostess is my prey. Fitting to label her as such, I think, since she preys on children and sells them into human trafficking rings.

Her specialty is boys, and since boys demand a higher price than girls, she lives a luxurious life while they suffer. While her victims are degraded and made to serve adults who have no business breathing.

If I could take out every last one of those monsters in one fell swoop, I would, but I will settle for taking out the supplier.

I recognize her face from the picture my contact gave me, hidden inside a second-edition copy of Dickens’ Oliver Twist. As a server passes by, tray balanced on the tips of his fingers, I set my halfempty glass of champagne on it and then make my move.

“Excuse me,” I say, giving the redhead my most charming smile.

“I’m in need of assistance, and you look to be the woman for the… job.”

Vibrant blue eyes assess me, clearly excited by my attention, and I briefly wonder if perhaps my contact is mistaken about her. Or perhaps she’s been forced into this by another—one who holds all the power in her miserable life—because my target has a reputation for selling her own body as well.

But she smiles, and in that smile, I can see the evil that lives inside of her. I have seen it countless times before.

“Only assistance?”

“I’ve a need for what only you can provide.”

A coy smile covers her lips. “Just me?”

I raise a brow. “Only you…for now.”

She leans closer. “Meet me at the top of the stairs in ten minutes.”

Taking her hand, I bring it to my lips, a parody of a kiss, when all I want to do is finish the job.

* I SLAM HER against the wall, giving her a wicked smile even as my mostly healed shoulder pulls a little. She laughs wildly. We’re in my hotel room, and she thinks this is foreplay. She thinks this is a mere prelude. What she thinks is going to happen tonight, never will. I don’t fuck my targets.

“God, I knew you were perfect for me.” She bites my neck, and it takes all my self-control not to break hers in return.

Instead, I gentle my caress, running my finger down the line of her throat, all the way to the deep v of her cleavage. She grabs my wrist and forces it to her throat. The silver ring on my thumb gleams, catching my attention. I rub the bottom of it, imagining the sound of the click that springs the deadly needles into action.

She’ll never see this coming. She’ll never feel anything beyond the sting of a mosquito bite. This isn’t my chosen method, because I don’t have a calling card beyond death. There’s nothing in each kill that will identify me as the killer. Only whispers of who I am follow in my wake.

“You can squeeze,” she pants, and I oblige her. She grimaces slightly. “Something bit me.”

“Did it?” I loosen my grip on her and slowly turn away. Walking to the bar in my suite, I pour myself a drink.

“What the hell did you do to me?”

Turning, I lift the glass to my mouth. “Only what you deserved.”

Her face pales, contrasting starkly with her red hair. “You’re him,” she gasps, and then smiles slightly. “I always thought I’d get the Skinner.”

“You still could,” I mock, and then take a drink.

She slumps to the floor, like a marionette whose strings are finally cut. Her eyelids droop. “Tell my mother I’m sorry.”

“But not the children whose lives you destroyed?”

“Don’t judge me because we sin differently,” she slurs. “We’re the same.”

“We are not the same.” I throw my glass against the wall, purposely missing her by inches. “I do not kill the innocent.”

A huff of air. “Exactly. The. Same.” Her eyes close, and she lists to one side.

Soon, her heartbeat will slow, her lungs will cease to draw in sufficient air, and her muscles will become so relaxed that her bowels will expel all the waste they store. I’ve been told that on some level, the poisoned know this, that they are at least partially aware of their body shutting down, of the indignity of their death. I take one last look at the woman on the floor.

“I pray to God that he has no mercy on your soul.” Pulling my phone from my pocket, I make a call.

“Service?” I don’t recognize the voice, but I do know that all traces of the body will be removed from my hotel room as quickly and discreetly as possible.

“Maid, please,” I reply and then hang up, tossing the phone on the bed a second later. I pull a clear bottle out of my pocket. Inside is a most useful liquid for a man in my line of work. The liquid destroys all evidence of DNA with just a simple misting and wipe-down, or I could use bottle number two and simply replace my DNA with another’s. Either way, this hit will never be traced back to me.

After spraying down everything—including the body and the broken glass—I exit the room.

* I RETURN TO the States on a Wednesday morning, the red-eye flight getting me back in time to open shop for Everly’s visit. I look forward to it even more than usual, since this will be her first visit to my shop in months.

Since my trip to the hospital, Everly and I have grown a bit closer, despite my resistance. The woman is, for lack of a better word, determined to be in my life.

The day I was discharged, she’d shown up with a spectacularly gaudy Get Well Soon balloon and offered to drive me home.

Thankfully, and yet completely regrettably, my cousin, Benjamin Romanov, had arrived that morning to oversee my rehabilitation.

Something I appreciated, yet despised. A small part of me had hoped that the Bratva would forget about the man known as Roman Smith. That perhaps getting shot was divine intervention and I could be free to pursue Everly.

In the following months, I had to close my shop while I recuperated, watched for signs of Petrov’s return, and had the entire place cleaned of the forensics powder the police had left behind.

Though every Wednesday, I would sit on a bench in a small park by my shop and wait for Everly. Always, I would stay by her side while she read from one of the books I delivered to her.

I’m a glutton for punishment, I suppose, but in those quiet moments, I felt at peace with the world. I had the most lovely, most beautiful woman within arm’s reach, and I soaked her presence in.

She didn’t try to force me to talk to her, though she did her best to get me to open up.

“What’s your favorite book?” she asks, setting her latest Zoe Ambrose novel down.

“The kind that makes me the most money,” I say, breaking off a piece of bread and throwing it to the birds in the park.

She rolls her eyes, and I bite back a grin. “Seriously, Roman. Tell me.”

“Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince,” I say softly. “My mother read it to me as a child before bedtime.”

She doesn’t make one of her gentle jokes at this. Instead, she inches closer to me, so close that our thighs are touching. “That’s a sweet memory to share with me.”

It’s a true memory. I pick up her book and examine it. “While you are reading a very raunchy scene.”

Blushing, she laughs. “It’s not raunchy. It’s romantic.”

We both grow quiet, and I hand the book back to her. Romantic.

I can’t offer her straight-up fucking, much less romance.

“Fantasy is good,” I murmur, and she beams at me.

“Thanks for not making fun of what I read.” Her hand reaches for mine, but I move it out of the way. She makes a little face, then goes back to her reading.

The moment has passed, but I can’t help wondering what it would have been like to give in.

A gust of sharp wind brings me back to the present, and I blink.

For reasons known only to God, Everly sees something in me.

Something she wants to touch and hold. I feel the same way about her. When I see Everly, all I see is pure goodness and beauty.

Yet, each time I look at my hands, at the tattoos that are inked so deeply into my skin I’ll never be able to remove them, I see blood. My fingers may as well be twisted and charred, oozing with blood, with the sins that I committed in the name of ridding the world of scum.

And not for the first time, I wonder what Everly would do if I confessed the truth.

“Exactly the same.” The redhaired woman’s words slither into my head.

A plaintive meow breaks through my clouded head, and I turn to find a small cat sitting by the back door. Its fur is an odd shade of bluish-gray.

Kneeling, I rub its head. “Lost, little one?” I’ve always had an affinity for animals, from the time I was a child. A weakness my father said I inherited from my mother’s family. Animals were meant to serve us, to do our bidding, not perform tricks.

I scoop up the purring cat, heading in the direction of the local shelter. Everly won’t be here for at least thirty more minutes, so I have time to get this bit of fluff there.

“Ridding the world of mice, eh?” I croon as the familiar brick building comes into sight. The door opens, and an older woman with black hair liberally streaked with gray comes out. Mrs. Tatum is the director of the rescue shelter. Bangles on her wrists jingle as they crash against one another.

When she sees me, she smiles—her expression genuine and warm, much like Everly’s.

“Mr. Smith, how are you today?” Her gaze zeroes in on the bundle in my arms and the smile melts away, leaving behind a frown so sad that grooves appear in the side of her mouth. “Ah, I wish you hadn’t brought it.”

I glance down at the cat. Yellow eyes regard me thoughtfully. “She can’t eat that much. I’m more than happy to donate food—” “That’s not it.” She lets out a thick sigh. “We can’t take any more animals for at least a week. If they are left here, then we have to euthanize them.”

“I’ll take her home with me,” I immediately say, uncaring that even something as small as a cat can complicate my life.

“I’ll stop by later with some supplies for you,” Mrs. Tatum says.

Without further ado, I hurry back to my shop and await Everly’s return.

* NATURALLY, EVERLY LOVES my cat. Naturally, the cat hates Everly and hisses as soon as the woman attempts to hold her.

“Perhaps I should put her in the back?” I whisk the cat away, placing her in a nearly empty storeroom. There’s some cat food in a bowl, a small dish of water, a litter box, and a blanket—all courtesy of Mrs. Tatum. But the damned cat bolts out of the room before I can shut the door and disappears into my shop.

When I return, Everly is digging through her box. She stops when she sees me. “Does it bother you?”

“That the cat doesn’t like you? Not particularly.”

Everly tilts her head to one side. “The cat will come around, but I was speaking about the robbery.” Her gaze flicks to my shoulder and lower still to my thigh, as if she can still see the bullet holes. “I don’t know if I could ever come back here if it had happened to me.”

“Yet, here you are,” I say dryly, and she blushes a little.

She hefts the box and takes it to her usual spot, sitting down and curling her legs up beside her. “I won’t have an order for next week.”

A sort of panic sets in, my heart beating in staccato at the thought of her not making her weekly visit. Though we haven’t made much progress—okay, I haven’t made much progress—in our conversations, I can’t help but wonder how lonely my store would be without her in it. Actually, I do know. Six days a week, I know how it feels. It’s fucking miserable.

I’m fucking miserable.

“Why is that?”

“Out-of-town guest.”

Male or female? It hadn’t occurred to me that Everly could be in a relationship with anyone, because every Wednesday at precisely four o’clock, Everly Andrews is mine.

The bell on the door rings and once again, Everly’s eyes widen, but this time, it’s in pure terror. “Roman…someone’s here. Maybe you should call the cops,” she says, her voice shaky. Reaching into her purse, she pulls out pepper spray and a cell phone. “Here.”

Pepper spray versus a gun? Jesus.

Quickly, I check the monitor, taking note of the face before striding to her.

Carefully, I kneel beside the chair. Her scent washes over me, lightly floral and completely feminine. “You are perfectly safe. We’re perfectly safe. The man who just walked in is an old friend of mine.”

Actually, he is more than a friend. Growing up, he was my mentor—a man who taught me far more than my own father. I trust him with my life.

Everly exhales, her body trembling. I take her hand in mine, reveling in the contact. She’s just as soft as I remember, her skin just as satiny and delicate. “Let’s put away the pepper spray, shall we, before it goes off on its own.”

She rewards me with a tremulous smile. I allow my thumb to pass over a knuckle, and her breath hitches. She leans forward slightly, mahogany waves spilling over her shoulders. Our eyes meet, and I’m helpless in this moment. The last time she was this close to me, I’d been shot.

Now, I’m perfectly healthy and perfectly willing to take her to my bed. Because of her, I haven’t been with anyone in months. Months.

The thought of using another as a replacement for her leaves my mouth as dry as ashes in a dead hearth.

“Your friend,” she says, her lips inches from mine. Plump and pink.

Lickable.

I want to devour her, starting with that mouth.

“He’s browsing.”

She covers my hand with hers, but not to pull it away. Instead, she squeezes, and my dick gets hard. I close my eyes. This is no way to react to her still-present fear, but my body knows who’s touching it.

“Have lunch with me on Friday.”

My eyes pop open. “Pardon?”

“Lunch. You and me, we’ll eat and talk about books and nonshooting things. We won’t mention bullets or hospitals or nightmares of seeing a friend covered in blood,” she says, her smile quivering at the corners.

“You had nightmares?”

She nods. “I didn’t think I could ever come back here again.”

“Why did you?”

A little shrug and she looks away. I turn her face back to mine with my free hand. Heat arcs between us, my thumb dusts her lower lip, and her mouth parts. I dip my finger in slightly, and her tongue touches the tip before she pulls away.

A groan escapes before I can stop it. My sweet solnyshko. “Love, tell me why you came back.”

“Because my friend, who was shot twice, came back. If you can be strong and brave, Roman, then so can I.” Her hand moves from mine, and she starts to dig around in her purse. “But I don’t want you to be as afraid as I am, so I bought you something.”

There’s nothing I can say in this moment. I’m utterly gutted and transfixed by her, by her words. By her genuine concern.

By her pronouncement. My friend.

“You bought something for me?” I finally manage as her hand reappears, fingers clutching a medium-sized envelope.

Worrying the side of her lip, she says, “Self-defense, gun safety, training, and permit classes—I can’t remember the exact name for it, but the gift certificate covers it all. They teach everything.”

“I can’t—” “Please take it. We can take the classes together.”

It nearly kills me to hear that sort of invitation from her. Petrov’s revenge has marked her. It has affected Everly in a way that I would have never allowed, given the choice. Only that bloody bastard took it away from me.

“Or not,” she adds.

“I will accompany you, so that we can learn together.”

Beautiful eyes light up, but she’s still a bit wary. “You will?”

He will pay for that wariness, even without a contract. “I promise.” I draw an X over my heart, where it beats for her and only her, then I take the envelope and tuck it into the side pocket of my trousers.

I bring her hand to my lips, pressing upon it a kiss that I long to replicate in far more erotic areas. The side of her neck, the backs of her knees…her inner thighs as they part for me. As she digs her fingers into my shoulders and moans my name while I pleasure her.

I slash the image from my mind, willing my traitorous body to ignore the surge of lust that threatens to overwhelm and break down every last bit of iron will I’ve erected.

Of course, none of this can ever happen, no one can ever know the depths of feeling I have for her—physically or emotionally. Both are dangerous.

Regretfully, my heart feels as though it’s about to burst out of my chest. I pull away, breaking the sweetest of contacts I’ve had with another in a very, very long time.

She brushes my hair back from where it has fallen over my forehead. I want to lean into her touch, to let her linger longer. I can’t remember the last time I was touched like this. Maybe when I was a child, before my mother sent me to live with my grandfather.

“There. Now you look like the Roman I know,” she pronounces.

“Seller of rare books and procurer of romance novels.”

You don’t know me at all, I think sadly. I bring death even while I right wrongs. “Thank you.” I rise to my full height and brush at the invisible lint on the cuffs of my sleeves. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with my friend.”

“Oh,” she says, as if remembering we aren’t the only two people in my shop. Her earlier terror is gone, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go easier on Petrov when I find him. Quite the opposite actually. “You go on; I need to leave in a few minutes anyway. I’ll see you Friday night for our first class. It’s at seven, so we can eat before we go or after. Or…you don’t have to eat with me at all.”

Like a date? And what happened to having lunch with her? Stupid man—you can’t have lunch with her. You can’t have anything with her at all, beyond these walls. Meeting with her in the park was fucking madness. “What if we pick the same restaurant? Shall we sit at separate tables and pretend not to know one another?”

She tilts her head to one side again. Adorably, I might add. “Are you flirting with me, Roman?”

I catch sight of my customer leaning against the counter, his inquisitive eyes missing nothing. He’s amused by us, I realize.

Suddenly, I can’t respond in kind to her. It feels wrong. My instincts are warning me to stop this flirtation.

I shrug. “I’m not sure of my dinner plans yet. I’ll meet you at class, yes?”

“Sure. Whatever. See you at class,” she answers with a bright smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t worry about lunch this week or whenever. I, ah, forgot I have plans with my out-of-town guest.” A lie. The air vibrates with it. I’ve just hurt her. Again. There’s no way she’ll push for more.

“Brilliant.” I focus my attention on the man at the counter, watching Everly gather her things in my peripheral vision. She looks defeated.

She turns suddenly, her mouth opening like she has more to say, and my body tenses. Then she gives herself a little shake, and her mouth snaps shut. She hitches the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder, scooping the box of books into her arms before barreling toward the front of the store.

The door opens with a bang, from her hip hitting against it. The cat I found in the alleyway slips out with her, flicking its tail proudly.

I stand there, watching as both of them disappear from view.

Chapter Four “WOMEN.

ALWAYS WANTING what they can’t have, eh?” Viktor Chapeyev knows about the shooting and Everly’s role in saving me.

He always knows.

At fifty-five, he’s still just as intimidating as the first time I met him as a boy of twelve. Same white-blond hair, same black eyes, and same charming smile. A great many have met their Maker after seeing Viktor’s visage. Sixteen years later, none of that has changed.

“She’s spooked from Petrov’s handiwork and wants me to take self-defense classes with her,” I explain.

Piercing, black eyes assess my words. “She knows nothing?”

“Less than zero,” I mutter as he passes a book to me.

“I’m interested in selling this,” he says.

I turn it over and read the title. The Secret Lives of Kings.

“Royalty,” I say, nonplussed.

Besides the implication of the title, there are only three copies of this 1835 tome in the entire world. When it was published, kingdoms came tumbling down, because it created such a stir. Newspapers, pamphlets, and posters copied the scandalous truths of those in power, and it had gone, for lack of a better term, viral.

If I truly ran this store as a business, I’d be gobsmacked right now.

“Viva la revolucion,” Viktor says with a smirk, and so begins information dissemination. “It’s a fairly recent regime change, though the family is an old one. Hence…” He pats the book.

Before Snowden revealed what he knew and the entire world became aware of the far reach of the NSA, the Bratva embraced technology, the easy flow of encrypted information from continent to continent. Now, many—including me—have returned to the old ways, with the occasional use of technology to help.

“Ah, yes. How long have they reigned?” How much time do I have?

“Not long—two months.” A month to study my prey and formulate a plan. Then a month to execute and get paid. Standard.

“What are they known for?” What’s the crime?

“Parties, community service, and lavish spending.” Prostitution, intimidation, and bankrupting their citizens.

“Sounds rather common, don’t you think?” Method of execution?

“Not at all. However, I read that the prince avoids feather pillows.

Fear of birds or something like that.” Smothering… A very personal vendetta the financier has against this prince, then.

“Hopefully, someone will help him conquer it. In the meantime, I’m more than happy to purchase this book from you—for a fair price.” I accept.

We go through the motions of haggling and settle on a price.

“You drive a hard bargain, Roman.” Viktor nods. “You know, it’s not good for a man to be alone. As your friend, I feel it’s my duty to give you some advice.”

Warning sirens blare in my head. “And that would be?”

“Go out with Ms. Andrews.” He waves a hand in the air. “Be a young man in springtime.”

“It’s autumn,” I say flatly.

“Whatever the season, no one is guaranteed anything but death.”

My death or hers? “I appreciate your advice, but—” “No buts.”

I clench my jaw, my fists, and hold my entire body perfectly still, even as I want to smash in his face. He’s threatening Everly, but for what reason? I’ve assured him she knows less than nothing and I’ve agreed to the deal. “The attention might be unwanted.”

“The attention will be welcomed. People will wonder if they never see you out and about.”

Message: My cloistered life is not acceptable anymore to the Bratva and Viktor is delivering the news himself. For that, I am thankful, but at the same time I am furious with my family.

They want me to blend in, while all I want to do is disappear once I pay my debt to my grandfather for not executing my mother when

she showed up, unannounced, with me in tow. For giving me a life and attention when all that my father showed me was death and indifference. Not that my grandfather is innocent—far from it.

But he’s not a megalomaniac like my father. And he believes family comes first. Always.

I force my jaw to relax and bare my teeth at him in a parody of a smile. “I’ll ask her to dinner Friday night, before class.”

“Very good, Nikolai. Very good.” With another tap on the cover of The Secret Lives of Kings, he leaves my shop, whistling.

I pick up my phone and dial the number I’ve memorized, but never used.

“Hello?”

“Everly? This is Roman.”

Silence and then, “Did I leave something behind?”

“No.” “Did you forget that I didn’t order anything this week?”

“No.” Yes, this is a perfectly normal conversation to have with the woman you want to spend more time with. Perfectly, bloody normal.

“Then I’m not sure… Do I owe you money?” she asks, and I want to bang my head against the nearest wall.

“No,” I bark into the phone, and then take a deep breath. “I would like to invite you to have dinner with me Friday night before our class.”

“Oh,” she breathes.

Is this a good oh or a you-had-your-chance-but-I’ve-moved-on oh? “I could collect you around six?”

“Collect me?” she asks, clearly bewildered by this turn of events.

“Pick you up at your place,” I clarify.

Silence again. I drop my head into my free hand, positive she will say no. “That sounds fine. My address is fifteen Magnolia Way—it’s an old house split into a duplex, so I’m B. See you in a couple of days.”

“Bye, Everly.”

She ends our call first and I stand there, head in my hand and phone pressed against my ear. There’s a scratching sound at the front

door. I straighten and slip the phone into my pocket, right beside the envelope Everly gave me.

Peering out the display window, I find the little cat waiting and move to open the door. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

I kneel, scratching the cat under the chin. The bugger flops to its side, demanding more attention. I shake my head. “Come inside. I’ll feed you.”

Whoever rented the shop before me installed a cat door in the front, but I had it blocked off. Perhaps this cat is used to coming here. In any case, I re-open the tiny door. “Not because I like you. I just don’t want to be bothered with letting you out,” I say as I stand and step back.

The cat races inside, and I lock the door before following it to the empty storage room. “If you’re to stay, then I expect you to pull your weight around here.” Pausing as it eats, the cat looks up at me. “Kill the vermin, yes?”

Of course the bloody thing doesn’t respond, so I leave the room and head to my office, grabbing The Secret Lives of Kings along the way. After a few hours of research on a prince that would make Joffrey from Game of Thrones look like an angel who dispenses love taps, I lean back in my chair, rubbing my eyes and stretching.

The cat jumps onto my desk and then into my lap. Absently, I pet the creature and it starts to purr. The sound calms me.

“In less than two months, I will end a man’s life,” I murmur in Russian to the cat. “Will you let me pet you then?”

If Everly were to know the truth, and I knew with absolute certainty she would be safe, would she want to be in my presence again? Or would she look at me differently, seeing only the monster and not the man?

Then again, maybe the man never existed in the first place.

* AFTER TWO DAYS of unbearable waiting, it’s finally Friday afternoon and I’m getting ready for my date with Everly. Unsure of what to

wear for an evening of dinner and kicking bad guys’ arses, I dress in my usual suit and pack a gym bag with a second set of clothes. I tuck my trainers in last and zip it closed.

Koshechki, or little she-cat, as I call her—it was easier than referring to her as an it, or so I tell myself—jumps up on the dresser, staring at herself in the mirror.

“You are a vain animal.” She turns up her nose at me, and I grunt.

“Very. Vain.”

I adjust my tie and then forego it entirely, leaving my top two buttons undone. One last look in the mirror, and I run a hand through the front of my dark hair, then smooth it a little.

“Blyad,” I mutter. It doesn’t matter. None of this does. Once I’ve satisfied the powers that be by dating, I’ll move to another city, so Everly will remain safe and can’t be used as a pawn.

Sharp claws scrape at my insides at the thought of never seeing her again, but I ignore the pain. It’s more important that she remain safe. That she remain alive.

* EVERLY IS STANDING outside when I park beside the curb. With her hair in a loose bun, she’s wearing a pair of ankle boots, black trousers, and a light blue sweater. The sweater and trousers cling to her curves, highlighting everything I lust after.

Her eyes widen a little when she realizes I’m the one in the Porsche. I do find it amusing that she barely noticed the car when I pulled alongside her.

Cutting the engine, I get out and walk to her. “You should have allowed me to colle—pick you up properly at your home.”

She swings her purse from side to side. “It’s too nice of a day to wait inside.”

I glance up at the heavy clouds. It’s been raining all day and only stopped twenty minutes ago. “Really?” I ask dryly.

“Truly.” A drop of rain lands on her cheek, reminding me of a tear.

Stepping closer, I gently wipe it away with the pad of my thumb.

“Did you think I wouldn’t come?”

She looks away, her beautiful profile all she’ll allow me to view. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“Look at me.” I cup her chin and turn her to face me. “I gave you my word.”

Her black lashes fall, hiding her pretty eyes from me. “So I’m an obligation to fulfill.”

She doesn’t know how close to the truth she actually is, but for me, she will never be just an obligation. “Don’t take it that way. What I meant is that I’m a man of my word.”

“Sometimes, your words hurt.” Her gaze meets mine, and I clench my teeth at the pain I see in hers. I caused it. Again.

“I promise to be more careful with my words.” I can’t apologize, not for protecting her, not for wanting to keep her alive. Protecting Everly is like second nature. It’s like breathing, blinking…or my heart beating.

“Thank you.” She smiles at me, tipping up her face.

Automatically, I dip my head. Our mouths are inches apart, oxygen becoming shared. The scent of her fills my nose, my mouth, my lungs…my body. I let my hand curve around her head to the back of her neck, and draw her closer.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I say roughly.

“Okay,” she whispers. She grabs my free hand, twining her fingers in mine and tugging.

“Tell me,” I say, one last time before I give in to the nearly uncontrollable need to taste her.

Her dark gaze searches my face, lips plump and parting. Mine part in response. My body vibrates in anticipation. Every muscle is straining, even as I hold myself back. The only thing between us is millimeters and clothes.

Bloody damn clothes.

“Kiss me, Roman,” she orders, and I meet her the rest of the way.

I capture her mouth with mine and she willingly surrenders, her grip tightening. Our fingers are bound together by more than just the

physical. I can’t explain it, don’t want to question it, but I do know I will not let anything come between us.

Taking my time, I explore her lush lips, kissing the corners and nibbling on the bottom one. It’s firm and plump. I lightly bite down, and she gives a little moan, enough to inflame my senses more than she already has over the past few months.

I suck her lip inside my mouth, then let it pop out and fuse our mouths again. I can’t stop kissing her. I can’t stop reveling in the taste of the woman I’ve wanted for so long. She’s tart, sweet, and so damn desirable that I know I’ll explode if I don’t have her in my bed soon. I need to sink inside her sexy body and mark her as mine.

Her tongue tangles with mine, and I growl. Growl. Like some fucking beast instead of a man. But what she does to me… She makes me forget my past. I can only focus on the present, on her in my arms, her body pressed against mine as the rain softly falls on the two of us.

“Roman,” she murmurs, and I shush her, afraid she wants to stop, though she was the one who ordered me to kiss her. To be honest, I’m afraid that somehow she can taste my sins and violent deeds, and is disgusted.

So, I let go of her hand and cup her face with both of my hands, aligning my head in such a way that allows me to take control. I kiss her deeply, fiercely…as if I’ll never have this chance again.

Jesus.

Her kisses are making me drunk, high…careless. Any one of my enemies could see us, and shoot me before I could draw my own gun.

One last, lingering kiss and I break contact, step away, and try to get my body under control. It’s hard. I’m so fucking hard. I can barely walk, barely stand…barely function.

I rub my fingers across my lips, not to wipe her away, but to remember. I want to rub in the taste of her, so that I never forget. So that when I die, the last memory I’ll have is of kissing Everly Andrews in the rain.

Please God, don’t ever make it so I have to kill her.

Chapter Five EVERLY STARES AT me, eyes all-knowing, like she’s reading my mind.

Only that can’t be true, because she’s not calling the cops or running away.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” she says, her cheeks turning pink.

“Have you?” I murmur, and then want to stab myself. Why in God’s name would I ask that?

“Um, yes.” She reaches behind her, grabs an umbrella by the stoop, and opens it. “I’m getting wet.”

I can’t help but cock an eyebrow at her. “Just how wet are you?”

Her sexy mouth forms a perfect O, before she glances away, obviously flustered. “Wet enough to need to change.”

This is not helping at all. How in the hell am I supposed to calm down when she gives as good as she gets? Stalling for time, I become very fascinated with my cuff links as I mull over continuing with this line of flirting, or bringing things back to the way they were before we kissed.

“But if we walk to dinner instead of riding in your very nice car, I should be dry by the time we get there. It’s mostly my sweater that’s wet,” she adds, and I jerk my head up.

Everly’s gaze remains on something in the distance. Which means she’s embarrassed or she regrets what she said. Possibly both. Either way, it’s my job to put her at ease. “Your wet clothes won’t hurt my seats—they’re leather.”

“Leather is too expensive to ruin.”

“I wouldn’t buy a car I couldn’t use.”

Her emerald gaze flashes to mine. “So, you regularly have women with wet clothes sitting on the passenger side?”

I grin, then laugh, and her tight expression relaxes. “You win.

We’ll walk.” I hold out my elbow and she takes it, while thrusting the

umbrella higher in the air. I’d take it from her, but I need at least one hand free at all times.

As we walk down the tree-lined sidewalk, I take in the neighborhood that Everly calls home. Bordering the downtown district, bungalow-style homes with postage-stamp-sized yards dominate the landscape. Perfect for young families and those of retirement age—in other words, completely foreign to me.

I live in a high-rise apartment where no one speaks unless spoken to, but here people out and about nod at us when they pass. Most of the nods are accompanied with hellos and how-are-yous.

Everly and I walk in silence, until I realize I have no idea where we’re going. I made reservations at the best restaurant in the city, but it’s in the opposite direction.

“Did you have a specific place in mind for tonight?” I ask.

She turns, her perfume washing over me once more. “I do. I hope that’s okay.”

“Whatever the lady wants.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Sometimes, Roman, you are so hard to figure out. Well, make that all the time.”

“How so?” I want to know what she’s figured out about me, or what she believes she knows.

She stops and looks at me, then gestures for us to sit under a covered bus stop bench. After she’s seated and has stowed the umbrella to one side, I join her, uneasy at the thought of my back being so vulnerable. Anyone can walk behind the structure, put two bullets in my head, and end me.

“Like right now,” she points out. “You’ve gone all stiff. Your face is all tight, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were searching for an exit.”

“Not being able to see who’s behind me is a bit disconcerting. It makes me nervous.” Not a lie.

Her face softens, her hand coming to rest on my thigh. “Oh, you poor thing.” She shakes her head, lightly smacking herself in the forehead. “God, I’m so thoughtless. Of course you want to be able to see everything. Let’s go.”

Immediately, she stands up, but I tug her back down. “I’m fine.

Please continue.”

“Okay.” She blows out a nervous breath. “Our kiss. You and I—it’s pretty obvious we have chemistry, but something about me bothers you. Like every time we get closer to becoming more, you back away.

I don’t get it. I also don’t get why I keep coming back, ordering books that I could get cheaper and faster somewhere else.”

“Everly,” I begin, but she continues.

“Don’t say it. This date was a bad idea. The entire universe has been trying to tell me all day, but I wouldn’t listen. Our class for tonight was cancelled, because only three people signed up and a minimum of ten is required. Then I couldn’t get a reservation at The Fountain because they’re booked for months in advance, and then I was glad because I didn’t want you to think that I expected you to pay for our dinner. Originally, I asked you out, not the other way around, so I was going to pay. And then—” I press a finger to her lip. “I adore you.”

She blinks at me. “What?” she asks from behind my finger.

“Before you continue castigating yourself, let me do a little confessing of my own.” I take my hand from her tempting mouth.

“That chair, the one you love to read in—I purchased it just for you.

The jelly beans and hot chocolate—for you. I don’t have another customer who comes in each week and sits for hours, reading, eating, and drinking. I don’t have someone else who comes to my shop and genuinely enjoys my company.” With every word, I’m breaking off another piece of the wall of iron I’ve constructed around myself. I clench my hands into tight fists. “I wait to open your boxes until you come, so you’ll have to be there longer. If I thought it were possible, I’d have each book arrive on a separate day, just so you would have to come in more often.”

Everly’s eyes widen when I stop my monologue. Her mouth falls opens, and then closes.

Oh fuck me, I’ve ruined everything.

“I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” she sighs, her expression turning dreamy.

Male satisfaction roars at the knowledge that I put that look on her face. Me, alone. God help us both when I see the look on her face while she comes by my hand, my mouth, and my dick.

She loops her arm under mine and leans on me, head coming to rest on my shoulder. I smile a little. “By the way, what you said earlier about our kiss—I felt the exact same way.”

Tilting her head back, she looks up at me, all trusting and vulnerable. “What do we do now?”

Images of what I want to do to her flash behind my eyes. Every single one of them involves my dick in her pussy or mouth. Get to know her better first, you horny bastard, I berate myself. “Dinner.”

Disappointment shines in her eyes, and then disappears as she smiles brightly at me. She stands up first, pulling at my arm. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

* SHE LEADS US to a restored Victorian-era home. A cursory glance at the name and menu displayed outside on the porch reveals that it’s an Italian restaurant. The hostess greets us like we’re long-lost family, and then leads us to a private table in the back.

“For the lovers,” she says with a wink, making Everly blush a little. She hands us the menu before she walks away.

“Come here often?” I ask, scooting my chair a bit closer to hers.

Everly grins. “First time. My friend, Elle—she’s the director at the community center—recommended it. I can’t say no to pasta, and she knows it.”

A waitress stops by, taking our drink and entrée orders.

“How’s business?” I ask, feeling like a fool. I haven’t been on a proper date since…well, since… I inwardly frown. Have I ever been on a proper date?

Everly laughs. “Roman, you can ask me other things, you know. I promise I won’t be offended.”

“Very well.” I lean back in my chair, thankful that my seat is nearly flush to the wall. I can see everyone and everything. “What do

you like to do in your spare time?”

“Read romance novels and bug a certain bookseller.” Her eyes twinkle.

I shake my head. “You’re not a pest.”

The waitress brings us our drinks and replenishes the breadsticks, then leaves us once more.

“What do you like to do in your spare time?” Everly picks up her drink and takes a sip, gazing at me expectantly.

Clean my Glock, research upcoming targets, and work out like a madman. However, I can’t share that, can I? “I read, work out, keep up to date on the latest research, and occasionally visit my family.

What can I say—I’m a simple man with simple needs.”

“Who drives a not-so-simple car,” she points out.

“My one weakness.” Actually, she’s my weakness. The car is a toy, one that I can abandon at any time.

“I probably looked pretty dumb when I offered to set up an online bookstore for you, huh?” She grabs a breadstick and breaks it in half.

“Usually, people who drive Porsches and don’t worry about ruining leather seats have more money than they can shake a stick at.”

“Why would I shake a stick at money?” I ask, unfamiliar with the phrase.

“Ah…that wasn’t very nice of me,” she says, looking down at the table. “It means you have more money than you know what to do with.”

“I do have a lot of money.” And I’ve earned every damn penny of it. “But I know what to do with it—investments, real estate, and taking care of my mother. The car is for entertainment.”

“Taking care of your mother—of course you do,” she mutters.

“And now I feel like that much more of a jerk.” She chomps down on the bread and tears off a piece.

“You’re not a jerk.”

She gives me this yeah, right look while she chews.

“Okay, so you’re a compassionate jerk.” Everly sputters, bread flying all over the table and me. I flick the crumbs from my suit jacket. “First you insult me, and now you attack me with food.

Honestly, I’m starting to get worried what will happen next. Perhaps

you’ll accidentally spill your drink all over my head?” I grab the umbrella and open it, holding it like a shield. “You will not get the best of me.”

Everly bursts out laughing. She keeps laughing until tears run down her cheeks and the tension dissipates.

As the food runner delivers our entrées, he gives us a funny look, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Oh my gosh,” she finally says, twirling the pasta noodles around her fork. “That was the funniest thing ever. You should see yourself, holding that umbrella like a weapon. So ridiculous. I swear, Roman, any man who would take in an alley cat and put up with a woman hitting on him for months without banning her from his shop isn’t capable of hurting a fly.”

On one hand, I’m flattered she thinks so highly of me, but on the other… I quickly close the umbrella and tuck it behind her chair.

Then I pick up the steak knife from the table. The feel of the blade is off slightly, but I don’t let that stop me from balancing it on the pad of my thumb.

Child’s play.

I flip the blade up in the air and catch it, twirling it in my fingers before setting it down again. Then I make my gaze meet Everly’s, hoping to impress her, just a little. I can take care of myself, which means I can take care of her.

“I guess you don’t need self-defense classes either,” she says glumly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

Damn my pride to hell and back. I stand before she does, intent on helping her out of her chair, but she gives me another odd look, almost like she’s not expecting me to be there when she returns.

Deliberately holding her gaze, I sit down. “Don’t be too long; we need to make a decision about dessert—once we’re done eating the main course.”

She licks her lips, that odd look fading. That’s right, love. I’m not going anywhere, until you’re safe in bed—mine or yours. “I won’t be.”

Out of habit, I scan the room, searching for signs of danger.

Finding none, I scan the room again, then take a bite of bread and

drum my fingers on my thigh.

She returns a few moments later, gloss reapplied to her lips.

Automatically, I stand and hold out her chair.

“Thank you,” she says primly.

We eat in silence. Normally, I would be comfortable with silence, but I know her silence comes from a place of hurt.

“So, dessert. Here or somewhere else?”

Everly traces a pattern on the table, a sure sign of nerves. She wants something from me, but she is afraid to ask. “I baked something for you today. I thought we could have dessert at my place, but you don’t have to. I won’t force you to continue to be in my company.”

“You came to that conclusion while in the ladies’ room?” Clearly, she needs to be banned from going there ever again.

She nods. “This date…it’s not going right. It’s like we’re forcing the conversation.”

No, darling, I’m protecting you from the real me. From assassins who do a hell of a lot more than merely go bump in the night. “Do you have vodka?”

“Vodka?”

“Yes. All good conversations start with a shot of vodka.”

“Not where I’m from. All good conversations start with ‘Y’all aren’t going to believe this’.”

It wasn’t a no. “Perhaps we could combine the two and do it our own way.”

“I have no idea why I’m saying yes,” she mutters.

I take her hand in mine and lift it to my lips, kissing the soft skin.

“Because you can’t help yourself.”

A sharp intake of breath is her reply, before she says, “You can’t either.”

The truth, so simply spoken, nearly breaks me. She’s right. I can’t keep playing this game with her, but I have to keep her safe. To watch the light fade from Everly’s eyes, either by my hand or another, would slay me. For her to learn the truth of me is equally as reprehensible. But…I was basically ordered to be with her. Surely, that affords some sort of protection.

After our date tonight, I will contact Viktor and ask him point blank. He has always been honest with me, even when the truth was unbearable. After all, I’ll have to leave in a month, and perhaps I won’t return. I’ve lived here long enough that people are getting used to seeing me.

Though I hate to admit as much, it’s time to move on. Perhaps to the west coast. Would Everly miss me? Would she think of me? Or would she hate me?

None of that matters, because breaking Everly’s heart is one thing, but to be the one responsible for that heart never beating again…

I give her the one vulnerable truth I can allow. “No, love. I can’t help myself when it comes to you. We’re inevitable.”

Chapter Six THE WALK BACK to her place is uneventful, nothing but light traffic and spots of rain. A large truck passes us as we reach her front porch, tires splashing through dirty water. I grab Everly and whisk her out of the way, only to get soaked in the process.

“Thank you, but your poor suit!” She swipes at the water on my shoulders.

With water dripping from my head and onto my face, I let go of her and smile, running my hand through my hair. I can feel the grime on my scalp. “Good thing I brought a change of clothes.”

“You did? Oh, the class.”

“If you’ll allow me inside to change?”

She nods. “I’ll wait here for you while you grab your clothes.”

Dashing to my car, I press a button on my key fob. The trunk opens. I grab a black duffle bag and close the trunk, then jog back to her.

Everly digs her keys out of her purse. “Why don’t you take a shower while I wash your clothes?”

“My suit is dry clean only.”

She shakes her head. “Then I’ll have it cleaned. It’s the least I can do for you being such a gentleman and taking one for the team.” She fingers my shirt, and I tense up. “Shower and change, then we can drink vodka and you’ll finally relax around me.”

“I am relaxed,” I say, following her to the front door.

Everly snorts as she unlocks and opens it. There’s a light on inside. Automatically, I take a cursory glance around to inspect the place. Hardwood flooring with neutral-colored furniture offset by brightly colored rugs and pillows. It’s inviting and non-threatening.

The exact opposite of my flat.

Then again, Everly is the exact opposite of me.

“Sure would hate to see you tense.” She pauses in the middle of her tiny foyer and glances over her shoulder. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Feeling a bit foolish, I walk inside and shut the door behind me, then secure it before checking the street. My car is still there, parked in the same spot.

“It’s a nice neighborhood, Roman. No one will take your car.

Drool on it a little, sure, but other than that…” She touches my shoulder and I spin around, pinning her to the wall. One hand on her throat and the other behind me, on my Glock.

Panting in obvious fear, her eyes are wide. “Sorry,” she rasps. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Easing up on the pressure of her throat while letting go of my gun, I lower my forehead to hers. “Damn it. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, like she’s been out for a run, but I know what’s sending her heart into overdrive. Me. More precisely, terror that she’s invited a madman into her home. “You already took self-defense classes, didn’t you?”

A perfectly reasonable conclusion to justify and excuse my behavior. “Love, you… I… Yes.” “And you didn’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me the other day.”

“Hurting you is the last thing I want to do. I might as well cut off my hand or cut out my heart… You are undeserving of such pain.”

My façade is fading. The rhythm of my speech falling into a more familiar cadence.

Everly’s hand wraps around my wrist, gently tugging. I allow her to pull my hand away. I close my eyes and lift away from her slightly.

She lets go of me, but doesn’t move from her spot.

Cool air brushes my chest and I open my eyes, glancing down to see her small hands working on the buttons of my shirt.

“What are you doing?” I ask, though I know the answer. Or at least, I think I know the answer.

“Getting you out of these wet clothes.”

“My jacket is in the way.”

“Then take it off.” She leans forward, pressing a kiss to my chest, and I cup the back of her head.

“Don’t—” “Stop pushing me away.” She grazes her teeth over a nipple, and I bite back a curse.

“You didn’t let me finish,” I say, hooking a finger under her chin and forcing her gaze to mine. “Don’t. Stop.”

“My sweater’s still wet, too.” Then she goes back to pressing tiny kisses on my chest. I dig my fingers into her dark hair, taking out the pins holding it in place. Silky curls fall down and around her, like a curtain. I can’t see what she’s doing but bloody fucking hell, I can feel it.

I can feel her.

The hairpins fall to the floor, nearly silent plinks. I shrug out of my jacket, carefully concealing my gun in it as I ball the material up and toss it beside me. My fingers find the hem of her sweater and slowly edge it up. I’ve been waiting for this moment and want to take my time.

I slip my hands under the fabric, touching soft, silky skin. My hands glide up, learning the curves of her body as I go. Her stomach contracts and she gasps against me. The edge of her bra tempts me, and I give in, cupping her perfect breasts. With a moan, she arches her back, pressing her breasts more fully into the palms of my hands.

Her nipples harden into delicate points I want to taste.

Passing my thumbs across them, I tease her there until her moans echo around me.

“Roman, Roman, Roman,” she cries.

“What do you need?” I bury my face into the crook of her neck, sucking. Exploring. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” she gasps.

Sliding one hand down her body, away from her perfect breasts, I find the button of her trousers and undo them. “Is this what you need?” Slipping my hand inside, I groan at the feel. “You’re wet.” I slide a finger inside of her, where she’s hotter and tighter than any woman I’ve felt before. “Perfect.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she gasps, clenching my arms. Her nails dig into my shirt.

I stroke her with one finger, then add another, curling them and finding her sweet spot. She bucks against me.

“Oh God,” she whimpers.

I take her whimpers and moans into my mouth as I capture hers.

Our kisses grow frantic, greedy, as if we’ll never have this moment again. It occurs to me that we, in fact, might not ever have this chance again.

“Take off your sweater,” I order, my voice barely human sounding.

Her sweater goes up and over her head, revealing a lacy, black bra. I grip a cup and tug it down, then swoop in to take her dark pink nipple into my mouth. I suck and nibble and bite.

She tosses her head back and forth, lush mouth opening and closing. Her beautiful eyes open, and they’re glazed with lust and desire…and an emotion I don’t recognize.

I stop everything I’m doing. “Turn around and put your hands above your head, palms flat on the wall.”

“I’m so close,” she pouts, and I kiss her again. Hard and quick.

“Turn around, love.”

Ignoring me, she takes my hand and slips two fingers, the same two fingers that were inside of her, into her mouth, sucking off the honey that coats them. “Did you want a taste?”

“Sexy little thing, aren’t you?” I lean into her, watching as a blush steals up her neck and onto her face. “Are you normally so—” “Never.” Uncertainty enters the picture. “If you don’t like it, I can stop.”

I brush my mouth gently against hers, watching as her eyes flutter closed. “I like it very much.”

“Oh.” “Now, if you don’t mind…” I spin her around, taking her arms and placing them right where I want them. I tug her trousers over her curvy hips and down her shapely legs. The lacy thong is next to go.

Her thighs tense. “Roman?”

“Gorgeous,” I murmur, running my hand down the length of her back. She relaxes at my touch. “That ass, love. Very nice.” I kneel on

the floor behind her, sinking my teeth into her plump ass. She squeals, head turning to watch me. I smack the other cheek and grin.

“Turn around and bend over a little. I want to see you.”

Licking her lips, she does exactly as I ask, baring the most intimate part of her to the room. I lick her exposed pussy, making her jump and then moan. Plunging two fingers back inside of her, I begin to pump them in and out. Then I go right back to that sweetness and suck on her swollen clit, until she screams my name and comes all over my face.

I stay with her until the end, until her screams turn to moans, and then finally whimpers. I straighten, wiping my sleeve against my face. I’m hard and aching, not allowing myself to acknowledge how much I’ve wanted to fuck her since I walked through the door.

I unzip my pants and pull out my dick, stroking it a couple of times to ease the buildup. It does no good. A couple drops of pre-cum have already beaded up.

She turns, slightly stumbling as she kicks away her clothes. Her lips are swollen, her eyes are glazed, and her nipples are hard little points. Dark hair spills over her shoulders in waves. She rubs her thighs together, staring at my cock.

“Do you want more?” I run my hand over my dick, showing her how long and thick it is for her.

“I need you inside of me.”

Unable to resist her, I lift her in my arms, murmuring into her ear, “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

“Wait. Do you have protection?” she asks as my dick touches her pussy. I slide her against the hard length, watching as she coats me with her come. “Oh God. Roman…answer me before I do something stupid.”

“In just a minute, love.” I work the head of my cock in, and her inner muscles grab at me. The urge to plunge all the way inside rides me hard, so hard that I’m ready to throw all caution to the wind and take her with nothing between us. Something I’ve never done. “How long has it been?”

Her eyes open wide. “A few years.”

Gritting my teeth against the hot contact, I ask, “Why?”

“Bad experience.”

Red clouds my vision. “Did someone hurt you?”

I lock my muscles, holding her suspended between the wall and my body as I await her answer.

“It was my first time, so of course it hurt. After a few times, he found someone else. He said I was too inhibited for him.” Her eyes become focused. “That hurt worse.”

I press a kiss to her forehead. “Sounds like he didn’t know how to encourage his woman to be uninhibited. Good riddance.” Though who am I to say this, when I know without a doubt I will be leaving her soon.

To keep her safe.

That doesn’t make me any better.

Her lips tremble, and I let her legs slide to the ground, sliding free from her.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I’m this wild woman who takes guys home on the first date.”

I trace the curve of her jaw, ignoring my need to thrust inside of her again. “We don’t have to take this any further tonight.”

Delicate hands wrap around my erection, and I let out a hiss. “But you haven’t been satisfied yet.”

I pump my hips, letting her stroke me. “This is good.”

She wets her thumb and rubs it over the tip. I groan, taking her face between my hands and plunging my tongue into her mouth. She sucks on it, still stroking me. Reluctantly letting go of her face, I wrap my hand around hers and guide her movements, all the while kissing her.

I don’t stop until my orgasm barrels down on me. I shout her name, and then a curse as I come. As I collapse against her, she falls against the wall, unable to support my weight. I lean up slightly, bracing my arm against the wall instead of continuing to use her slight body as an anchor.

“So very messy for such a starchy bookseller,” she murmurs against my throat. I feel her kiss me, sweetly and gently.

Whoever the bastard is that hurt her, I will learn his name and hurt him back. “Shall we take this to the shower?” I ask.

She nods. “Can I wash you? I still haven’t gotten you all the way nude, and that’s a crying shame.”

I grunt. “My body is nothing like yours.”

“Praise the Lord and pass the sculpted abs for that.”

Somehow, I manage to get my shirt off and us mostly cleaned up.

Every so often, Everly treats me to a kiss on my neck, my chest, my jaw, or my lips. I allow her this, even as I grow uneasy. Even as I feel like I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.

My phone rings shrilly. I glance over at my coat. The screen of my phone lights up, and I can see the name.

Victoria. In actuality, it’s Viktor, but games must be played at all times in my line of work.

He would never call me, not unless I had to completely abandon my fake life. Something must have shown on my face, because Everly stops mid-kiss and says, “You can answer that if you need to.”

I glance back at the woman standing in front of me. Her face is pale as she looks at my coat. She can see the name.

“I do have to take this call.” I lean over and scoop up my phone.

“Please tell me you’re not married,” she says, misery in her voice.

“I’m not married. I’m single.” But not free. Never free. Then I answer the phone. “Victoria. It’s so nice to hear from you, but I’m on a date. So, unless you’ve found that edition of da Vinci’s Treatise on Muscular Development in the Modern Man, I’ll need to talk to you another time.” Jesus. I’m pulling everything out of my ass tonight.

“Roman,” the digitally altered voice purrs. “You know I wouldn’t call you unless what I had for you couldn’t wait. Time is of the essence.”

“But I have a former engagement.”

“That’s been cancelled.”

I frown.

Everly begins to walk away, but I reach out and capture a wrist, pulling her back to me. I wrap one arm around her, walking with her to the sofa in the living room and guiding her to sit on my lap. She curls against me, pulling the soft blanket hanging over the back over her luscious body.

“I’m all ears.”

A throaty laugh sets my teeth on edge. “You’ll have to be all eyes.

I’m sending you a text right now.”

Victor hangs up, and I grip the phone so tightly that I hear a little crack.

“Wow. She’s pushy,” Everly mutters.

Absently, I kiss the top of her head. “Love, run a bath for us.”

She gazes up at me, her brow wrinkling. “Instead of a shower?”

I give her my most wicked grin, slipping my free hand under the blanket and touching a bare thigh. “Trust me, love. I can be just as imaginative in the bath.”

Rising to her feet, she wraps the blanket tightly around her, as if she’s shy. “Don’t be too long.”

“Everly?”

She pauses in her walk. “Yes?” “You have a beautiful body.”

She bites her lip. “Thank you.”

“No. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

With one of her dreamy sighs, she shakes her head. “You are too much.”

My phone vibrates as she walks away. Tipping up the phone, I stare into the eyes of my next target.

Sebastian Romanov.

My half-brother.

Chapter Seven V: You’ve been invited to attend a charity function on the 14th.

FOR THE FIRST time in my life, I balk. I refuse to take this contract, because the one thing I know about Sebastian is that his hands are clean. He’s innocent.

Our father has made sure of it, even going as far as trying to ruin his youngest son’s career by spreading rumors and making unfortunate videos of youthful indiscretions go viral, in order to show just how bloody special Sebastian is.

Not that I begrudge Sebastian the attention; I truly don’t. I know what a monster Vladimir is, even compared to me. But at least I have direction, a purpose—I rid the world of scum while he is self-serving.

Behind me, at the back of the house, I can hear the water running and Everly bustling around. My one night of normalcy, of pure desire and lust, of want and need, is completely ruined.

Me: I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.

My mind races. The execution doesn’t have to be performed for three weeks, plenty of time to go to Grandfather’s and enlist his help.

There’s no way he would allow this if he knew. Family is everything to him.

V: And I’m afraid you have no other choice.

Me: My schedule doesn’t permit a trip at this time.

V: Such a shame. Enjoy your evening with Everly. I’m sorry to say that the nights grow short as winter approaches.

I suck in a breath, and my heart slams against my chest. Someone is threatening my woman and Viktor is warning me, which is far

more than is required. He’s putting his life on the line by doing this.

Petrov. That piece of shit is behind this, I know it. A brother for a brother. He has the means and the influence.

Me: On second thought, Everly and I would be honored to attend the charity function.

V: Excellent news. More information to follow.

Tossing my phone to one side, I consider my options. What in the hell can I say to Everly to get her to leave the country with me?

Especially last minute? Despite everything, she barely knows me as Roman Smith.

What will my grandfather say when I show up on his doorstep with her at my side?

Then a flash of inspiration hits me, and I rise to my feet, moving to the front door.

Chapter Eight Everly

TONIGHT WILL END up being the biggest mistake of my life, or the best thing I’ve ever done. I sink deeper into the water, letting the bubbles cover my chest. I know I have the biggest, silliest, dreamiest expression on my face.

Turning the faucet off with my toes, I sigh.

I can’t believe what we did, much less what I shared. Groaning, I let my head fall into my hands. Of course, I just had to mention Jared.

Way to project confidence, Everly.

My best friend, Elle, is always after me to be more confident.

She’s the one who kept pushing me not to give up on Roman. To go after him, even when he kept throwing roadblocks up. Looking back, I think the only reason I forgave him and tried again is that he would give me glimpses of the real him. A man so considerate and thoughtful that my toes curl just remembering the day I walked in and he’d ever so gruffly pointed out the chair I could sit in.

“A lady shouldn’t have to stand for hours on end.” Then he strode away, saying nothing more, not even when I waved good-bye an hour later.

He had merely nodded before turning his attention back to a book, studying the contents with a ferocious scowl.

Then that one day, when I’d forgotten my coat and found him on the floor, bleeding and helpless…I knew right then, I’d fallen for him.

I had it bad and still do.

As he lay bleeding in my lap while ordering me to check the bullet wounds for an exit hole, I wanted to cry and scream at the unfairness of it all. The thought of Roman dying, of never seeing him again, or hearing his sexy-as-hell accent, made me desperate. It made me lie in

order to be able to stay with him in the hospital. Abandoning him wasn’t an option.

As for tonight…nothing could have prepared me for what happened. For the way he stroked my body, the way he touched, licked, kissed, and took control. I was helpless in his arms, a willing slave to his tongue and fingers.

And apparently, I’m a jealous witch who jumps to conclusions when I have no right. Roman does have a business to run, and though I can’t imagine rare booksellers get many emergency calls, obviously it does happen.

But…I wanted him inside of me. I still do.

I hear the heavy thud of footsteps, and my body begins to tingle in anticipation. He’s coming, and hopefully he will make me come again.

Oh God. Please don’t let me say that out loud. I already say the dumbest things around him as it is.

The footsteps grow closer, and then fade. Lifting my head, I lean against the back of the tub and frown. What in the world is he doing out there?

Roman appears out of thin air, and I stifle a scream. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, the t-shirt fitting him perfectly, while cargo pants showcase his powerful thighs.

My eyes widen. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, but my grandfather is very ill. My uncle called a few minutes ago, right after Victoria.”

My stomach flips, then sinks to my toes as disappointment and sympathy rise to take its place. “If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll get my robe and walk you to the door to say good night.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Something sharp scrapes at my heart. Had he only gone out with me so that I would stop asking? Tears prick at the backs of my eyes, but I hold them at bay. I will not cry. I won’t. Every romantic word he’s ever said to me has all but disappeared from my memory.

I adore you.

Yeah, but not enough to stay.

“Well, thanks for tonight,” I mumble, though I really want to cuss him out for making up a story about his grandfather, of all people.

Roman sighs, pushing a hand through his short, dark hair. His glittering blue eyes take me in, and I want to hide. There’s something very disconcerting about a man, who is so incredibly gorgeous and sexy that he could have anyone, staring you down. I almost want to check my teeth for food.

“Everly,” he begins, and I really want to cry now. He so rarely says my name, and now he’s leaving. More likely than not, I’ll never see him again, because there’s no way I’ll ever go back to his shop.

That asshole. That beautiful, sexy asshole who made me come so hard that I saw stars and screamed his name like it was the second coming. Actually, for me it was the first coming, since Jared sucked as a lover.

Oh God, I’m totally going to hell for being blasphemous.

“I want you to come with me.”

“Huh?” “I know this might be a bit out of the ordinary, but my uncle said Grandfather wanted to meet the woman who saved his grandson’s life before the sickness took him. It’s his last request,” Roman says.

He looks away, obviously overcome with emotion. “Please, Everly. It would mean a lot, but if you don’t want to, or can’t because you don’t have a passport, then I understand.”

He’s not lying. Holy crap, he’s not lying. Then again, has Roman ever lied to me? He’s been blunt, sometimes hurtful, but more often than not, he’s been thoughtful, kind, and sweet. Yes, sweet. What other kind of man would take in a stray cat?

“I have a passport.”

He jerks his head around, blue eyes blazing. “Does this mean you’ll come with me?”

“I’d be honored to come with you.” If this is a dream, then please don’t wake me up. This sexy, sophisticated man is going to take me to… I wrinkle my nose. “Where are we going?”

He places a bag on the counter. It’s the one he brought with him earlier. “Russia.”

“Are you joking?” A nervous laugh bubbles up. What am I thinking? This is crazy. I’m crazy. Roman could be a serial killer for all I know. “I don’t think—” “There is also a charity event I’ve been asked to attend. It’s very well known. Tons of press and celebrities,” he adds, as if reading my thoughts.

Because serial killers bring their next victims as their dates to very public and apparently famous events. Geez, Everly, get it together. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Go. For. It. I stand up, excited and nervous as anything. “Oh my gosh! I have so much to pack.” I grab the nearest towel and bend over to let the water out of the tub.

Roman mutters a curse, and I turn to see him staring at me with more than a little interest. Lust is obvious in his gaze, and it makes me feel so womanly and sexy that I allow myself to put on a little show for him by slowly standing.

Suddenly, he crosses the small distance between us and hauls me out of the tub, careful not to drop me. “As sexy as you look right now, we really need to get you packed.”

“Right this second? But I have to buy tickets and—” “I don’t think you understand the urgency,” he says roughly, his big hands on my arms as he sets me on my feet.

I feel so dainty next to him. At the hospital, I’d sneaked a peek at his stats: twenty-seven years old, six foot two, and two hundred pounds of lean, lickable muscles. Okay, so I added on that last part, but it’s clear he works out. A lot.

I shiver, but not in fear. I want his hands all over me again. I want him.

“Stop looking at me with so much hunger in your eyes. We have to leave.”

A strange feeling washes over me. Something doesn’t seem quite right. Roman is too…anxious and insistent. Then again, his grandfather is sick, possibly dying. That would make anyone act a little off.

“Let me call my parents to let them know where I’m going.” I dash into my room, pulling out my suitcase, and then start to get dressed. I throw on a pair of comfy jeans and a thick sweater after shimmying into my bra and panties. Then I grab a pair of thick socks and my favorite boots. “What’s the weather like? Duh, it has to be cold; it’s Russia, Everly,” I remind myself.

Roman frowned. “Forget packing. You can call your parents on the way.”

I freeze in the middle of pulling on my boots. “Forget packing?”

“Yes, get your passport, your purse, and anything else you can’t live without. The rest I’ll purchase for you in Russia.”

I stare at him, like he’s suddenly turned into someone I don’t know. Actually, I don’t know him. Not really.

His expression softens, and he holds out his hand. “Trust me, love. I’ll take very good care of you. Come with me.”

My body thaws by slow degrees, and I finally finish pulling on my last boot. I look at his hand, still uncertain.

Then I take it.

Chapter Nine Roman

MY NAME IS Roman Smith, and I’m an assassin. I only kill the scum of the earth, never taking an innocent life.

I shake my head in utter disgust. Still a lie.

My name is Nikolai Romanov, and I’m an assassin. I was barely sixteen years old the first time I killed a man. I hadn’t wanted to take his life, yet I wanted to please my grandfather and father.

Actually, more than anything, I wanted to please my mentor, Viktor Chapeyev. It was under his tutelage that I learned how to take a life with precision and finesse. I learned how to be cold, calculating, and take my emotions—guilt and self-loathing—out of the equation.

“Only the dead have time for guilt, Nikolai.”

Better¸ but I’m still reprehensible, and Everly—the woman constantly in my thoughts—still has to be kept in the dark.

“What’s wrong with your grandfather?”

Everly’s gentle question jolts me back to the present. I focus on my lap, where our fingers are laced together. Her skin is soft and delicate. A pale gold that I’ve tasted.

I’ve almost taken her. Almost made her completely mine.

Only my bitter self-control keeps me from doing so now. We have been in the air for less than an hour, but it feels like an eternity.

She lies so trustingly against me as the private jet flies toward Paris. We will refuel there, before landing in Moscow. Then, we’ll proceed to my grandfather’s house.

Her trust is obscene. The way her body relaxes into mine repulses any decency left inside of me.

I don’t deserve it. Barely six months ago, when she first walked into my bookstore, I nearly put a bullet into her head. By design, my

shop isn’t welcoming. It isn’t for the general public, because it’s a façade for my real business.

The hint of a tattoo peeks from under my shirtsleeve. Each tattoo represents a job I’ve done. Not a job—a person I’ve murdered.

Know thy enemy. Sun Tzu said this in The Art of War. But the men and women I killed were not my enemies. I am merely the weapon of destruction set into motion by the financier.

Letting go of her hand, I stand up and begin to pace. Normally, I have a purpose to my walk. Normally, I wouldn’t have Everly on a plane. Normally, I wouldn’t have a damn thing to do with her.

She looks at me, so many questions in her bright emerald gaze.

“We don’t have to talk about him.”

The genuine concern she has for my feelings is yet another reason why I never should have asked her to travel with me. Our relationship is built upon lies.

But this is the only way I know how to protect her. The alternative —her death—is not acceptable.

If only I hadn’t been put in this position by being forced to kill Petrov’s brother. If only I had never allowed my weakness for Everly to show. If only I had never been ordered to take her out on a date.

A bloody date that ruined everything.

“My grandfather,” I begin slowly, “will be very pleased to meet you.” In fact, he will. He’ll also be hale and hearty—not a man on the edge of death, with a last request to meet the woman who saved my life from a robbery gone bad, like I’ve told Everly.

Her answering smile warms me a little. “I can’t wait to meet him.

What he’s like?”

Manipulative, powerful, murderous, generous, caring, and all about family. A twisted mix if there ever were one. “Like other grandfathers, I suppose.”

Her eyes follow me. “Are you close to him?”

“He’s like a father to me,” I admit. “He raised me.”

Everly’s brow wrinkles. “But you said you helped your mother—” I slash my hand through the air. “She brought me to him when I was a child.”

“And then she left you?” She frowns.

I stop in the middle of the cabin, thinking of the day my mother had abandoned me at the Romanov compound. There had been tears in her eyes.

“This will be better for you, Kolya. You will get the life you deserve,” she whispers in my ear.

I can’t imagine she wanted this kind of life for me. A life surrounded by riches, beautiful women, and violence. I kill people for a living, for God’s sake.

But in the end, I know the truth…

“She did what was best for me.”

As if sensing my need to change the subject, she smiles brightly and says, “Is this your plane? I forgot to ask.”

Before I can answer, the jet drops and the pilot’s voice fills the interior of the cabin. “Mr. Smith, you and your guest need to buckle up. We’ve hit a patch of thunderstorms. It’s going to be a bit rough for the next hour.” The jet drops again and again, as if to prove his words true. I grab on to the back of the sofa, barely maintaining my balance.

My stomach rises and falls right along with the turbulence.

I turn, intent on sitting close to Everly in case she becomes frightened or needs me in some way. I can’t help myself, even when I’m trying to do the right thing by distancing myself from her.

Everly shoots to her feet, bumping into me. Her face is a pale shade of green. The jet drops again, and she slams her hand over her mouth.

Without saying a word, I immediately take her by the arm and lead her to the nearest bathroom. She lurches inside, slamming the door behind her.

I lean against the opposite wall, fighting to stay upright while wondering if there is anything on board to calm her stomach. I ring for the cabin attendant.

He appears in no time, and after I explain Everly’s problem, he quickly obtains a glass of water and some pills. “It will settle her stomach and make her drowsy. I’m sure the pilot won’t mind if you take her into one of the bedrooms.”

It doesn’t matter if the pilot minds or not. The damned jet belongs to me, and Everly’s needs are my highest priority.

As if on cue, the door opens and she stumbles out. Her face has gone from green to white, her eyes huge. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“I’ve never been in turbulence like this.”

“Don’t apologize.” I hold out the pills. “Take these, and then we’ll get you settled in bed.”

She takes a deep breath and then swallows the pills, chasing them down with the water. I take the glass and hand it to the attendant before leading her to the bedroom across the hall. Gently, I ease her onto the bed.

Her eyes close as I remove her shoes and socks. “Any better?” I ask.

“Not sure.” She shrugs helplessly. “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course.” I toe off my shoes and join her on the bed, careful not to bounce her around.

Another deep breath leaves her as I touch her face. “Lights on or off?”

“Leave them off.”

The attendant gently shuts the door, and the room goes dark, the small windows offering no light. Everly rolls into me, her face pressing against my chest.

“I bet this isn’t how you thought our night would end,” she says softly.

I run my hand down her back, and then back up again. “I don’t know about that. We are in bed together.”

I can feel her smile. “I like it when you tease me.”

“Because I do it so often,” I point out.

“That’s what makes it special. It’s what makes you special to me,” she says and my heart beats funny. I’ve never been special to anyone in my entire life.

The jet shakes, but mercifully, it does not drop. Everly tenses, and I keep stroking her back, working my way under her sweater and undoing the back clasp of her bra. God, the way she feels under my palm—so soft.

Mine.

She feels like mine.

I banish the thought away and concentrate on what I can do for her. “Do you need assistance to the—?”

“I’m fine,” she says. However, the tightness in her body has transferred to her voice. “If I breathe through my nose, I won’t puke again.”

She begins to shake, and I press a kiss into her hair. “Relax, solnyshko. Relax.”

“Solnyshko?”

Damn. I hadn’t meant to let that slip. My nickname for her was to remain private. “It’s Russian for sunshine. My little sunshine.”

“Kind of like the song?”

“There’s a song?” I ask. My knowledge of American pop culture is sorely lacking.

She laughs a little. “There’s always a song.”

I consider this. “When you feel better, you can sing it to me.”

“When I feel better, you can sing it to me,” she counters.

With a grunt, I reply, “I don’t sing.”

“You will for me.”

Yes, for her, I would. “Perhaps.”

Her fingers travel up my chest to touch my face. “You don’t have to, Roman. You know that, right? I’d never ask you to embarrass yourself for me.”

“I thought we were teasing one another,” I say lightly, though everything inside of me wants to take her away from all of this.

Everything inside of me is screaming for me to tell the pilot to take us anywhere but to my grandfather.

“We are,” she says, her voice adorably sleepy. “It’s unbelievable, but we are.” She blows out a breath. “I can’t wait to meet your family, Roman.”

I can, for a thousand years if necessary. I wish she wasn’t meeting them at all. “Are you getting drowsy, love?”

“A little, but don’t stop teasing. Don’t stop talking,” she says, her voice full of affection I could never earn.

Once more, I press a kiss to the top of her head and begin to speak of my grandfather’s home, of the horses he raises, and the

massive hounds that have run the place. Of the food and the rich land that surrounds his estate.

Despite the easy flow of my words, a sort of dread settles within the pit of my gut. I know, without a doubt, that Everly and I are heading toward death.

But whose death is the question.

My half-brother, mine…or worse, Everly’s.

Chapter Ten

BY THE TIME we land in Paris, Everly is sleeping soundly. She’s curled up around me, her legs tangled in mine.

Although I know it is futile, I wish for mornings like this.

This is the hardest part of getting involved with Everly, because now I know the feel and taste of her. I know her. Before, I only knew her scent and smile, not her inner thoughts. Only what she chose to share with me each Wednesday.

When she is safe, and I leave her, I know what misery awaits. The bleakness and emptiness that will consume my soul without the sunshine she provides.

I take a sustaining breath, drawing in her scent.

It’s a pity the room remained shrouded in darkness during our flight, because I would have liked to watch her sleep. I would have enjoyed memorizing the way she looked while dreaming.

Perhaps she is still dreaming. Perhaps she dreams of me, of our time together, and what happened between us, before we were so rudely interrupted.

My dick grows hard at the memory of her perfect breasts, her hand stroking me, and her intoxicating kisses. With a grimace, I adjust myself and endure my painfully hard erection.

In any case, I allowed myself to sleep for a short period of time. It has to be enough for what we’ll face once we’re at my grandfather’s.

He is not one to tolerate surprises, not even from a favorite grandson, though he has a taste for beautiful women. The one lying in my arms certainly fits the description, but more than that, she’s beautiful on the inside.

So, there is a chance that he might allow us to come through the heavily guarded gates and into the house unharmed.

As I rub my eyes, it hits me. Vladimir—my father—needs to be told as well. Perhaps I should meet with him, before we travel to my

grandfather’s. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I send him a text, asking to meet.

Everly burrows into me, her cold nose pressing into my neck.

With a thick exhale, I extricate myself, leaving the warmth of her embrace to put on my shoes, and check the cabin. My Glock is secure under my shirt, in the waistband of my trousers, and I feel a modicum of security.

The main cabin is empty, and the door to the plane wide open for us to disembark to a private lounge for drinks and food, if we so desire.

The fine hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I carefully pull out my gun.

“Nikolai,” Viktor says as he walks inside, arms loosely hanging by his sides. “How fortuitous to run into you in Paris.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I keep my gun visible. Judging

by Viktor’s stance and words, he is here to relay a message, not to be on my side. It is the way of things in our world. “You have information for me?”

Nodding once, he scans the room. His dark gaze notes the purse Everly left behind. “Where is she?”

“In bed.” I take a step to the right, fully blocking his view of the hallway that leads to her and refusing to say more.

“An assassin is quiet in all things, Nikolai. He allows his prey to spill his secrets before he drains him.” My grandfather looks upon me with pride, and then at the body on the floor, blood forming a grotesque halo around the head. “Brilliant work, Kolya.”

Is Viktor my prey?

Viktor mutters a curse. “Those who desire your services sent me to check on you. To make sure that Ms. Andrews is with you, and you are agreeable to their terms.”

Cold dread digs deeper inside of me. “First, I’m taking her to meet Grandfather.”

“You can’t get out of this. Not even the great Dmitri Romanov can save your half-brother,” Victor assures me.

Perhaps he can’t. Or he will refuse to do so. But it’s worth a shot to find out if he knows a hit has been placed on his grandson. It’s

worth risking everything to get his help, if it means that Everly remains alive.

I slash a hand through the air. “Blyad. It was the only way I could get her to come.”

Viktor laughs. “An old-fashioned abduction too good for you?”

“After we’d been seen by half the city walking around her neighborhood, and then eating in a popular restaurant—yes.”

Viktor runs a hand along the wood grain on the interior walls of the cabin, his gaze on me. His mouth twists a little. “How is Ms. Andrews feeling?”

Feeling? Oh, fuck me. The attendant had produced the pills she’d needed a little too quickly, but I had allowed my concern to override my natural distrust.

“What did you do?” I start for the bedroom, but Viktor catches me by the arm, twisting it behind my back. Sharp pain radiates from my shoulder, as if I’ve been shot once again.

“I did my job.”

There’s a pinch in my neck, and I go lax. The room spins. I close my eyes to stop it.

Viktor’s voice is barely audible as he says, “Now do yours before Ms. Andrews is killed.”

My body becomes light, insubstantial, like I’m made of air. My cheek connects with the carpet, a jarring surprise. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I force them to focus on Viktor. He’s bent over me, his face impassive.

“You have two weeks,” he says, straightening.

My world goes dark.

* I WAKE UP with a start and a sharp intake of air. The room is cold and warm at the same time. Rubbing my eyes, I force them open, startled to find myself in a bedroom. In bed.

My clothes are missing and my head hurts like a bitch, but I’m otherwise fine.

However, none of that matters.

“Everly,” I whisper, grabbing the covers. I have to find her. I have to— “What time is it?” a groggy voice asks.

I freeze, then turn my head. I blink and then blink again.

“Everly,” I choke out, and then pounce on her, turning her face this way and that. I search her beautiful face, her pretty eyes, and glowing skin to make sure she’s real.

You’re not dead. “You can’t be real.” Relief fills me, and I want to kiss her. I want to press her down into the mattress and have my way with her. But I can’t. Instead, I sit back on my legs, scrubbing my face with the heel of my hand.

A smile curves her lips. “I’m real.” Her gaze flicks down my body, to where I’m straddling her legs, and then back up again. “Nice pajamas.”

Reaching out, I touch the lace of her bra, and then trail my fingers down her body to the panties that match. She sucks in a breath, her stomach contracting. She’s a vision in pink and white lace. I swallow.

Hard. “Very real,” I murmur.

“Where are we?” she asks, leaning up on her elbows. Her round breasts bounce with the movement. “I don’t really remember that much about last night, once I passed out. I mean, I vaguely remember riding in the car to the hotel and changing into this, but that’s about it.”

Cursing myself for a fool, I can only send up a prayer of thanks that she’s unharmed.

“Not that I really care right now, because you’re naked,” Everly says, pulling me out of my head. The tips of her fingers touch my bare thigh.

She is nearly nude; only the thin barrier of her lingerie separates us.

“Does my state of undress bother you?”

Her cheeks turn pink. “Nope.”

This is insane. I should get out of bed and check our surroundings, find out where the hell we are, and get Everly to safety.

Her hand wraps around my cock and I jolt as if she’d struck me with lightning. A groan slips past my lips.

“Stay in bed with me, Roman,” she says, beginning a leisurely stroke down my shaft. “I feel much better today.”

Get out of bed, you bloody arsehole.

Instead of leaving, I thrust my hips forward, wanting more.

Wanting her to fist me harder. “Love, I—” She runs her tongue over her lips, and I grab her by the shoulders, pulling her to me. “You are playing a dangerous game.”

Her emerald gaze darkens. “Show me.”

I push her back down and slowly tug her panties off, placing my hand over her mound of dark curls. Dipping two fingers inside, I stroke her until her eyes close.

“Open,” I order.

Her lashes flutter open, and I smile. “You are beautiful.” And alive.

She runs her gaze over my body. “And you are sexy,” she says.

“Who knew you were hiding all this under those suits?”

I stretch out beside her without interrupting the rhythm of my fingers. “So perfect.” I kiss the swell of the breast closest to me.

“Soft.” I run my tongue down the side. Gripping the lace with my teeth, I give it a light tug. Her breast pops free, nipple hardening as it is exposed to the cold air. I cover it with my mouth, sucking and licking while she moans and writhes on the bed.

“Not like last time,” she says, suddenly sitting up and dislodging my fingers.

I’m completely taken by surprise by her actions. So taken, that she’s straddling my lap and reaching behind her before I can react.

Her bra falls to her elbows. She pulls it off the rest of the way, then throws it behind her.

As she leans down, her hair creates an intimate curtain. “You are beautiful.” She kisses my lips. “Hard.” She grinds against me, and I reach up to grab her hips. “So perfect.”

She bites one of my nipples, and I growl. “Careful.”

Peering through her black lashes at me, her eyes sparkle with mischief. “You like it rough.”

“Not this time.”

She frowns and sits up. I scoot back to the headboard and do the same, but instead of a frown, I try to give her a tender look. It’s not an easy thing to do, because, for me, tenderness is an alien emotion.

Cupping the back of her neck, I bring her to me. “Kiss me, Everly.”

Obviously confused, she hesitates, but as a man trained in patience, her hesitation doesn’t bother me.

“Don’t be shy,” I say, trying to coax her closer. “I won’t bite…this time.”

Lush lips curving into a smile, she lowers her mouth to mine. Her fingers delve into my hair, flexing as she finds purchase there. “Do you have protection?”

I lean back slightly. I know what I packed, but the whereabouts of said bag—no clue. “Yes, but I have no idea where my bag is at the moment.”

“It’s okay, my purse is right beside us.” She leans to one side and produces a condom. “I bought this in the airport when you were talking with the pilot.”

I arch a brow. “Only one?”

Her cheeks flush pink. “Two boxes.”

Such a sexy combination of boldness and timidity. “Hopefully, it will be enough.”

Her eyes widen. “You have the wickedest look on your face right now.”

“Scared?” I ask as she hands me the condom. I take it out of the package and roll it over my hard length.

“Excited.” She rises up on her knees. “I’ve been waiting for months to do this with you.”

I grab my cock and guide it inside of her, grasping it firmly while she sinks down. She wriggles her hips, making a little helpless noise before I take pity on her and grab her hips, while simultaneously thrusting upward. She’s slick, taking me to the hilt.

Now I’m the one who’s helpless. I’m inside of her, joined in the most intimate of ways. For a moment, all I can do is sit there, my cock throbbing with every pump of my heart.

“Oh God.” She falls against me, her neck arching as I kiss it.

“You’re so deep.”

“You’re so tight. So fucking tight and hot.” Her inner muscles squeeze around me and suddenly, I’m on the verge of coming.

“Move, love. Move, baby. I can’t… I haven’t. Months, solnyshko.”

“Only me?” she asks. “No one else?”

She’s not asking if I’m a virgin. “Only you. No one else could come close. I wouldn’t let them. It’s like wanting a fire to light the sky after you’ve witnessed the sunrise.”

“My Roman,” she breathes.

“I am yours.” Until my last breath, I am hers.

She begins to move, her hips undulating in ways that make my eyes water. “That’s it,” I say, encouraging her to go faster.

Her breasts bounce in my face, and I capture a pert nipple in my mouth, sucking hard. She moves faster upon me, slamming her hips down and making the bed creak.

But it’s not enough. I want more.

I roll her to her back, grab her hips and pull them against me.

Slowing my thrusts, I stroke her with infinite care and precision. This will last. I will last.

I cup her face, dusting my thumb over her jaw and then her lips.

She looks up at me, eyes shining with…with… I close my eyes, not wanting to know the truth, because this—making love—means something to her. It’s not a means to an end, or merely a pleasurable physical act.

Everything this woman does is with her entire heart. But I can’t dwell on that. I can’t allow myself to accept that I’m special to her in any way.

Instead, I concentrate on how she feels beneath me, how she feels around me. She’s an exquisite torment to my soul. I have made her mine. She willingly surrenders to me. Yet, my future…our future is like writing in the sand, blown away by an unseen wind or by a crashing wave.

A possessive kiss drags me out my head. Everly slants her mouth over mine and flicks her tongue inside. I groan.

Her thighs tighten, as does the rest of her body. I slip my hand between us and rub her clit hard. She cries out, her body a perfectly erotic arc.

Scant seconds later, I join her, pouring everything into her, until my head drops to the pillow beside her.

We lie there, still joined, our hearts beating frantically, but as one. She presses kisses to the side of my neck, like she’d done after making me come before.

I feel her arms come around me, holding me tight, as if I’m about to leave. We lie there for minutes, perhaps hours, before I can speak again.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I murmur.

“Why is that?” she asks as I raise my head. She pushes back the hair that is plastered to my forehead.

“Bad dream.”

“You poor thing.” She kisses me softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Not yet, you’re not. I shove the thought away. “How about a shower?”

“Only if you take one with me. I have got to get my hands on this body.” She sighs lustily. “Roman, you’re like a work of art. You have all the right equipment to make me forget my name.”

“My body is yours.” When I pull out of her, I notice her slight wince. I feel more than a little satisfied at her expression. I rake my gaze down her curvaceous figure. “But only if yours belong to me.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you’ve been with much prettier—” I cover her mouth with my hand. “Say ‘yes, Roman’.”

Mutiny enters her gaze, and she opens her mouth slightly. I think she intends to bite me. Something I’m not opposed to in the least, but right now…

“Can’t you see how bloody alluring you are? You’re my very own Aphrodite.” Her gaze softens, and I lift my hand away. “Did you not feel how hard you made me? I’m not some green lad with a constant hard-on because my trousers rub me the right way, or because a pretty woman walks by. It takes more than that. You are more than that. Do you understand?”

She nods and finally says what I want to hear. “Yes, Roman.”

“Brilliant.” I swing my legs over the bed and stand up, fighting off a touch of vertigo. Jesus. What did Viktor give us?

“Let’s get in the shower.” I hold out my hand.

She eyes me for a second, and then she takes it.

Chapter Eleven EMERGING

shower, I towel off and gather my clothes, checking my pockets and my black bag sitting on a table by the window before dressing. Everything is as it should be. My weapons, my passports, and my money are all there.

“Hey there.” Everly’s arms come around my waist.

I tense, my body ready to fight the unknown.

“It’s just me,” she says as if reading my mind.

Turning in her embrace, I lift her chin and press a kiss to her mouth. “Ready to eat?”

“Starving,” she says against my lips. “You really know how to make a girl work up an appetite.”

“Consider it a perk.”

Smiling, she pulls away. “Thank you for asking me to come with you. I was really nervous at first, but this is turning out to be a lot of fun.”

I raise a brow. “Just fun?”

She blushes charmingly, as usual. “Erotic fun?”

“Much better.” Perhaps this is how I can distract her. Keep her mostly in bed for the next two weeks and she’ll never know what’s happening beyond these walls. It’s deceptive and perhaps more than a little underhanded, but I want her in my bed, and I want her safe.

“After we eat, did you want to go see your grandfather?” she asks.

Tilting my head, I study her. “Sorry?”

“Your grandfather—the one who’s sick,” she says slowly. “You said he’d been transferred to a hospital here, because they specialized in what’s ailing him.”

I did? “Ah, yes, sorry. Making love to you made me forget my reason for being here.”

Bemused, she shakes her head. “Look, I’m ready whenever you are. But…maybe in the meantime, we could buy more clothes, FROM THE

because I’m wearing my last set of clean ones.”

“Of course.” I had told her I would buy more clothes for her, since we had to pack in such a hurry to come here. “After we eat, we’ll go straightaway.”

She releases me and goes to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

I watch her as she brushes her hair and dabs lip gloss on with her pinky finger. Just those simple acts make me exhale in pleasure.

I turn away, knowing I don’t deserve the pleasure she brings me.

“My Roman,” she breathes, while I’m deep inside of her.

Mercilessly, I shove the memory away and concentrate on my surroundings, something I should have done hours ago. Carefully, I pull the curtains aside and peer out.

At first, like a drunk man becoming sober, I don’t recognize the buildings or the river running past the hotel, or the cobblestone street, and I have to take a deep, sustaining breath.

I look again, the beat of my heart steadying as I realize where we are.

Hotel Pariz, Prague, in the Tower suite.

A black Mercedes pulls up to the curb. The driver opens the door and two men, both tall and blond, step out. I clench my jaw as one of them glances upward.

Sebastian Romanov.

I check my mobile. There’s still no answer from Vladimir. So I text him again, while watching him walk to the hotel entrance with my brother—In Prague. Urgent.—and then toss my phone on the bed.

While Everly hums as she moves around the room, I track my target. Sebastian and our father seem comfortable with one another.

I am not envious of Sebastian. I don’t feel anything at all toward him.

The last time I spoke to Vladimir was over two years ago, and it was cordial more than anything else.

He knows I don’t care about reclaiming our lost years together. I have no desire to make peace, because I’m not at war with him in the first place. I accept my father for who he is, for who he will never be, and stay the hell away.

I doubt Sebastian feels the same way or has the opportunity to feel the same way. Our younger brother, Christian, is the exception.

He uses every opportunity to tell Vladimir to sod off—until recently, that is. Love is funny like that, and, by all accounts, Christian is very much in love with his wife.

Now that, I envy—the freedom to love and be loved in return. The freedom to move anywhere you want and settle down, without fear of reprisal from an organization that rarely allows its members to leave alive.

Could I leave? I’ve never thought of it before. I glance back at Everly. She smiles at me and shrugs into her coat, lifting her hair up and out. It falls around her shoulders in soft waves.

Before her, I never had a reason to leave.

* WE STOP AT the entrance to a rather dingy-looking cafe. She gives me an odd look. “You want to eat lunch here?”

“You will love the food.” Honestly, I have no idea if she will love the food or not, but Vladimir and Sebastian are across the street, dining outside, where anyone could come by and blow off their heads. People would scream and cause a big commotion, but no one would see enough to tell the authorities. No one ever does.

“That place looks more…inviting. We can sit outside,” she says, already pulling on my arm.

“No. I prefer this bistro.” It’s quiet, without much traffic, even at dinnertime. The tables by the window would provide just the right amount of cover and view of my half-brother and father.

Viktor would expect me to do this. Normally, I would do this. I learn my targets’ habits—where they eat, where they sleep, and who they screw.

It’s all carefully choreographed, you see, much like the steps I’m trying to teach Everly without her knowing there’s a dance at all.

Everly sighs, longing in her eyes as she gives the restaurant across the street one last look. “Fine.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I dip my head to whisper in her ear, “I promise to make it up to you when we get back to the hotel room.” I bite her lobe and then suck.

She gasps and angles her head slightly. “You’d better.”

Reluctantly, I let her go and open the door. We walk inside, and thankfully, the interior does not match the exterior.

“It’s so pretty in here!” Everly exclaims.

Paintings hang on every available surface, while small vases of flowers adorn each table. White lace tablecloths cover them, and chairs made of a light-colored wood are ready for customers.

“We would like a table with a view of the street,” I say.

“Yes, sir,” the hostess murmurs.

She leads us to a table by the window, and I pull out a chair for Everly. After she sits, I take my spot of choice, with my back against the wall.

Everly looks at her menu, her brow furrowing. “I need some help reading the menu, or I’m going to end up ordering goat butt.”

“Goat butt is in season this time of year,” I say, reaching out to grab her chair and pull it closer to me.

She flicks her gaze to me and slides closer. “Is it?”

“That’s what it says on the menu.”

Her gaze narrows, and she shakes the menu at me. “Don’t get between a woman and her food.”

The server appears, and I order for the two of us. Everly’s eyes have narrowed into slits. The little witch doesn’t trust me to order her food, but she trusts me to take her on a trip halfway around the world? Women…

I grab her wrist and take the menu away, handing it to the server.

Her wrist is so delicate, but she has such power over me that it can bring me to my knees. I brush my mouth over the knuckles of her hand. “I could dine on you.”

Her lashes flutter. “I think you ate enough earlier.”

With a grin, I slide the tip of one finger across my bottom lip. “I still haven’t had my fill of you. In fact, I think some room service is in order—dessert only. I have the urge to paint your nipples with ice cream and—”

“Can I paint you, too?” she asks, giving me pause.

“You want to lick ice cream off me?”

Biting her lip, she nods. “You can’t be the only one having all the fun.”

“I like that you’ve decided not to be so reserved with me,” I say.

Everly blushes to the roots of her hair. “You remember our conversation about that?”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” I cover her hand with mine. “Actually, I find it charming. I find you charming. If you want to be reserved, I’m happy to coax you out of your shell. If you want to be wild, then I’m happy to bend you over my knee—” “Roman,” she warns, looking around, but happiness is apparent on her face. “Our food is coming.”

As our dinner is placed on the table, I dip my head in acknowledgement of Everly’s unspoken wishes. “I’ll eat now.”

“My red face thanks you,” she says, and I can’t help but smile.

Across the street, Viktor appears suddenly, his white-blond hair hard to miss, and sits with Sebastian and Vladimir.

I nearly choke on my potato dumpling. Tell them, I want to shout.

But Viktor will not. Like me, he is nothing but an instrument of destruction and once set into motion, nothing can stop him. Except for my grandfather. He’s my only hope.

“Roman? Are you okay?” Everly asks.

I turn my attention to her. Concern is etched on her face. I am not okay. I’m fucking furious at this helpless feeling that has invaded my body, but there’s nothing I can do right now. Except lie.

Forcing a smile, I say, “I’m thinking of tonight. Of whether or not I should tie you to the bed or simply fuck you against the door. You’ll have to be quiet, or everyone will hear you scream. The doors aren’t soundproof.” That is not a lie. I have been thinking about being inside of her again, but it was in the back of my mind.

Her eyes widen, and then she glances away. “How about both?”

“Can you be very quiet, Everly?” I ask, warming up to this sort of distraction.

“I don’t know,” she says, peering at me through her lashes. “I’ve never tried before.”

“Looks like I’m tying you to the bed, then.”

“Are you going to be so…” Her throat works. “…honest during our entire trip?”

Acid coats my insides. I’ve never been completely honest with her, but in this…I can be. “Yes.” She blows out a breath. “Good.”

“You’re not offended?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

Everly rolls her eyes in that playful way I’ve come to recognize.

“Yes, I’m completely offended that a gorgeous, hot man with a killer body wants to sex me up one side and down the other. Someone get me a marker and a sign, stat, because protests are in order.”

I can’t hide my smile.

“Are you smiling again?” she asks in mock surprise. “I’m not sure what to think. What happened to my very starchy bookseller?”

She means this as a compliment, and I know she likes the stuffy side of me, too. “He is on vacation, yes?”

Everly laughs, digging into her dinner once more. I finish my meal, pay the check, and then usher her out of the bistro.

We walk along the riverbank, on stones older than any American city, and stop every so often to buy clothes in shops that catch her eye. Everly seems to love it—her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are sparkling.

This isn’t the first time I’ve walked these very steps, but it is the first time I’ve done so holding a woman’s hand. Every now and again, she squeezes mine, as if to comfort me.

I nearly punch myself. Of course she’s worried and wants to comfort me, I’ve all but told her my grandfather is dying. I haven’t been thinking of him; I’ve been trying to solve the problem of my current assignment and coming up short.

Then again, I’ve never been asked to kill a close relative before, and an innocent one at that. I’m barely existing in a gray area, with a woman who’s firmly living in color.

“Who’s taking care of your cat?” Everly suddenly asks.

“The cat takes care of herself,” I point out. Perhaps one day, the cat will like Everly. The damned thing should, especially in light of Everly’s concern for her.

“But someone will need to make sure she has plenty of water and food, even though she can go in and out as she pleases.”

I stop Everly and turn her to face me. “The cat is being well taken care of by Mrs. Tatum. I made arrangements before we left the States.”

Her eyes search my face. “I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t take care of an animal.”

“You were just being concerned.”

She smiles. “Yes. Exactly.”

“A concerned jerk,” I say lightly and she gasps, punching me in the arm. I fake a groan.

“That is not nice, Roman Smith.” We start walking again and she lays her head against my shoulder.

Pulling out her cell, she holds it up. “Let’s take a picture together.”

Uneasy at the thought of my image being Instagrammed or Facebooked or—dear God—Tweeted, I grow stiff. “What do you plan to do with it?”

“Send it to my parents and my best friend, Elle,” she says, lowering the phone. Her smile disappears. “You don’t have to take one with me. Solo selfies are fine.”

I rub the bridge of my nose. “I’m not opposed to taking a picture with you, but I’d rather not have it plastered all over social media. I enjoy my privacy.” Actually, I rather enjoy breathing. My heart is fond of beating as well.

“I swear, Roman.” She shakes her head, clearly exasperated.

“That’s all you had to say. Remember what I told you before? I’d never ask you to embarrass yourself for me.”

Grabbing her chin, I gently pull it up. “I am not embarrassed to be with you or take a picture with you. That was not my intention when I expressed my dislike of social media.” I search her face, willing her to understand all that I can’t share. “I know I’m not the most gregarious bloke, or even the most charming, but I—” “I understand,” she says softly, and I blink.

“You do?”

“Yes.” She tilts her head to one side. “You’re shy and an introvert.

That’s okay. I’m outgoing enough for the both of us.”

She thinks I’m shy and an introvert? Good God. I want to set her straight, but I can’t take away the pleased look on her face. She thinks she’s figured me out.

“Is it that obvious?” I say. Taking the phone, I hold it up and pull her against me. The sun is setting behind us, making dangerous shadows and a beautiful sky. I snap a few pictures of us, before handing it back to her.

She worries her bottom lip as she goes through them. A small frown appears.

“Did I manage to miss us completely?”

“No, you managed to capture some guy with a pissed off look on his face. Stupid photo bomber.” She holds up the phone so I can see the screen.

My gut clenches and my blood begins to boil. It’s Petrov.

Chapter Twelve MY HAND IMMEDIATELY goes to the gun I’ve hidden at my back as I pivot. Petrov is headed our way, murder on his face.

“Ugh. The light was perfect. Maybe I can Photoshop him out,” Everly muses, oblivious.

Think, Roman, think. How do I keep her safe without showing her who I really am? Before, I never had to worry about another.

Despite being a part of the Bratva and having more family than—as Everly would say—I could shake a stick at, I have always been solitary.

Petrov’s long legs eat up the distance between us. I look around for something—anything—that could serve as a distraction for my would-be assassin or my lover.

I spy a Swarovski crystal shop. “Love, didn’t you say you wanted to buy your mother and best friend a present from there?”

“Yes!” Everly tucks her phone into her coat pocket. “You might want to stay here. I take forever picking out presents. It’s a curse all Andrews women suffer from.”

I’m too damn concerned and anxious for her to be on her way to appreciate her humor, but I manage to give her a wink and say, “Enjoy yourself. There’s a business call I need to make anyway.”

She gives me a fleeting kiss, and then sets off in the direction of the store. I try to keep one eye on her and another on the man only steps away from us. Starting for him, I cut across the crowd of tourists and slip into the shadows. It’s not fully shielded from their eyes, but it will have to do.

“Nikolai, you fucking pussy,” he spits out once he reaches me.

“How many lives do you have left?” There is a scar on the outer corner of his eye, pulling at his skin—a visible reminder of our last fight. He appears to be weaponless, but I know better. Besides,

knowing what I do of him, he wants this to be personal. He’ll use a knife instead of a gun.

Everly enters the shop, and the door closes behind her.

Now, I am able to fully concentrate on the lunatic in front of me.

“Been in a fight recently?” I ask pleasantly, palming my gun. Nothing enrages him more than being perceived as a non-threat. A man fighting with only anger to guide him rarely wins.

“How you managed to live is beyond me,” he says. “Who’s the woman?”

My mind reels. He has to know who she is, unless… Fuck, he must not be the one who’s put a hit on my half-brother. “New target.”

Or she will be if I don’t find a way to get out of this mess I’m in.

Obviously stunned, Petrov cocks his head to one side. “She doesn’t look like your usual mark.”

“She’s in the way.”

“Welcome to the dark side, Nikolai. Too bad you won’t be staying long.”

Petrov lunges, a wicked blade catching the light as it slices through the air. I turn just in time, and the knife cuts through my coat instead of my flesh. Using his forward momentum against him, I kick Petrov in the gut, sending him stumbling backward. A surge of satisfaction rises when his breath leaves him on a whooshed-out groan.

Unfortunately, he manages to stay on his feet, winded but ready for more.

I reach for my gun.

His eyes narrow over a menacing grin, a new gold tooth flashing.

“You won’t use it. No silencer.”

From my pocket, I pull out a silencer and screw it on, then aim at his head. “You were saying?”

“You think too much,” Petrov says as he whips out a gun and takes aim.

I’m faster. My bullet leaves the chamber with a muted bang before his finger squeezes the trigger, leaving a small, black hole in the center of his forehead.

“You talk too much.”

His eyes widen as he falls sideways. I wait for the light to dim in his eyes, and then kick him over the edge of the walkway. The river carries away the evidence of my crime.

There isn’t an ounce of regret for killing him, not even with my unanswered questions. He was a horrible human being who killed for the thrill of it—the right payout provided, of course.

I take a deep breath and wait for the gun to cool before I return it to its hiding place. When I was just a lad, I’d not waited, and the metal had burned like hell. My lower back still bears a small scar from it.

But this won’t scar me like the others. I feel nothing but satisfaction as I walk away from the riverfront.

So much for being a changed man.

Chapter Thirteen MY HANDS ARE clean, and the gun is safely hidden by the time Everly exits the shop. I flex my fingers, eyeing the black tattoos that are inked onto my skin.

Well, my hands are mostly clean.

She swings a bag as she walks, her cheerful mood a beacon in the crowd. “I’m done,” she sings out.

Normally, this kind of attention would be unwelcome, but I am too jubilant at the thought of Petrov being eliminated. Everly is safe from him.

I start in her direction, intent upon taking her back to the hotel and making good on my promise to order room service desserts.

Memories of this morning crowd their way to the forefront of my mind. My hands on her body, spreading her thighs, and holding her wrists prisoner. How she tasted on my tongue. The sounds she made when she came apart in my arms.

My stomach roils. I can’t touch her, much less have sex with her.

I’ve just killed a man. I glance at my hands once more, and they’re stained with blood instead of ink.

I pivot and stride away, fighting the bile that threatens to rise.

“Roman?” Everly calls out, her quickening footsteps growing closer as she follows me. “Wait up!”

I slow to allow her to catch up, but only because I can’t leave her behind. Not only would I be leaving her to the wolves, but she’s in a foreign country and can’t speak the language. I doubt she could name our hotel.

With a forced lightness, I turn my attention to her, acting as though I’m happy to have found her at last and not running away.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

She nearly bumps into me. “You have? But I’ve been in the same shop the entire time.”

I shrug, feeling ridiculous. “Perhaps you were hidden from me.”

“I guess.” Giving me an uncertain smile, she asks, “Why didn’t you stop when I called your name?”

“I didn’t hear you,” I say firmly. “I was lost in my head.”

“Your grandfather?”

“Yes, he’s doing much better.” My phone vibrates and I pull it out, noting a new text from Viktor/Victoria. I shoot off a reply, letting him know Petrov is dead by my hand.

Everly’s lips twist. “Must be so hard talking to Victoria.”

“What?”

“You know, Victoria—the woman who just had to get something from you while we were on our date. Otherwise known as coitus interruptus.”

“Are you jealous of Victoria?” I ask, though I suspect the answer is yes. However, if Everly were ever to find out Victoria’s true identity as Viktor, then she wouldn’t be so put out.

“No,” she says quickly. A little too quickly.

“I think you are.”

“Well, I think it’s ungentlemanly of you to say so,” she says primly, turning up her nose. “Anyway, I’m ready to go back to our hotel.”

For some reason, her reprimand spurs me into action. I don’t give a damn about not being worthy to touch her. I have to touch her. I need her.

Without saying a word, I crowd her into a dark alley. “Roman!” she says, looking around. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Showing you how ungentlemanly I can be.” I cup her face with both hands and slant my mouth over hers, forcing my tongue inside.

I lick and taste and take from her, until she responds in kind.

I grind against her, showing her how hard she makes me, as one of her legs wraps around my hip. My hand leaves her face to slide down her neck and then over one breast. I palm it, rubbing my thumb over her already hard nipple.

“Wait,” she says, breathless. “I can’t, not in public.”

“As you wish,” I say, and then kiss her again. I force away the urgency I feel, the need to take her here and now. I trace the outline

of her top lip, then slip my tongue inside her mouth once more to twine with hers. My body goes harder than ever before, like steel being forged for battle.

Everly softens against me, her full breasts rubbing against my chest. She sighs so sweetly that I pull away and gaze into her eyes.

Somehow they are highlighted by a trick of the streetlights.

“You are infinitely special to me, do you know that?”

“I do now,” she says softly. “You’re special to me, too.”

Forcing a calm breath, I turn from her appreciative gaze and hail a taxi. It carries us back to the hotel in no time. Anticipation makes my nerves come alive. I’m dying to touch her, to taste her, to claim her. Actually, I’d give my last breath to be inside of her again.

I shut the hotel room door behind us and turn to face her.

She looks up at me. Slowly, she peels off her clothes, one agonizing piece at a time, until there’s nothing hiding her lush body but her bra and panties. Then, she raises her hands above her head and waits.

I pin her wrists against the door with one hand, using my free one to unfasten my trousers and pull out my cock. Gripping it at the base, I stroke myself while she watches avidly.

“Get down on your knees. I want to see your mouth wrapped around my—” She’s on her knees, taking me into her mouth before I can blink.

Her small hand is wrapped around the base of my cock where mine had just been. She looks up at me, her pink lips stretched wide as she takes all that I have to give to her. Her little tongue darts out to lick the head and I let out a low, approving moan.

My hips thrust forward on their own. I can’t help it. She rewards me with a long, slow lick from tip to base. Her cheeks hollow out as she pulls me deep and I punch out my arm, connecting with the door. It sounds as though I’ve put a hole through it.

Don’t fucking care.

I dig through my pockets and pull out a condom. While she sucks me, I tear it open and then close my eyes.

“Your mouth is paradise,” I growl.

My balls start to draw up, and I know I’m close. None too gently, I push her away and she fights me.

“I wasn’t done,” she complains.

Jesus. She was fighting for more. “Greedy girl. I’ll give you what you need.”

She pouts. “But not what I want.”

“It’s the same thing. Trust me to see to your pleasure. Trust me to take very good care of you.”

I roll the condom on and help her stand. Then I drop to my knees and run my hands along her soft, inner thighs, looking up at her.

“Spread yourself for me.”

Eyes locked on my face, she does as I ask. I gaze at her where she’s soft and pink. “Very pretty,” I say right before I lick her.

She makes a little noise in the back of her throat.

I take my time eating her out, take my time savoring the taste of her pussy. I want to draw her pleasure out, make this last forever, because I have no idea how much time we have left together.

My fear for her makes me desperate. Another pass of my tongue and I stand, bending my knees a little to reach her core. Her hot, inner muscles clench me tight as I push inside.

She gasps loudly, and I adjust my stance, bringing one of her legs over my arm. “Hush, love, or everyone will hear you.”

She whimpers, and I smile.

“You want that, don’t you? You want everyone to hear you.”

“Yes,” she moans.

“Louder.”

“Yes!” I pump into her so hard that her breasts nearly bounce out of her bra. I yank the cups down and pinch her nipples. “Say my name.”

“Roman.”

I grimace. Roman isn’t my name.

“Roman,” she moans.

Damn it. “Don’t say my name.”

“What?”

“I want to play a game, yeah?”

“O-okay.”

“I’m Nikolai, a Russian assassin who’s been sent on a mission to —” “Save the world from an evil dictator!”

In this moment, I wish that were true. “Yes.” I bite her bottom lip.

“Now, try again. Say my name.”

“Nikolai,” she breathes, and my dick swells up so big that I curse.

“Louder.” I pinch her nipples again.

“Nikolai!” she screams.

Something inside of me snaps, and I’m no longer making love to her. I’m fucking her. There’s only the heat of our bodies, the wetness of her pussy, and the hard tips of her breasts. There’s only acceptance as she takes what I give her. There are only her hands gripping my shoulders, her teeth scraping my neck.

There’s only us. There’s only where we are joined.

I look down, watching as I disappear inside of her and pull back out, slick with her juices. Ruthlessly, I slam into her and then spin us around before stalking to the bed. Automatically, she tightens her legs around me. I lower her onto the edge of the bed and pull her legs over my shoulders, before pistoning into her like a machine.

She moans and grabs her breasts, rubbing them. I can’t look away. I can’t stop fucking her.

“What about dessert?” she pants. “You said you wanted to paint me with—” I rub her clit, making her eyes flutter closed as she sucks in a breath. With a low growl, I pull out of her and bury my face between her thighs. “You taste so good.”

Her hips buck wildly as I slide two fingers inside of her. “Not fair.”

“You want my cock?”

She grabs my wrist and pulls it to her mouth, then proceeds to lick her juices off my fingers. Giving me a heavy-lidded look, she says, “You weren’t sharing.”

“Hot little piece,” I murmur before crawling up her body. I flip her to her stomach and pull her to me, sending her heart-shaped ass into the air. Grabbing the belt from her robe that’s lying on the end

of the bed, I yank it off and tie her hands at the wrists, pulling them behind her.

Positioning myself at her entrance, I sink deep inside while simultaneously shortening the length of the belt.

She lets out a low wail. “Oh God. Please, Roman.”

“It’s Nikolai, and please what?”

“I don’t know.” Then a heartbeat later, “Please, Nikolai, help me.”

Nikolai. My name on her lips is a powerful aphrodisiac. I slip my hand around her, to where she’s hot, wet, and swollen for me. “Shall I rub you here?”

“Yes.” “Shall I make you come?”

“Yes!” I continue to torture Everly with measured thrusts. “I’m going to allow you to come, but you have to be quiet.”

“I can’t!” she wails.

“You can. The neighbors are already complaining. I hear them through the walls.”

“But this is a suite. No one else can really hear us,” she pants.

“Perhaps I left the window open. Or the doors to the balcony.”

She grows wetter, coating my cock as I tease her. “Everly, you naughty girl.”

“Please don’t make me go out there.”

“Hush, love, and remember our game.”

“Whatever you say, Nikolai.” She pushes back against me, sending my cock deeper. I run a finger between the cheeks of her ass, playing with her there. Ever so gently, I slip the tip of my finger inside. “Oh,” she chokes out, her arms straining against the belt.

With my free hand, I find her clit and begin to massage it. She shatters around me, calling out my name.

“Nikolai, Nikolai,” she chants into the mattress.

With a curse, I thrust deep and hold myself still as wave after wave of my orgasm washes over me.

Chapter Fourteen EVERLY WAKES ME up with sweet kisses to my face and neck. Her hair tickles my chest as she works her way down my stomach.

“Good morning,” I say, just as her hot mouth wraps around my cock.

She hums in response and I grab her hips, twisting her around while pulling her up and over me. I bury my face between her thighs and she startles. I slip from between her lips.

“Shall I stop?” I ask, teasing the tip of her clit with my tongue.

“No,” is all she says, before taking me deep.

In no time at all, our new positions have both of us coming.

“That was unexpected,” she says, climbing off of me and sitting down. She draws up her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She looks satisfied and pleased, but there’s an undercurrent of…shyness.

Cocking my head to one side, I study her. This makes no sense to me. Ah, yes, the ex… “Have you done that before?” I ask.

“No. You’re the first.” Her gaze skitters away. “I’ve never, uh… swallowed, or had that done to me at the same time.”

I grab the back of her neck and pull her down to capture her mouth. “Sexy woman.”

Grinning, she says, “I’m going to take a shower. Alone. So I can actually get clean this time.”

Last night, I made love to her in the shower. I don’t think I touched the soap once she had washed me from head to toe.

“Have fun.”

My phone buzzes while she showers. It’s a text from Vladimir. I exhale in relief as I read it. My father wants to meet at 2:00 p.m. at a popular café that I am familiar with. Perhaps now I can put an end to this madness.

I text him back to let him know I’ll join him.

There’s no further communication after that, not even an acknowledgement. Then again, my father has always been a supremely arrogant man. Always expecting others to do his bidding, no matter how inconvenient or distasteful.

I suspect that’s one of the reasons my grandfather has never put him in a position of power. Only, I know the truth. Vladimir wants this kind of power, with its undercurrent of secrecy and deals written in blood. Yet, he also wants respectability, to flaunt his title and aristocratic friends to the world. He craves their acceptance and approval so much that he paid a man to relinquish his claim on a centuries-old English title so that Vladimir could file a petition to claim it himself.

Another weakness my grandfather disapproved of.

You can’t serve two masters, he would remind me every time Vladimir came to visit.

Everly emerges from the bathroom as I set the phone down. She is wearing nothing but a smile and a white towel around her lush curves. Instead of getting dressed, she sits down beside me on the bed and begins to trace the intricate patterns of the tattoos on my forearm.

“I’m not complaining about the time we’ve spent together, but when do you think we’ll go see your grandfather? I’m sure you must be worried. If you want to go first to see if he’s up to having visitors, then I’m sure I can find something to do while you’re gone.”

She’s just offered me the perfect excuse to meet with my father while I feel like utter shite for deceiving her.

“Are you worried about me?” I ask, avoiding her compassionfilled gaze.

“Yes.” Her finger touches my knuckles. “It can’t be easy to have someone you care about in the hospital. Not knowing if they’ll live or not, and being powerless to help in any way.”

I jerk my gaze back to hers. Is she thinking of the time when I was in the hospital and she watched over me? “Because you have personal experience with this?” I ask roughly.

“What do you think?” she replies, and then starts to leave.

Grabbing her arm, I give it a tug, sending her tumbling into bed with me. The towel falls away, giving me an unimpeded view of her luscious body before she falls on top of me. Her weight is warm and welcoming.

She leans up on her elbows and stares down at me, her mahogany hair falling over her eyes. Slowly, I brush it back from her face and try not to imagine her lifeless body. Try not to imagine her bruised and battered should I fail to protect her.

Perhaps it’s time to tell Everly the truth. Perhaps it’s time to show her how to defend herself and be prepared for what’s bound to come.

Leaning down, she kisses the tip of my nose. “My very serious Roman,” she breathes. “Of course I’m talking about you.”

“Why?” I can’t help but ask.

She gives me a tender smile. “I don’t know exactly, but there’s just something about you that makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a really long time.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“Yes. And some very wicked things, too,” she says with a laugh.

“You make me feel safe and wild, all at the same time.”

I cup the side of her face, rubbing my thumb along her jaw. I don’t deserve an angel like her. She sees me, not for who I really am, but who she thinks I am. Who I’ve been to her. It’s not the worst deception I’ve perpetrated, but it’s the only one I’ve ever regretted.

“Actually, I was thinking of going to see my grandfather today.”

Not a total lie. I do need to contact him. I’m desperate for his help.

There’s no way Vladimir will provide anything useful.

“Then that’s what you should do,” Everly says, ending her sentence with another soft kiss, this time on my lips. “I can keep myself busy.”

I roll her on her back, settling myself between her thighs. “I can think of a few ways to keep you busy right now.”

She stretches, sending her breasts bobbing as her hands grab hold of the headboard. “Show me.”

Determined to exhaust her, I begin to kiss my way down her body.

* EVERLY IS SPRAWLED on the bed, sleeping the sleep of the shagged-tothe-point-of-no-return. There are stubble marks along her inner thighs, her breasts, and her throat. My marks. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk,” was the last thing she said to me, before her beautiful eyes fluttered closed.

Normally, I’m not a man to have his ego inflated by such a compliment, but normally I don’t have a woman like Everly in my bed.

I stare at her a moment, memorizing every detail of her body. If this should be the last time I see her, I want to remember her like this—full of life while she sleeps in my bed. The hint of a satisfied smile on her lips. The rosy glow on her cheeks.

Careful not to disturb her, I slowly pull the bed sheet up and over her, tucking her in as if she were a small child.

“I’ll miss you,” I murmur.

“Miss you, too,” she replies in her slow, southern drawl.

With a grunt, I check my weapons and then head out the door.

My cousin Ben emerges from the shadows. It is not a total surprise to see him, since he’s always followed me around like a puppy. Besides that, he’s a hacker and can track anyone around the world, if he sets his mind to it.

He grins at me, his blue eyes full of mischief. “I know. I know. Be serious, Benji. Keep her safe or you’ll fuck me up.”

“You’re one of the few I trust,” I say solemnly. I mean it, especially after he helped me recuperate from the injuries I sustained from the gunshot wounds. He’s also my favorite cousin, but I will never tell him that, because I would never hear the end of it. “But I heard you’ve been following Petrov’s lead.”

The grin fades from Ben’s face. His eyes are no long mischievous but murderous. This is a good thing. “Govoryat, shto kur doyat.”

Don’t believe the rumors.

I level him with a look. “If anything should happen to her, the rumors about your death by my hand will not be exaggerated.”

He inclines his head. “Duly noted.”

Always a smartass, this one. Then again, he’s only nineteen, and thinks himself to be indestructible. “I’ll be back no later than four.”

“Plenty of time to play Minecraft.”

I frown. “Minecraft?”

Ben waves me off. “Leave the games to the young.”

At twenty-seven, I’m hardly old, but Ben has a way of making me feel ancient.

“Covert operations are for the old, Paxon,” he adds with a cheeky grin.

Like when he says things like that. Old man, indeed.

I smack him on the back of the head, and he grunts. “Remember what I said.”

Turning, I head down the ornate hallway, past a set of leather club chairs to the private elevator. The hotel hums with vitality as I make my way outside. In any other circumstance, the Tower suite at Hotel Pariz would be the perfect place to spend a honeymoon.

I inwardly grimace at my thoughts. Honeymoon? I am getting soft.

Chapter Fifteen THE ASTRONOMICAL CLOCK strikes two as I round the corner of the Old Town Hall—or what’s left of the town hall. Greed, Vanity, Death, and the Turk act out a lesson in medieval morality below the clock while the Twelve Apostles appear above.

Vladimir waits for me at a nearby café, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he sips at his coffee. Two bodyguards stand at a discreet distance. They start forward as I get closer. My father raises a hand, and they drop back.

“Thank you for meeting me,” I say, taking the seat across from him.

A server comes by our table, and I order a drink.

Vladimir takes off his sunglasses, his pale eyes a mirror image of my own. I’ve inherited his height and lean build as well.

However, I take after my mother in all other things—a male version of her, if you will. Perhaps this is why he dares to meet with me in public. No one would ever think we were related, much less father and son.

“I was bored,” he answers. “You amuse me.”

If he thinks to hurt me, he’s sorely mistaken. I don’t give a damn.

“I’ve been ordered to execute your son.”

His eyes widen fractionally. “That is neither amusing nor boring.”

“But it is true.”

The server comes by with my coffee. I add milk and sugar, and then wait, letting the silence speak for me.

“How much?”

I give him the number. He curses under his breath. “Christian or Sebastian?”

“Does it matter?” I ask.

He pauses for only a moment, but in that brief time, I realize the truth. It does matter to him. If I were to say Christian, then he would

walk away and leave my younger half-brother to the wolves.

“Of course not.” His gaze shifts away. “I was merely curious.”

Such an obvious lie. “It’s Sebastian. He is to pay for your refusal to honor contracts.”

Vladimir eyes me, as if to try to discern if I’m telling the truth or not. I hold up my hands and tilt my head to one side, before picking up my coffee cup. “I have no reason to lie to you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he asks lightly. His hands, however, tell a different story. One is fisted, and the other is gripping the handle of his mug so tightly his knuckles are white.

“I thought you should know.” Setting down my cup, I eye him.

He says nothing to this, merely looks around the café. People are laughing, talking, and taking in the sights.

“Do you plan on seeing this through?” he finally asks.

I shrug, staring at the tourists. Everly would love it here. I should take her to see the Astronomical Clock. Perhaps this evening, before the final show plays at eight. “I plan on consulting Grandfather.”

“Is he the decider of life and death now?”

“He is the head of our family,” I remind him. Does Vladimir truly think I will execute Sebastian? I’ve already killed a man in order to save two lives, but now that I know Petrov is not the one who put the contract out on Sebastian, I’m back at the beginning.

“I suppose you want what you have been offered.”

I shake my head. “No.” “How much?” he demands.

I level him with a look. If he wishes to see me like this, then I will play the part. “You can’t afford to pay what I’m worth.”

His face goes white. “What about a trade?”

The fucking bastard. He wants to trade Christian for Sebastian.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Me.” I barely stop myself from asking why. I refuse to move a muscle or acknowledge his sacrifice. He will have to work for my mercy.

“You?” Only years of discipline keep my face impassive. An assassin wears a mask at all times. Not even my eyes can give me away.

Affronted, Vladimir sneers at me. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Yes, you sorry bastard, it is. Discreetly, I take out my gun and show it to him. “Shall I do it now?”

“No.” His lips thin. “I know how this works. You’ll need to clear it with your contact first. I have to know Sebastian will be safe.”

“What of Christian?” I put my gun away.

He makes a sound of disgust. “What of him?”

I’m confused at this point. Why not offer the younger son, instead of himself? Vladimir is known for many things, but sacrifice is not one of them. “I will allow you to choose the place, day, time, and method.”

He visibly relaxes. “Morocco, my yacht, in three days, 9:00 a.m., and an explosion. But first, I want something to relax me. I don’t want to feel a thing.”

“Are you positive?”

Instead of answering, he asks, “How is Katerina?”

My distrust of him grows. He never concerns himself with her.

“My mother is well.”

He nods. “This is good. Perhaps I should go see her, before… I love her, you know. You as well, Nikolai. But there were things she couldn’t give me, so I had to make a choice. I had to do what was best for my future.”

Is this his deathbed confession? I stare at him while he takes a sip of his coffee and then continues, “My father won’t live forever, and when he dies, change will happen. There are those who would like to see another in charge, one without the Romanov name.”

“Let them come,” I finally say.

“Kolya,” he says in a voice I haven’t heard since I was a small child. “You will be targeted first.”

“I know.” But what I don’t know is why he appears to care. My life has never mattered to him before, only my status as Grandfather’s favorite.

He sighs. “You’ve grown into a proper man, a man worthy to be head of the Romanov family. I wish my other sons were more like you.”

Vladimir has to be joking. Or insane. Possibly both. “You wish your sons to be killers?”

“Blyad.” He slices his hand through the air. “They are soft and spoiled, the both of them. They’ve no understanding of our ways, though I tried to teach them.”

“Perhaps you should have left them with Grandfather.” Like you did me.

“Perhaps. But I had different goals in mind for Sebastian and Christian.”

“What were your goals for me?” I have no idea why I ask this. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need his approval. I don’t need him at all.

He smiles. It is neither evil nor sweet and indulgent. His smile is just there, a mere movement of muscles forced upward. “To survive.”

Setting my coffee down, I rise to my feet. “I’ll let you know.”

Without waiting for his reply, I walk away, disappearing into the crowds in case he has an urge to follow.

I glance at my watch. Only thirty minutes passed while we talked, while we decided who lived and died. Cold seeps into my bones. Cold and desolation. I have to kill my father in order to save his son.

Playing God is overrated.

Chapter Sixteen WHEN I RETURN to the hotel, Ben is where I left him, except he’s commandeered one of the club chairs by the elevator. Something I would have never done because it draws too much attention. Then again, I instructed the staff to give us complete privacy.

He gets up when he sees me, shoving his phone in the back pocket of his trousers. “That didn’t take long,” he says cheerfully and nods at the door. “Completely quiet.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “I’m surprised you admitted to feeling anything at all for her.”

Affronted, I turn to him. “I feel things.”

“Hunger and pain don’t count.”

“Why do I engage with you?” I run a hand through my hair.

He punches me in the shoulder. “Because I’m your favorite cousin.”

Ben’s not my only cousin, so I can’t confirm that. “You’re tolerable.”

“Admit it. You love me.”

I grunt in reply.

“That’s caveman for yes,” he says as I produce the hotel key.

“Go home to your mother, boy.”

“Your mother has left her home,” Ben says as I open the door.

I pause. “And?” “She boarded a plane to…uh…” He scratches his chin.

“Somewhere sunny.”

Somewhere sunny? Jesus. I don’t need this added burden.

“Perhaps she needed a holiday.”

“Yeah. Okay, later, cuz.” He walks away, whistling as he goes. His shoulders are broad, without the weight of the world on them. For some reason, Grandfather has not insisted he be trained as an

assassin. I think it amuses Grandfather that Ben’s interest lies in hacking into government databases and the like.

I shove all thoughts of Ben away as I step inside the suite. I hear water running in the bathroom and make my way there, taking off my clothes as I go.

Just as I suspect, Everly is in the shower. Water and soap run down her body as she washes. My dick gets hard. I step inside, tossing a condom on the shower seat as she turns around. She slaps a hand on her chest, a small squeak escaping her.

“You scared me to death,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her hot, wet body presses into mine. “How is your grandfather?”

“As expected.”

“Which means?”

“No visitors beyond family.”

She frowns.

“Yet. Perhaps at the end of the week. Surely you can stay a bit longer with me.” I dip my head, claiming her mouth for a kiss, not wanting to hear her answer. When I’m with her, I have no thought of the future, of my job, of death, or the past. I’m fully in the present.

“I can stay longer.” She slides her hands down my back and grabs my ass. “I could bounce a quarter off this.”

“This is a good thing?”

Everly laughs. “A very good thing.”

“Are you sore?”

She nods, a fierce blush covering her face. “I had to hobble in here.”

“My poor girl. Shall I run a bath for you?” I reach between us, cupping her. “I could wash you.”

Her breath hitches. “Please, Roman. I’m…I can’t.”

I rub her swollen clit, and she makes a breathy sound. “You can.

I’ll be gentle.” Lifting her up, I lean her against the tiled wall of the shower, and grab the condom I brought with me. In less than thirty seconds, it’s in place, and I’m ready to claim her once more.

“Put your legs around my waist.”

She wraps her legs around me as I work the head of my dick inside of her. Her sweet lips part with a whimper. I won’t lie, the thought of her struggling to take me turns me on. The erotic resistance against my cock makes me growl low in my throat in complete ecstasy.

“Easy, easy, sólnishko moyó,” I croon in Russian. My sweetheart.

“Just a little at a time.”

Her fingernails dig into my skin and my hips jerk against her, sending me deep inside. I groan as her hot walls clench at me.

“That’s more than just a little,” she says, breathless and accusing.

Fuck, did I hurt her? “I’m sorry, love.” I start to withdraw. “I’ll stop.”

She tightens her legs around me. “No. Don’t stop. I want you inside me.”

“How deep?”

Her eyes darken. “As deep as you can go.”

I thrust hard and her head falls back. I lick a path up her neck.

“How’s this?”

I pull out and thrust inside again. “And this?” Over and over, I sink into her, not allowing her time to answer. I want her mindless. I want her screaming my name.

Biting down on her neck, I scrape my teeth against her skin. Her thighs quiver. I groan as her entire body trembles.

I find the lobe of her ear, licking and sucking on it. “You’ve been so very good, taking all of my cock when your pussy is so sore from fucking. Shall I allow you to come?”

“God, Roman. When you talk like that,” she gasps.

I push back the hair that’s fallen over her beautiful face. “Like what?”

“So honest. So real.” She blinks up at me. “It turns me on and makes me want to be that way with you, too.”

I let my forehead drop to hers as I slow my thrusts, as I force my body to become tender and loving, instead of this savage beast I’ve let out.

This is the only time I can be honest with her. She doesn’t know my real name. She doesn’t know I’m a killer. That I’m a filthy

monster hiding in plain sight. Why in the hell did I ever allow things to go this far with us?

“Roman?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Yes, love?”

“Make me come,” she orders, and just like that, I’m out of my head and focused on her once more.

* AS I SUSPECTED, Everly adores the Astronomical Clock. She takes picture after picture with her phone, smiling all the while.

“Roman,” she shouts, waving me over. “Let’s take a picture together.”

Like a dutiful lover, I stride to her and indulge in the pretense of our relationship. It’s not entirely one-sided, but I’m still guarding my heart against her.

“Thank you,” she says, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

My heart speeds up from her innocent show of affection. So much for guarding it.

I take her hand, lace our fingers together, and begin to walk with her along the streets. It’s cold, and our breath comes out in little puffs.

“Are you enjoying your trip?” I ask, stopping by a street vendor to purchase cups of hot chocolate.

Eyes sparkling in the streetlights, she smiles. “Best trip ever.” Her smile fades. “Well, it would be, if the reason we came here wasn’t because your grandfather had to see a specialist.”

“There is nothing wrong with enjoying yourself.” I hate that she feels so guilty over a lie. “In fact, I told him more about you. Showed him a picture I had taken.”

“You did?” She takes the hot chocolate from the street vendor.

“What did he say?”

“That you are a beautiful woman with a loving spirit.”

Her smile returns. “So, that’s where you get your charm.”

It’s where I learned to lie, learned to kill, and learned to enjoy my solitude. “What about you?”

“My charm comes naturally to me.” She winks. “All southern women are born with it. If you aren’t, then they kick you out and make you go live up north with the Yankees.”

“But you’re a Yankee,” I point out.

Everly makes a face, clearly offended. “I am not. But some of my friends are, and the little old ladies I help are from up north, bless their hearts,” she adds quickly. She sighs.

“So all Americans are Yankees except for southerners. Is that correct?”

“No.” She gives me a look and I wink at her. With a laugh, she lightly smacks my shoulder. “You are a tease, Roman.”

“I thought you loved it when I tease, so…”

She leans against me and sighs one of her adorable sighs. “I do love you—when you tease me, that is.” An uncomfortable silence fills what little space is between us. I can pretend to have only heard the last part and not the first. But at this moment, I can’t pretend at all. I can’t ignore her slip of the tongue. Yet I remain mute.

After a minute, she clears her throat. “Look. People selling things.

I like things.”

She walks away, steaming cup of hot chocolate in her hand. I rub the back of my neck. Take down evil, kill in the morning, and back by the afternoon in order to see her face. Absolutely no problem.

But to acknowledge what lies in Everly’s heart and possibly mine —I’m a bloody rookie.

Chapter Seventeen I JOIN EVERLY on the balcony of our suite. She’s bundled up in a fluffy, white robe. She didn’t say much on the way back, but she held my hand the entire time.

A good sign, I suppose.

The view of Prague from Hotel Pariz is world famous, and the starry sky is beyond words, but all I see is Everly. The graceful curve of her neck, the way her skin nearly glows in the moonlight, and the small smile on her lips. Does she even know I’m outside with her, or is she so lost in her thoughts that I’m not even a blip on her radar?

I cover her small hand with mine. Her skin is ice cold. “Shall we go to bed?”

“I’m not sleepy,” she says, still not turning my way.

“We don’t have to go to sleep.”

She shakes her head, sending mahogany-colored waves tumbling over her back. “I’m not—” “We could watch a film.”

Finally, she turns to me and there are tears in her eyes. Shocked and furious, I look for the one who has done this to her. “What’s wrong?”

She shrugs, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t know.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know,” she repeats, and I start to panic. What does she know? Has Viktor gotten to her? “I’m not sure what’s going on, Roman.”

Fuck me. She does know. “I’m only trying to protect you, Everly. I want you to know that. If you believe nothing else about me, believe that I never want to see you hurt or—” “Protect me from what—myself?” She sniffs, her spine visibly stiffening. “I’m a stupid romantic who decided to take a chance and fly halfway around the world with a man I’ve known for months, yet

know absolutely nothing at all about. And it’s plain as the nose on my face that you don’t feel the way I do.”

Taking her by the shoulders, I bend my knees slightly to get on eye level with her. “I forbid you from calling yourself stupid. There’s not a damn thing wrong with being a romantic, with taking a chance.

I’ve—you don’t know what I’ve risked being with you.”

“You’re right. I don’t know, because you don’t share anything about yourself, while I can’t shut up. You know everything about me, from my family to my favorite drink. You know what I like to read, my favorite candy…while I don’t even know how you like your coffee.

Or how you got that scar on your back.”

I take her in my arms, trying to comfort her. “But you do know,” I murmur into her hair. “You know more about me than you think.

More than any other person should.”

“I don’t,” she cries softly. “I only know what you want me to.”

I lean away from her. “What about while I was in the hospital?

And later?”

Tears have made wet tracks on her cheeks and the sight of them claws at my heart. I’m the one who’s hurt her. “If it weren’t for you getting shot and me finding you, we wouldn’t be together, would we?

We never would have had our first date and your grandfather never would have requested to meet me.”

“We…I…you…,” I begin, and then stop. She’s right. We wouldn’t be in this predicament at all. Our weekly flirtation would have stayed exactly that—a flirtation that never went anywhere. “I’m sorry.”

“So I’m right?” she asks in a small voice.

“Everly, I—” She pushes away from me, heading inside. I start after her.

“Leave me alone, please.”

“Don’t shut me out.”

“Says the man who won’t let me in.” She crosses her arms as she turns to face me. “Figure out what you want, Roman. Figure out if I’m worth opening up to, and then do it.” Her chin lifts. “Or I’m going home.”

Fear claws at me—not only at her ultimatum, but also at what will happen to her should I fail to comply. She will die. This much I know.

She knows my identity and that’s enough to seal her fate.

In an organization that craves the darkness and shadows, she’s the light that exposes us all.

Chapter Eighteen MY MORNING BEGINS, not with sweet kisses from the woman in my bed, but with a text from Viktor.

V: The trade is acceptable. Proceed.

Me: Morocco explodes with flowers on the waterfront at 9 a.m.

I toss the phone onto the nearest table and sit up. The sheet pools around my waist as I stretch. I glance over at Everly. She’s sleeping or pretending to be asleep. Either way, I won’t disturb her. Last night, I considered it a victory when she allowed me to sleep in the same bed.

I won’t push my luck by attempting to touch her. Besides, I doubt she’d welcome it.

I bring up my knees and lean forward, thinking of the best way to handle her demands. The crux of it all—I want to be honest with her.

I want her to know the real me. Only, I want her to know the real me without the sins of my not-so-distant past.

I suddenly feel her cool fingers on my back, tracing the outline of my scar. Then her lips are upon it, and I hold myself so still that I’m barely breathing.

“How did you get this?” she asks softly, giving me the chance to redeem myself in her eyes. I shouldn’t say anything. I should send her home. I should…

“The scar is a burn, from the barrel of a gun,” I hear myself say.

She inhales sharply and sits up. “Someone burned you on purpose?”

I smile at the outrage in her voice. “No, not on purpose. I did it to myself as a lad by accident.”

Scooting closer to me, she wraps the sheet around her delectable body. “Does it still hurt?”

“I barely know it’s there.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes now downcast.

I take her hand and place it on my side. “Knife wound.” Then I move it farther down, to the top of my thigh. “Bullet wound.”

Her head jerks up, face pale as she licks her lips nervously. “But that’s not on the side you were shot,” she says faintly.

I move her hand once more, to the other side. “Another knife wound.”

“Are booksellers attacked that often for their merchandise?” she asks, in an obvious attempt at humor.

I shake my head, wordless.

“Oh. Then…” She looks away, and then back at me. “I don’t understand.”

The door crashes open. Everly screams while I shove her behind me and reach for my Glock. Men in black walk inside the room, weapons drawn. Men I recognize as Bratva.

“You have a gun,” she shouts into my ear. “When did you get a gun? And who are these people?”

Viktor steps out of the crowd, his smile friendly while his eyes are predatory. What the hell is going on? “He’s had a gun all along, Ms. Andrews,” he says, his voice accentless. “In fact, Mr. Smith is helping us, and we thought his position had been compromised.”

“Compromised?” she repeats.

I glance at her. “He means by you.”

“The CIA tends to frown upon that, ma’am,” Viktor says, throwing himself firmly into the part. It makes more sense to me now, more than ever, why they call him the Chameleon.

“I didn’t know you worked for the CIA,” she says and then lets out a nervous laugh. “And to think I—” She shakes her head and says no more. For that, I am thankful, because Viktor had suddenly become very interested in what she had to say.

“You thought what?” Viktor prompts, and it’s all I can do not to shoot him where he stands. But these are his men in the room.

“Nothing.” The bed dips slightly as she reaches for more blankets.

“This is embarrassing,” she mutters.

Grabbing the robe from the end of the bed, I turn to her and wrap it around her bare shoulders. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Everly. Nothing.”

Her face is unreadable. She glances away. “Do you even have a grandfather?”

Viktor’s smile grows wider. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk while I confer with my captain.”

Captain of what? I want to shout as he walks away. He exits the room and takes all but one man with him. My hands curl into fists.

I breathe in and then out. Anger is my enemy. Acting without thinking is death. Finally, I gather myself enough to answer her. “I do have a grandfather.”

“Is he here in Prague?”

The less she knows, the better, but I can be honest while avoiding answering the entire question. “No. He’s perfectly healthy and at home in St. Petersburg.”

Her delicately arched brows draw together. “The man who shot you, he is a guy who you were—are—after?”

“Yes. He was a bad guy. He used to sell women into sex rings.”

Another truth I can share. Petrov was a reprehensible prick.

“Was… Used to… As in he’s no longer alive?” she asks. There are goosebumps on her chest, as if she’s realized that she’s been sharing a bed with a killer.

“I killed him the other night, while you were shopping.” After making sure the safety is on, I lay my gun down beside me.

“Was he trying to hurt you?”

“Yes.” A slow nod of her head. “Then I’m glad you killed him,” she says.

“My friend, Elle, works with women who’ve been pimped out and sold. They’re like empty shells, and they think their worth is only in how much they can get for their bodies.”

Her response is nothing like I thought it would be. I stare at her.

“You’re glad I killed a man?”

“He wasn’t a man. He was a monster who tried to hurt you and had already hurt countless women,” she says, though now she’s

shaking. Hard. “I’m glad you work with—with that man to help people.”

“Are you certain?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I’m trying to be, but it’s not easy to find out the man you—you… It’s not easy.”

Opening my arms, I wait for her to come to me. I want this to be her decision, not one I press upon her. Without hesitation, she buries her face in my neck, throwing herself against me until only the bedsheets separate us.

I run my hands down her trembling back. “It’s okay, love. I’m still Roman. I’m still the man who adores you.”

“Everything makes so much sense now. The store, the grumpiness…the way you—” “Not an act, darling. Sorry.”

She laughs. “Good, because I adore my starchy, stuffy bookseller.

I adore him so much it hurts.”

Viktor returns, his face pinched as he takes us in. This is not what he was hoping for. Perhaps he wanted hysterics from her, so he could drug us once more, but instead, he got the brave woman in my arms.

A woman trying to make sense of things, while believing the best about me.

“Hate to break things up, but I need the two of you to get dressed and come to the embassy. There’s some paperwork I need you to fill out, Ms. Andrews, and Mr. Smith needs to be debriefed.”

Everly exhales and then stands, keeping the blankets wrapped tightly about her. “Thank you so much, Mister…?”

“Jones,” Viktor supplies.

“Mr. Jones,” she says with a smile. “I appreciate all that you are doing to keep us safe.”

“Quite welcome, ma’am.”

I glare at him from behind her back, but the bastard has the gall to fucking wink at me.

“I’ll get dressed, and then we can leave,” Everly says before she dashes to the bathroom.

“Care to explain this?”

“You’ve been compromised. I’m here to help you get Everly out of the country. Safely.”

“Then why all the pretense?”

“I thought you cared for her. This is the only way,” he says softly.

He knows me too well. The anger and tension building in my body dissipate.

My lips flatten, then I run a hand through my hair. “Let me talk with her first.”

Viktor nods. “Be quick. We don’t have much time.”

“I will find a way to repay you,” I vow.

My old mentor takes a step back. “I know you will.” Then he leaves the room.

I swing my legs over the mattress and stand up before pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Joining her in the bathroom, I use the facilities and wash my hands.

Everly reaches up and musses my hair. “I can’t wait to see your shiny badge.”

“Don’t have one.”

“Okay, shiny ID card.”

I shake my head again and start to brush my teeth.

Her emerald eyes grow big. “Are you like Mission Impossible CIA? Like to the rest of the world, you don’t actually exist?”

An accurate description, except I’m on the wrong side of the law.

I allow a ghost of a smile to cross my lips as I set down my toothbrush. “Something like that.”

“Good thing you don’t have to kill me,” she says cheerfully, and I almost choke as I rinse out my mouth.

“Why would I have to kill you?” Fuck me. I hate that she says this, thinks it’s a game.

She lowers her voice dramatically. “For knowing too much.”

Apparently, my horror must show on my face, because she shakes her head and then says, “Haven’t you ever watched a spy movie?”

“No.” “Do you want to see one?”

“Not particularly.”

She beams at me. “Gosh, Roman. You don’t know how happy you made me. I feel like…like everything’s back to normal. I’m the chipper one, and you’re the grumpy guy I like to tease.”

“Brilliant,” I mutter.

“Is that your real accent?”

“One of them,” I admit.

“It’s really hot,” she says as we head back to the bedroom. “But I haven’t heard the rest, so…”

The situation, her flirting…everything is laughable. I want to shout at her, to shake her, and insist she leave, that she run away, because I am not one of the good guys. And Viktor sure as hell isn’t one of the good guys either. We are death and destruction. We are vanity and greed, and we seek to conquer and take.

I lace her fingers with mine, before grabbing my coat. “Let’s get this over with.”

One of the men in black motions to us. “Follow me to the elevators.”

Leaving the others behind, we quickly do as he says and step inside. Viktor and Ben are waiting. Only Viktor’s face is pale and Ben’s doesn’t hold its normal humor.

Suddenly, it hits me. We won’t all make it out of here alive.

“Close your eyes,” I say softly, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

I scroll through the menu and tap on the music app before gently slipping the attached ear buds inside her ears. “Listen to this.

“Symphony Number Four” is one of my favorites.”

“Do you need to talk without me listening?” she asks, and I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

So precious to me. So utterly irresistible that I couldn’t stay away.

I should have stayed away. I should have packed up and left the minute after she placed her first order for romance novels.

“Yes,” I say roughly.

With a smile, her eyes flutter shut. Such trust she has in me.

“Roman?” she asks as I turn up the music. The music swells to a crescendo. I pull her to me, wrapping one arm around her waist and dipping my head to kiss her one last time while keeping my sight on the men in the elevator with us.

My cousin. My mentor. Which one is my enemy?

With my free hand, I reach for my Glock and train it on the back of Viktor’s head, then Ben’s. My heart slams against my chest, but my aim is steady.

Everly begins to shake, her fingers curling into the fabric of my suit jacket, as if she knows what’s about to happen.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” my cousin says, turning to face me, his gun out.

Despite everything, my heart sinks at his betrayal. He is the threat, not Viktor. I should have known, but my cousin… I don’t want to kill him in order for Everly to live. I practically helped raise him. “I would do anything for her.”

His knowing gaze turns to Everly, then back to me, his eyes blinking rapidly in Morse code. Nearly letting out a sigh of relief, I inch to the left before shoving Everly behind me. This is going to hurt like a motherfucker.

“Weakness is unbecoming of an assassin,” he says right before he shoots.

Chapter Nineteen Everly

A LOUD BANG goes off and I jump at the sound. Suddenly, Roman falls to one side, taking me with him. We hit the floor with a thud.

I barely register the elevator stopping as I yank out the earbuds.

“Roman?” He’s still. Too still.

I push at him. “Roman?” Panic wells up, threatening to drown me.

He doesn’t answer me. He doesn’t move. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I scream his name, beating at his shoulders, but he doesn’t move an inch. He doesn’t respond at all.

Terrified and confused, I start shouting for his partner. “Mr. Jones! Help us.” A dam bursts inside of me and suddenly, I’m sobbing so hard that my chest feels like it’s breaking apart. “Roman, wake up… Please. Mr. Jones, help us.” Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.

The heavy weight of Roman’s body is lifted off me and I blink up at two men, my tears making my vision wavy. I only recognize one of them—Mr. Jones. His dark eyes are sympathetic.

“I’m sorry you had to be a part of this, but Roman was a double agent. He’s also known as Nikolai Romanov. We suspect Nikolai is his real name and Roman Smith is an alias.”

I feel faint. Let’s play a game. I’m a Russian assassin. Call me Nikolai.

Mr. Jones grabs me before I fall to the floor. “We have reason to believe Nikolai was going to kill you once his mission was over.”

“Why? Why me? I know nothing…nothing at all.” My gaze slices back to Roman. There’s a gun in his hand, lending credence to Mr. Jones’s statements.

“What do I do? I don’t know what to do.” I’m rambling now. I’m losing it altogether.

Mr. Jones rubs my back. “Come with me to the embassy. We’ll get you sorted.”

I nod, shaky and nauseous. For some reason, I try to turn, to get one last glimpse of Roman, but Mr. Jones shakes his head. “It’s best not to look back. My men will dispose of the body.”

“He’s really dead?”

“One shot to the head.”

“And he was really a double agent?”

A grim look covers the agent’s face. “The very worst. He’s killed and tortured so many, including women. They were his specialty.”

I wrench away from him, stumbling out into the hallway, and then puke in a potted plant. Tears stream down my face. I can’t comprehend what’s happening. I don’t know who’s telling the truth, not really.

The only thing I’m sure of is…

The Roman I know and love is dead.

Chapter Twenty Roman

I WAKE UP with a start, my body moving as if still in motion. My vision is blurry as my arms shoot out, searching…protecting.

Everly. I have to protect her. I have to— A sharp pain comes crashing down on top of my head. It feels as though someone has taken an ax to it.

“Motherfu—” I bite back the curse and wince, gripping my temple and hoping the pressure from my fingers will alleviate some of the pain.

Strong hands grip my shoulders and force me back down. “Settle down. You’re no good to anyone right now, cuz.”

With a harsh breath, I force my body to relax and focus on the man leaning over me.

Black hair, pale blue eyes, and a smirk I want to punch greet me.

Ben’s father, a man long dead, was the youngest of Dmitri Romanov’s sons. I remember when he first came to live with Grandfather. Ben had only been five and followed me around like a puppy. An annoying, nosy puppy who copied everything I did.

“You shot me in the head.”

He rolls his eyes. “I barely grazed you.”

I grunt.

“You look like shite, by the way,” he says, his smirk turning into a grin, complete with dimples. So innocent he looks. “Then again, an old man like you…your reflexes have to be slowing.”

Brat.

Although I’m still suspicious of him, it is a comfort to find his face above me.

I hold out my hand. “Help up an old man,” I order.

He takes it and pulls until I can sit on my own. My stomach roils in the opposite direction of the spinning room. Darkness threatens to overtake me, but I refuse to go down again. Instead, I picture Everly.

Her face, her sweet smile…the trust that had shone in her eyes.

I have to find her. “Where is she?”

“With Viktor.”

Terror for her turns my veins to ice, nearly paralyzing in its intensity.

“He won’t kill her because he believes you dead and therefore unable to kill Sebastian or Vladimir,” Ben says pleasantly, sitting across from me. He pulls a knife and an apple out of his pocket, rubs the fruit on his trousers, and then begins to carve.

My vision sharpens on his knife. Despite his playful cockiness, my cousin the computer nerd is just as much of a killer as I am. He was raised in a killer’s household, and while Grandfather might be grooming him for other things, every Romanov knows how to take a life.

“Why did you let him have her?” I swallow, not in fear, but because my mouth is dry. How long have I been out?

My cousin gives me a look, then pops a slice of apple into his mouth, taking his time as he chews and swallows. “I had no choice. I couldn’t take you and her at the same time. He would have become suspicious.”

“Viktor assured me that the financier planned to kill Everly should I not perform the task at hand,” I say through clenched teeth.

“How did you get me out of there? I can’t imagine Viktor not confirming my death.”

“He thinks I’m on his side and trusted me to dispose of your body.”

“His side for what?”

“Viktor’s working with someone who promises him that he will be his second in power. Rather crafty, if you ask me. No one goes after the bloke who’s second in command. Apple?” He holds out a slice to me, knife in his grip. I could take it from him in an instant and slice his throat. He knows this. He knows many things, some of which I do not, including the full story of how he was able to bring me here.

“No.” I look around the room. It’s old, but not in disrepair. There are dozens of computer screens displaying codes or live camera shots hanging above a large table covered in keyboards and empty bottles of water. A large black chair is in the middle of it all. Command central, I suppose. “Where are we?”

“Berlin. One of my safe houses. It’s been forty-eight hours since you were shot.”

Panic flows like ice through my veins. My hands fist. “And Everly?”

“Also in Berlin.”

“At least there is that.” My jaw works.

“She’s unharmed, Nikolai. The last time I checked on her, she was still under the assumption Viktor and his team were the good guys.”

The last time he checked… Jesus. “He will get nothing from her.

Nothing. She knows less than nothing—only what I’ve told her.”

Ben’s eyes are knowing as they rake over me. “You really do care about her, don’t you?”

“I care about her safety. I’m the reason she’s in this mess in the first place.” I swing my legs off the bed, smoothing down my shirt and frowning at the drops of blood. Tentatively, I touch my head as I stand. Dizziness has me swaying, and my hands grasping at thin air.

“Head wounds are a son of a bitch, yeah?” Ben jumps to his feet, steadying me.

I grab Ben, twisting his shirt with my fist and putting my face millimeters from his. “Do. Not. Play. Games. With. Me.” My cousin’s eyes widen fractionally, but I know it’s not because he’s afraid of me. No, it’s because I’m not composed.

But I’m past giving a damn.

“I’m on your side, Roman. Always have been, always will be.”

“Blyad,” I mutter. Letting go of the material, I shove him away and stumble to the bed.

“If you recall, I was the one who helped you recover the last time you were shot.”

I sit down, exhaling against the sudden pounding in my head.

“You were ordered to.”

“Was I?” He goes back to his apple, slicing and eating it as if he hasn’t a care in the world. “In any case, Everly thinks you are—were —a double agent gone bad. He also told her that she was to be your next victim, once you were done with her.”

Is he serious? I could never be done with Everly, but I did have another rather large problem—bad reputation notwithstanding. “To her, I’m dead.”

“Shall we leave her with Viktor then?” Ben cocks his head to one side, studying my reaction like a good little assassin. “Perhaps he’ll let her go. After all, you say she knows less than nothing.”

Terror gives way to raw fury. “I won’t leave her with him. Would you leave the woman you…” I grind my teeth together at the unexpected rush of emotion that I feel at the thought of never seeing her again. Never touching her soft skin or seeing her smile. “…were responsible for with that cold-blooded bastard?”

Ben lets out a thick sigh, as if my response has disappointed him.

“I would not. Yet, it is in your best interest to remain dead.”

“How so?”

Ben smiles slowly, and in that smile I see myself. Never again will I underestimate my cousin. “A dead man can’t be killed.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Kidnap her.”

I grunt. “Do you really think that will work?”

“It worked in Prague,” he reminds me. The little shit.

Slicing my gaze to the monitors, I consider Ben’s surveillance system…and his cockiness.

“When do we leave?” I ask. My body is amped up, ready to do murder.

“In twelve hours. You need a bit more rest—and most of the guards have plans to leave by then, since Viktor thinks he won’t need them anymore.” With a grin, he hands me a gun that I didn’t see him grab. “Don’t worry, Nikolai. We will get her back.”

“I’m not worried.” Tucking the gun away, I look at him. “Viktor, however, should be very afraid.”

Chapter Twenty-One BEN PARKS THE car along the street of an East Berlin district known for housing skinheads, and waves away the prostitutes that wander over to us.

“One block up is our target,” he says, cutting the engine. “Do you remember the plan?”

“Are you serious?” I pull on a pair of black leather gloves.

“You did get shot in the head two days ago.”

“Shut up.” I get out of the car. “It was just a flesh wound.”

Unlike in the rest of Berlin, very few people are walking about or shopping here. Only a handful of shops are open. Most are empty.

Deserted.

Ben joins me on the sidewalk and we start walking quickly to the nearest alleyway. The tall buildings block out the afternoon sun, and the air is musty smelling. Trash litters the ground—broken bottles, hypodermic needles, and the occasional condom.

A dog barks in the distance. A woman screams, and a baby cries.

“Almost there,” Ben says. “I took out their security system earlier this morning and replaced it with looped footage of what it’s supposed to be seeing.”

“I thought that only worked in movies.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Ben admonishes. “Try saying good job, Ben.” He has a point. I wouldn’t have done that; I would have gone in, guns blazing, and taken out every man in my way, possibly forcing Viktor’s hand. “Good job, Ben.” Stopping in the middle of the alley, he gives me a hug. “I’m so proud of you for using your words instead of resorting to grunts.”

I shove him away. “Be proud another time. Everly needs me.”

Rolling his eyes, he flips open a battered-looking box and punches in a code on a formerly hidden keypad. The door swings

open slightly. “Let’s go.”

We jog down the hallway, encountering no one. It is strangely silent. Just as I begin to think that Viktor has left, I hear a woman scream. The fine hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I break out into a dead run, uncaring of who hears me.

“Damn it, Nikolai. Fucking wait,” Ben shouts, his footsteps echoing with mine.

Two men appear out of nowhere, guns aimed. Two bullets whiz past my head and the men slump to the ground.

“Bal’shoye spaseeba,” I say to Ben, who is now running alongside me. Thank you very much.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I flip him off and he laughs at me.

As we pass, I tap them each in the head with one more round to help speed things along.

I come skidding to a halt when a door bursts open and four more men rush into the hallway. They are unknown to me. Viktor has gone beyond our circle and has employed his own, just as my cousin warned me on the car ride over.

“Go get Everly. I’ll take care of them,” he shouts, throwing a canister at them. Smoke pours out, making my eyes water and nearly rendering me sightless. I run in the opposite direction.

A man shouts in the distance—Viktor.

A woman screams back at him—Everly. She sounds enraged. This is good. A pissed-off Everly is an alive Everly.

Slowing down, I force myself to take my time getting to her. The room where she is being held is only steps away.

The floor creaks. I bite back a curse.

“Nikolai, why don’t you join us?” Viktor says.

“Stop it,” Everly chokes out. “Stop messing with my mind like that.”

Gun raised, I enter the room. Everly is facing the other way, but Viktor—the bastard—is staring right at me. His eyes widen in surprise. He was messing with her mind.

I take in the room. It’s dark, but for a single light shining on Everly. Her hands are bound at the wrist, pulled tight behind the

chair. There are bruises on her arms.

“Down to seven lives now?” he asks.

“Please stop.” She begins to weep. The sound rips at my heart, but I can’t react. Not yet. “I told you I don’t know anything.”

“She’s right,” I say and her head jerks up. “As I informed you many times, Viktor, I told her nothing.”

“Roman,” she says, trying to get a good look at me.

“I am here. No games, love.”

Viktor shakes his head. “But they are so much fun to play.”

“You are one sick fuck.” I take aim at his head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“You’re not me.” I fire the gun, but he shoves Everly backward at the same time. I move to catch her, turning the chair to one side as I trip Viktor. He falls on his face, hitting the floor with a groan and a thud.

Pulling out my knife, I cut through her bonds, put the blade away, and then help her up. Finally, she looks up at me and I want to tear him apart with my bare hands. Her lip is split and there is a dark bruise on her cheek, another cut above her eye and a gash on her forehead. “You put your hands on her, you bastard. For that you will pay.”

Everly is half dazed as she gazes at me.

“Stay here, solnyshko.”

“It is you,” she says, and I kiss the top of her head.

“Of course it is.” Then I stride to Viktor and kick him, sending his body rolling. I wait until he attempts to get up before kicking him again, this time in the face.

He coughs and grunts, blood dribbling down the side of his mouth.

“I am unarmed,” he says and then spits.

“So is she,” I say.

He holds up one hand. “This was for your own good. She was becoming a distraction. You stopped taking jobs because of her.”

I punch him in the mouth, knocking loose a few teeth and giving him a busted lip identical to Everly’s. Pulling out my knife again, I open it with a flick of my wrist, just the way he taught me.

No doubt he thinks he will win tonight.

Blood running down his neck, he gazes up at me. “No piece of ass is worth—” I slice his skin open above his left eye. He grunts in pain. “Your anger is driving you. You will lose, Koyla. You have no idea who set this in motion. No one can be trusted, not even Benjamin.”

Grabbing his arm, I hoist him to his feet and twist his elbow sharply to the right. He growls, breathing hard through the pain he must feel.

“I will win,” I snap. Lifting the knife for him to see, I thrust the blade into his gut, twisting it.

He threads his fingers in my hair, yanking until my eyes water.

“Wrong spot,” he pants. “I taught you better than that.”

I press my gun against his throat. “Is this the right spot?”

Dragging it up his neck, I shove the gun in his mouth. “Or is this better?”

His black eyes widen, even as more blood drips down his forehead. “An easy death is too good for you.” Quickly, I shoot him in each knee, and then the lower abdomen, right beside where my knife is sticking out, hilt first. He falls to the floor howling in pain and cursing me, much like Petrov had done.

“I wanted you to join us,” he coughs, blood bubbling out of his mouth.

Aiming for the center of his forehead, I set my jaw. “Go to hell.”

Then I pull the trigger. Blood and detritus spatter on the wall behind him.

Everly screams and then falls silent.

Ben skids into the room. “We have to go.” He nods in Everly’s direction and I turn. She’s like a statue from my worst nightmare, pale and unmoving, but for her eyes. They are wide with terror. She has seen everything. She has watched me take a man’s life right in front of her.

I start in her direction and she jumps, cowering into the corner.

The pitiful sight nearly sends me to my knees. After shoving my gun into my holster, I hold up my hands. “It’s over, love. No one will hurt you now.”

“You’re alive,” she whispers, after what seems like an eternity.

“Everly,” I rasp, reaching for her. “My solnyshko.”

A hard slap to my cheek sends my head snapping to the right.

“How dare you.” She punches me in the stomach, surprisingly strong for a woman in her condition, and I let out a small oof. “Why did you lie to me? Why did you bring me here and let me think…” Balling her fist, she pulls back and lets it fly, but I capture it before she can make contact.

Her eyes flash like emeralds in the sun, bright like fire in an otherwise drab room. “Let go of me.”

“Like this.” I reposition her thumb. “Otherwise, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Another slap, but I’m too numb to feel a damn thing. “I already hurt,” she shouts. “He hurt me, but you hurt me worse.”

I make no move to defend myself. I allow her to pummel me, forcing my gaze on her face. Tears get caught in her lashes and run out of the corners of her eyes. “Damn you, Roman. Nikolai. Damn you.”

She splays her hands on my chest, her head falling against me as her fingers tighten and grab the material of my coat. Carefully, I put my arms around her, whispering nonsense words in Russian, until she stops crying.

“We need to go, but you have to close your eyes.”

“Why?” She sniffs.

“Trust me…you don’t want to see what’s in the hallway.”

She hesitates. I know she will never trust me again, but she obviously needs me to escape this hellhole. Finally, her eyes flutter closed. “What happens now?”

“We leave this place.” This time we’re going to the house I keep on the outskirts of the city, and not back to Ben’s apartment.

Ben catches my eye and he tips his chin up at me. “Later, cuz.”

A small nod is my only reply, before I turn my attention to the trembling woman in my arms. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty-Two THE SILENCE IS nearly overpowering as Everly and I travel to a house I own on the outskirts of Berlin. The heavy weight that should have lifted once she was out of immediate danger has only grown more oppressive, like being slowly smothered with a wet blanket.

I reach for her hand, but she jerks it away and leans closer to the car door. My hand remains in the air for far longer than I want to acknowledge before grabbing the wheel of the car again.

“Do you want to talk?”

“No.” “Are you hungry, thirsty… Did he let you sleep?”

“The first day he did.”

“Did he…”

“Other than to hit me, neither he nor the men with him touched me, if that’s what you want to know.” She turns to me as we slow down at the modern gates guarding the centuries-old mansion. I make a quick call and they open.

“Does that make you feel better? To know I’m not damaged goods?”

“Hell yes, it makes me feel better, but only because I know that’s one less thing you have to come back from.” I pull the car forward and the gates close behind us. “Do not make the mistake of trivializing my concern for you.”

“Must be nice,” she says and my knuckles turn white. I have the steering wheel in a death grip. Never before have I been so enraged, never before have I lost so much.

“Must be nice?” I growl, parking the car. “Must be nice?” I turn to face her, my jaw clenching. “There are a multitude of emotions running through me at this moment, but nice is not one of them.”

She shrinks away from me, and I take a deep breath before getting out of the car. I briskly walk to her side and open the door as

one of my staff greets us. It is Gustav, a man who has worked for me for years. He doesn’t blink at the sight of blood, or the fact that Everly looks as though she’s gone a couple of rounds in the ring.

“Your rooms are ready. Should you require anything further, we are at your disposal, sir.”

“Thank you, Gustav,” I say and follow him into the house.

For some reason, Everly allows me to touch her, when I expected her to fight me. I take her to my room first, dismissing Gustav with a slight nod. “Shall we get you cleaned up?”

Everly makes a noise, one that I assume is consent when she allows me to guide her inside my bedroom. As soon as we walk inside the bathroom, I release her to fetch my supplies from beneath a marble-topped cabinet.

“You might need stitches for the gash in your forehead.”

She says nothing at first, just looks at me, the room, and then in the mirror. “Okay.”

Running warm water in the sink, I add a bit of soap and toss in a soft cloth to soak in it. “You need to get out of your clothes, love.”

She hesitates, and then unsteady hands go to her tattered sweater’s hem. Gently, I push them away and undress her myself. In a matter of seconds she’s standing in nothing but her bra and panties. The vivid bruises on her pale skin are obscene in the bright lights.

“Good God, sweetheart.” I close my eyes. “What you have endured.”

“The water is about to overflow,” she says and I spin around, opening my eyes.

Turning off the water, I wring out the washcloth. “Come here, please.”

Stiffly, she crosses the small space between us, wincing as I begin to wipe the dried blood from her wounds. When I dip the cloth in rubbing alcohol and make another pass, her eyes fill with tears. But other than the initial hiss of pain, she doesn’t react at all. This is not good. Not good in the least.

“No stitches,” I say, relieved. “But if you did need them, I could do it.”

“Of course you could,” she says.

Ignoring that little dig, I examine the rest of her face. “Your lip is more crusted blood than actual wound, and the scrape above your eye will heal fairly quickly.” Lightly running two fingers over the bruise along her cheek, I say, “This will take a while. I’m sorry.”

She grabs my hand and flings it away. “Stop.”

“I won’t touch you there again. Give me your wrists.”

“No.” Taking a step back, she grabs a towel and wraps it around her.

“You need medical attention, love. Your wrists are practically shredded. Let me help you,” I say as gently as possible. “I promise to be very careful with your wounds.” I can’t promise for it to be pain free, because the skin on her wrists is raw.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Don’t touch me anywhere again.”

“What did Viktor tell you?”

Her gaze skitters away. “It’s not just what he told me.”

Unease grabs hold of me. “Then what is it?”

“Pictures,” she rasps, fat tears rolling down her cheek. “He made me look at picture after picture of the people you killed. There was a woman—she looked like she was sleeping, except her head was at the wrong angle.”

“Fuck.” I move toward her and she backs up, her hands coming between us, as if to protect herself from me. I freeze, letting my arms hang loosely at my sides.

“He said those people had done nothing wrong. That you killed them for money.”

“Every single one of them deserved to die,” I say softly, lifting my chin. Shame washes over me. I flex my fingers. “However, I was paid to end their lives.”

Her gaze returns to mine. “How could you? Why wouldn’t you just turn them over to the authorities, if they deserved to die?”

“The authorities?” Shaking my head, I let out a harsh laugh.

“Love, some of those people were the authorities.” I hold up my hands, palms facing out. “I am what I am, Everly, but I do not murder the innocent.”

She locks in on my hands. “Your tattoos—are those for all the people you…” she swallows, “…killed?”

Wordlessly, I nod. “It lets others know what I’ve done, and to stay away.”

“Except me,” she says. “Except stupid, gullible me who thought your tattoos were hot.”

I open my mouth to speak but she forestalls me with a look.

“Please leave me alone. I need time to process everything and figure out the truth.”

“Fine. If you want the truth, simply ask, and I will give it to you.

But in the meantime, I’m here if you need me.”

Her chin tilts up. “I won’t need you.”

“As you wish.” I stride out of the bathroom, intent upon drinking myself into a stupor, but the sound of her crying reaches me before I get to the bedroom door.

I can’t just leave her, not like this. Sinking to the floor, I listen to her sob. Watch and wait, until I hear water running and nothing else.

But I don’t leave until I hear her rummaging around the bathroom, and even then I lean against the outer wall of the bedroom and wait.

When all is quiet, I slip into the room and find her in bed, asleep. A single lamp is on, whether on purpose or by accident, I do not know.

There is a light knock on the door and I turn to see Gustav standing there. “Can I be of further assistance?” he asks. “I’ve already prepared the blue room for your guest.”

“Thank you.” Striding out of the room, I close the door behind me. “My guest will make use of this room instead.”

“Then I bid you good night.”

“Good night, Gustav,” I say, watching as he hurries down the ornate hallway. It is lined with paintings from the last century.

Former owners of the house and their children, I suppose. I’ve never bothered to check.

I start in the opposite direction. Everly isn’t the only one in need of a shower or rest. Or time to sort things out.

Chapter Twenty-Three TWELVE HOURS LATER, Gustav shows Everly into the study. I don’t bother to stand, mostly because my pride is damaged.

As she walks to me, I study her intently, taking in every nuance— from the hitch in her gait to the gauze wrapped around each wrist.

My gaze lingers on the bruise marring her smooth cheek. A part of me wants to go to her and examine her wounds again. But I know that would be a waste of time.

“Did you not see the clothes I had brought up for you?” I ask.

She’s wearing my robe, the sleeves turned up several times. Her bare feet peek from the bottom hem as she walks. In any other situation, I would find her charmingly seductive.

“Sorry I took over your bedroom,” she says, her eyes dull as she avoids answering my initial question. “I didn’t know.”

“No worries. I slept elsewhere,” I say from my spot in the club chair by the massive window. I glance at the garden, at the maze I have never walked, and take another shot of vodka. “Shall I pour one for you?”

“Pass the bottle,” she orders, and I hold it out to her.

Our fingers touch, and sparks ignite at contact. I want her. I fucking need her, but I know without a doubt, I can’t have her.

She takes a long drink, coughs, and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I hold out my glass and she refills it, then takes the seat across from me.

The robe parts as she crosses her legs, baring soft, slender thighs.

I’m grateful there are no bruises there, unlike on her upper arms and along her cheek. Damn you to hell, Viktor.

I clench my glass and hear a crack.

“I swear to God, Roman, if you break that thing and start bleeding, I will hit you with this bottle. I am done with blood. Done.”

My gaze jerks to her face—there’s no give, no equivocation in her eyes. Her cheeks are rosy from anger and good vodka. But she is still far too pale. Forcing myself to ease up on the glass, I gesture to the plates of food on the table beside me. They are close enough for her to reach.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

“Did you make all this yourself?” she asks, picking up a small sandwich.

“No.” I set the glass down. “My staff did.”

She takes a bite and closes her eyes. “Too bad you couldn’t have been this honest with me before we got on a plane.”

“My deception was necessary to keep you alive.”

Her eyes open. “While I don’t like it, I get that you had to lie to me to protect your identity. But what I don’t understand is why you lied to me about how you felt.”

I dig my fingers into the leather arms of my chair. “What happened between us was real.” But it can never happen again. I must distance myself as much as possible, until everything has played out and I can return her to the States.

“So you say.” She takes another drink, her throat working as she swallows.

My jaw works. “It’s the truth.”

“So you say,” she repeats.

I try a different tactic. “Is there anything you would like to know about me?”

She lets out a hmmpf. “The first thing that comes to mind is how many other women have you done this to.”

“You’re the first.”

Her eyes widen fractionally, and then narrow to green slits. “So you—” “I swear to God, Everly, if you say that one more time, I’m going to bend you over my knee and spank you. I’m done with your anger, however righteous.” I lean forward, but to her credit, she doesn’t shrink from me. Not at all. A bit of pride swells inside my chest.

Viktor has not permanently damaged her spirit. Lowering my voice, I

say, “I want you to understand. I want you to know the truth. But it’s hard, damn it.”

“How so?” she asks, her face expectant and skeptical.

Standing, I walk to the fireplace and begin to pace, my hands laced behind my back. “The only time I’m allowed to be completely honest, to be myself, is in my head. That’s it. Every honest thought, every bloody word is censored before I speak.”

I pause and look at her. “Until you, that is. You came into my shop with your smiles and laughter…and hope for something I could never fully have.” I slam my hand down on the mantel of the fireplace. “Bloody hell, woman. You fucking ruined me.”

Everly stands up and for a split second, I think she’s leaving the room. Instead she walks to me, her steps unhurried. She touches my arm and the muscles bunch up. “You weren’t the only one who was ruined. You weren’t the only one who was given hope.”

Turning, I cup her face in my hands, willing her to understand. “I never meant for this to happen, and not because there’s something wrong with you. Because I’m not the kind of man you deserve.”

Though I’d break every single bone of the next man she welcomes into her bed. I know what’s good for her, but I’m a selfish bastard.

Actually, I’m just a bastard raised by an entire band of bastards.

She licks her lips, and I inch closer, dipping my head.

“Roman—Nikolai, I—” “The name you feel most comfortable saying is the one I will always answer to,” I say against her skin.

“What I said earlier, when we got here, about not wanting you…”

I nod, afraid to break this spell we’re both under.

“I lied.” Slowly, her robe begins to open, and then slide down her shoulders.

Chapter Twenty-Four “ARE YOU SURE?” I ask.

She nods, her hands going to the hem of my t-shirt and lifting it up. “I’m positive.”

Releasing her, I raise my arms and allow her to undress me.

Soon, her lips replace her hands. Soft kisses rain down on my skin, reminding me of our first date. I’m at her mercy right now, even while my body is screaming at me to dominate her.

Forcing myself to allow her to take the lead isn’t easy. It’s pure torture. I can’t allow this to happen. I just can’t. “Even though I’ve killed people?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Yes.” “Why?” She tilts her head to one side, her hair sliding over one bare shoulder. “Does it matter why?”

It shouldn’t, but it does. I should keep my mouth shut and give in to her. “Yes, it matters.”

“What if I don’t want to explain why?” she asks, the look on her face growing uncertain. Perhaps now she’ll reconsider her plan of seducing me. “Maybe I can’t explain why. Maybe I just know what I want.”

Her fingers trail down my chest, lower still to my abs, which contract in response to her light touch. Looking down at her, I stare at the white strips on her wrists as she unbuttons my pants and shoves them down. They are reminders of her time away from me.

Reminders of what Viktor did to her. She could have died.

“Then don’t, love,” I murmur while taking off my boxer briefs.

“I’ll give you what you want.”

Scooping her into my arms, I kneel on the floor and lay her on the white rug in front of the fireplace. Flickering light plays over her

golden body as I sit back on my legs, simply admiring her.

Her nipples harden under my watchful gaze. Unable to resist the temptation, I lean over her, taking one into my mouth and sucking.

Biting. Kissing. Licking. I give the same attention to the other one, until she is moving restlessly under me.

I blaze a wet path down her body, pausing at the soft swell of her stomach to kiss her there. The tops of her thighs, her plump hips.

The dimples in her knees. All the way down to her ankles.

Taking a foot in my hand, I rub the instep and she rewards me with a sweet moan. I slip my hands up the backs of her legs, kneading the muscles as I travel higher and higher.

By the time I’m between her sweet thighs, her legs are parted and her voice is breathless when she asks, “See anything you like?”

I peer up at her through my lashes. “Everything.” Lowering my head, I part her soft curls to reveal her wet, hot flesh. “Try not to bring the house down with your screams, yeah?”

Her hands fist in my hair when my tongue grazes her swollen clit.

She tastes divine. With slow, leisurely licks, I drive us both mad.

“Are you on birth control?” I ask, lifting my mouth slightly. I lick my lips, savoring each drop of her that still clings.

She nods and licks her own lips. “I get a shot every six months.”

“I want to—” Pushing me back, Everly straddles my lap, wet curls brushing my hard cock. “Do it.” She runs her hands down my back and kisses my neck. The hard points of her nipples scrape my chest. “Make me yours.”

“You already were mine.” Cupping her hips in my hands, I position my cock at her entrance and her head falls back, eyes closing in pure pleasure. “You’ll always be mine.”

“Now, Roman.”

“Look at me.” Her eyes fly open. “Know who’s possessing you,” I say as I begin to ease inside. “Who owns you and will raze an entire civilization to keep you safe.”

She gasps, her thighs widening. I rock into her, taking my time and keeping her on edge, not allowing her to sink down on me.

“Know that I would lie, steal, and cheat for you.”

“You don’t have to,” she says. Her fingers dig into my biceps, a welcome stinging pain.

Not until I’m fully seated to the hilt do I speak again. It’s nearly impossible to do so. There is nothing between us. Only the hot, wet clasp of her inner walls. Our bodies are perfectly aligned with one another.

“But I would, love. I would use everything at my disposal.” My heart slams against my chest as she leans up to kiss me.

I kiss her back, mindful of her injuries. Her tongue traces the seam of my mouth and I open slightly, but that’s all she needs.

Boldly, her tongue touches mine, strokes and caresses.

Rolling my hips, I thrust into her, hard enough to make her breasts bounce. I palm her ass and guide her movements, slow and then fast. Hard, then soft. Our bodies become slick. She’s as hungry for me as I am for her.

We can’t stop kissing, can’t stop touching and stroking. “Please,” she whispers in my ear. “I need you.”

Reaching between us, I find her swollen clit and tease it. She whimpers, her thighs tightening. There is something very humbling yet powerful about holding a woman like this. To touch and stroke her, to make her come undone…

Everly’s mouth parts on a cry. “Roman!”

Out of nowhere my orgasm slams into me, shooting down my spine, and I thrust deep. “Ya loobhloo tyeh byah fsyei dooshoi.” I love you with all my soul. I do. I love her more than anyone else I’ve ever known.

Carefully, I lay her on the rug and join her. She runs a hand over my hip and I can’t help but pull her against me, her back to my chest.

Kissing her again, I murmur, “Ya nyee mahgoo zhit byehs tyehbyah.” I can’t live without you.

“What did all of that mean?” she asks, her voice sleepy. Adorable.

“That you look beautiful when you orgasm.” That much is true.

She is exquisite at that moment.

“Oh.” Her sleepy voice turns slightly bashful. “Thank you?”

I laugh, for the first time in days. “You’re welcome.”

* WE ARE AWOKEN by the sound of a vase crashing to the ground. At first, I lie there with her in my arms, enjoying the feel of Everly in my bed.

Earthquakes, while rare, are known to happen here. Rarer still is a woman in my bed. After she had fallen asleep, I had carried her to my room and finally allowed my body to relax enough to join her.

The entire house shakes one more, windows rattling this time. I hear shouting, and the sound of something large crumbling. I sit upright in bed. “Not an earthquake.” I’m nearly positive that the house has just been invaded.

Everly blinks up at me, her eyes sleepy as she snuggles closer.

“Lay back down with me, Roman. It’s too early to get up.”

Silently cursing, I leap out of the bed and grab the outfit that Gustav had brought up for her the day before.

“Get up and put this on,” I say sharply, tossing the clothes on the bed before I dress.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, while quickly dressing in dark jeans and a light blue sweater. She pulls her hair into a ponytail and then slips on her old shoes.

I check the door, and then inch toward the window, grabbing my gun along the way. “I’m not sure. If you need to use the bathroom, now is the time to do it.”

Eyes widening, Everly bolts for the bathroom. She’s out in no time. “What do I need to do?”

“Check the drawer by the bed. There should be a gun and clip, fully loaded.”

“Got it,” she says, just as the door bursts open.

A smoke bomb is thrown inside. I dive for Everly, covering her mouth with my hand as we fall to the floor. “Try not to breathe too deeply and follow me,” I whisper into her ear.

One thing I did see fit to put into this room was an exit. Everly and I crawl to the closet. Pulling her up, I hit the button hidden on the side of a display cabinet for shoes. The wall swings open, and I

send her through first. But before I can join her, someone grabs me. I clamp my hand on their wrist and flip them over.

“Gustav?” Had he set off the bombs?

“A parting gift from V—” I shoot him twice before he can get one bullet off. “You stupid man. Viktor sent you to your death.”

“Roman,” Everly whisper-shouts.

Stepping into the dark passageway, I hit the interior button and the door closes. I lean over, grabbing the bag I had packed in case of an emergency like this and pull out a flashlight, clicking on the light.

“This leads to the cottage on the far side of the estate,” I explain as we walk in nearly complete darkness. Only the flashlight highlights our path. “It connects to an underground tunnel.”

“What about when we get there?”

The house rocks again, sending us stumbling to one side. Dust and plaster fall on top of us. I look at Everly.

“Run.”

Chapter Twenty-Five GRABBING EVERLY’S HAND, I take off. The house begins to crumble behind us, like in an old Indiana Jones movie I’d watched as a child.

However, Indiana, as the hero of the movie, was guaranteed an exit.

Unfortunately, this isn’t a movie set, and I will never be cast as the hero.

“Faster, love.”

Our feet pound against the ancient wood. Gunshots ring out, putting holes in the walls and allowing sunlight to shine through.

“They’re inside the wall,” a man shouts.

Fuck me. “Down.” I shove Everly to the floor, covering her body as bullets begin to rain down on us.

Everly starts to cry. “I don’t want to die.”

“It’s okay. We’ll be okay. I promise.” When the bullets stop, I jump to my feet and peer through the holes, then take aim. One. Two. Three clean shots to the throat. Each man goes down like a heavy sack of potatoes, clutching at his neck.

“Up on your feet,” I say, helping her to stand. I break out into a jog, noting with pride that, despite her tears, she’s keeping up and holding it together.

“Only a little bit further.”

The hardwood floors give way to hard-packed dirt. Roots dangle from above. Exhaling, I slow down and glance at her, putting one finger over my mouth. I have no idea if they’ve discovered this place.

No one knew about my escape route, not even Gustav—the traitor.

Carefully, I climb the wooden stairs leading up into the kitchen and push up a little before assessing the area. It’s empty, the thick layer of dust indicating that no one has been in here for years.

I shove the entire hatch open and motion for Everly to join me.

Wrapping my arms around her, I guide her to a rocking chair and place the bag in her lap. “Hold this, please.”

She looks up at me gratefully. “We made it.”

“Mostly.” I don’t want to get her hopes up. “We still have to get to the outbuilding and into my Land Rover.”

Parting the curtains, I check our surroundings. Nothing. Not a car or man in sight.

“Do you need longer or can we go now?” I ask, trying to be considerate.

Shooting to her feet, she swings the bag over her shoulder.

“Now.” “You would make a fine assassin.” Or she would once she learned how to defend herself properly.

Her brows crease together. “Except I don’t know how to use a gun, and I’ve never killed someone.”

My smile falls. I clear my throat and run a hand through my hair.

“The gun knowledge, I can supply.”

“And the other?”

“I pray to God you never kill anyone.” I grab her hand once more, and head outside.

We make it to the outbuilding and into my SUV without incident.

I start the engine and begin to drive in the opposite direction of the mansion.

“Oh my God,” Everly gasps, looking back.

I glance into my rearview mirror, watching in pure disbelief as the house we just left goes up in flames.

“If Agent—Viktor is dead,” Everly begins, “then who would do that to you—us?”

“I don’t know, but I am going to find out. What do you remember about the day I was shot?”

Everly lets out a mirthless laugh. “Which time?”

“Second.”

“After you were shot, all these men showed up. They were dressed in black, from head to toe. Viktor was more concerned about me, I think, than you, because he was the one to get me out of there.”

“He didn’t stay behind?”

“He told one of the men to get rid of the body.” She runs her hands over her face. “I’m sorry, but I don’t…I don’t remember much

after that.”

“Don’t apologize. You’ve helped me more than you know.”

With a grim smile, I hold up my phone and text Ben. I need his help once more—I need to find out who Viktor was working for.

“I asked Ben to meet us in Barcelona, at the Hotel Majestic.”

Everly glances at me. “We can drive there?”

“We’ll take the train.”

“But I don’t have my passport. I have no idea where any of my things are.”

I train my gaze on the road. “That won’t be an issue.”

Chapter Twenty-Six EN ROUTE TO the train station, I make a stop at Foust’s Watch Repair to get a new I.D. for Everly. In less than an hour, we have the required documents.

She glances at the fake passport. “Eve Smith?”

“It’s easier for us to travel as honeymooners. We’ll attract less attention that way.”

With a sigh, she closes the passport and tucks it into the side pocket of the purse she’d bought while we waited for Foust to finish.

There is another bag as well, filled with resort wear. I don’t think Everly cared what I bought for her. At this point, I think Everly is barely aware of what she’s doing, just following my instructions in order to stay alive, but I have no time to stop and really check on her.

There will be opportunity to rest on the train. It’s a fifteen-hour trip, and I’ve already purchased first class tickets. We will be able to shower and sleep along the way.

Pulling into the parking deck, I find a spot and cut the engine.

Everly just sits there, even as I grab our things and open the door.

“Everly,” I say, touching her leg.

She jumps. “Oh. We’re here.”

Grabbing her purse, she gets out of the SUV. I finish gathering our things, keeping her in sight. This is not good. Although the worst hasn’t happened, yet. We haven’t been reported to Interpol as being terrorists on the loose. Still, the mindless way she’s acting right now is a dead giveaway that something is wrong.

Or she could be suffering from jetlag.

I seize upon that thought. I grab her shoulders and turn her to face me. “Listen to me. We met in Raleigh. You flew to join me in Berlin yesterday and we were married. Now we are travelling to Barcelona for our honeymoon.”

She blinks slowly. “Am I supposed to tell someone that?”

I kiss the top of her head, grab our bags and her hand. “Anyone who asks.”

* EVERLY SHOWERS WHILE I unpack our bags and check my weapons. It’s easy enough to get through security when you know the right people.

But the story I concocted for us is for those who can’t be paid to look the other way.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed in the sleeper car, I drop my head into my hands. I’ve never been this weary before…then again, I’ve never been on the run before, and certainly not with another person.

The door swooshes open and I look up as Everly steps inside, a bag on her arm. “I stopped in the dining car. They made me a to-go bag.”

I motion to the identical bag beside me. “I did the same.”

A little smile curves her lips, lighting up her face. “Guess we should have coordinated better, huh?”

Reaching out, I grab her arm and pull her between my legs.

“Thank you for being so thoughtful.” Releasing my grip, I shift my hands to her hips and lean against her. “God, you feel good.”

She bends to one side, setting the bag down. Her fingers sift through my hair, soothing me. “Have you slept much?”

“Enough.”

“Roman, you need to sleep,” she says sternly.

“Sleep is for the dead.” Which we will be if I don’t stay alert.

She steps out of my embrace. “Then call me a corpse, because I’m exhausted.”

I eye her, taking in the fatigue that clings to her like a shroud.

“Are you feeling well, love?”

“I just escaped imminent death.” Her smile widens slightly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Of course I feel well.” Turning away, she grabs her bag, sets it on the table under our window, and begins to rummage through it.

I do the same with mine, and after a few minutes, we are eating in silence. “Everly…”

“Please don’t,” she says, wiping her mouth. “I’m clean, I’m full, and there’s a bed calling my name. And I’m fairly certain we’re safe aboard public transportation.”

Standing, I cross the small space to gather my things. “I’ll be in the shower.”

“Have fun.”

I exhale, thinking of her forced cheerfulness and the cramped space I’ll have to wash in. “Thanks,” I mutter.

By the time I return to our sleeping cabin, Everly is fast asleep.

The bedcovers are pooled around her waist and her mahoganycolored hair is spread across the pillow. She’s wearing a small tank top that barely conceals her round breasts.

Desire surges inside of me, but I ignore my needs to cross the room and pull the blackout shade down. I have two choices at this moment. One, sleep in the bunk across from her. Two, sleep under her in the same bunk.

Everly’s eyes open. “Why are you standing there?”

I cut off the remaining lights and take off my clothes. “I’m trying to decide where to sleep.”

My eyes adjust to the darkness just as she scoots over and lifts the covers. “With me.”

I don’t argue. I don’t ask to make sure it’s what she really wants.

All I want is sleep and her, and she’s giving me the chance to have both.

I climb in and lie on my side, fitting her against me. She sighs, her body relaxing against mine in slow degrees until she’s asleep once more.

Stroking the soft skin of her bare arm, I calculate how much time we have left before Ben joins us, and how much time is left on the hit that’s still out on my half-brother’s life. Despite Viktor’s demise, the financier has not withdrawn his or her request.

When I asked Everly to come with me to meet my grandfather, I had also told her of a charity event that we would attend, lest she think I was trying to kidnap or murder her.

I grunt at the irony.

The charity event is to take place in two days in Barcelona, and my half-brother, Sebastian, will be there.

Perhaps I should go to warn him. But would he believe me? The few times I’ve met him—introduced as his cousin—he was a prick.

Then again, he was a teenager back then, and they’re all pricks.

Everly snuggles into me, her round ass brushing against my dick, and I start to harden.

Brilliant.

Forcing my brain off, I concentrate on the sound of the train, the noise it makes as it skims the rails, the evenness of Everly’s breathing, and the drip of the water into our sink.

My lids start to droop. I press my nose into her hair and breathe deeply. The scent of my woman calms and inflames me.

Turning slightly, I glance at my mobile and note the time. The train will stop in Paris in a few hours. Time enough for me to sleep and make plans.

Though Ben helped me rescue Everly, I don’t completely trust him. I don’t trust anyone at this point but the woman in my arms.

Chapter Twenty-Seven I AM CLEANING my gun while thinking of the best way to get Everly safely back to America when she wakes up. She pushes her hair out of her face and looks at me. “What time is it?”

“Nearly 10:00 a.m.”

“Are we almost there?”

“Less than an hour. You slept through Paris.”

She frowns. “I would have liked to have seen the Eiffel Tower.”

Inspecting the chamber, I say, “Perhaps when this is over.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs, swings her legs over the mattress and stands up. I try not to stare at the way her breasts strain against the thin material of her shirt as she stretches. I try not to notice that her nipples are hard, or that the panties she’s wearing are barely scraps of lace sewn together.

But she notices me watching, and hurries to dress. “I’m hungry.”

“There is breakfast on the table.” I nod at the bag. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

She stops going through the bag to look at me. “Not just for this, but for saving me. Thank you.”

Uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation, I try to change the subject. “Ben will meet us for lunch at the hotel café.”

Walking to me, she squats in front of me. “I mean it, Roman.

Thank you.”

Setting the now-clean gun beside me, I look her in the eye. “It is hard to be thanked for something that is my fault.”

A tender smile covers her face. She touches my cheek. “You could have left me.”

“I should have left you in Raleigh. The very first day I met you, I should have packed my things and left.”

“But you didn’t leave me then, and you still haven’t left me.”

“Because I’m the selfish fuck who got you caught up in this in the first place.” I hang my head.

Everly touches my chin, lifting it. “How can I help make it better?”

“When I give the word, I want you to run like hell for the U.S. embassy. Tell them you were kidnapped. That you escaped while I was meeting with a client, and you want to go home.”

Bewilderment shines in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s going on right now—it’s too dangerous for you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect you at all times. I can’t allow you to get hurt.”

“Then teach me how to protect myself,” she says, surprisingly undeterred by my reasons.

“I don’t have time.”

She kisses my lips. “I’m not asking for you to train me to be an assassin. I’m asking for the basics, like how to load and how to fire a gun. I know we don’t have time for major self-defense lessons, but I’m a country girl from Asheville and I can scream like a banshee if it comes down to it.”

I stare at her for a moment. “You make me proud. Any other person in a situation like this, who has endured what you have…they would be in the fetal position on the floor.”

“A country girl can survive,” is all she says, before returning to her meal. “Does it help that I can load and shoot a rifle? When I was in high school, I won first place in cross-country shooting sports.

Hitting five targets dead center while running through the woods.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Immensely. But then, why did you need to take self-defense classes with me?”

“Because I thought you needed it.” She pops a grape into her mouth. “There’s a big difference between sport-shooting a rifle at a target, and aiming a Glock at someone.”

Her concern for me, like always, is nearly overwhelming. At one point, while we were in Prague, I might have had her love. I guess now, I can settle for her help.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why the change in attitude?”

Everly levels me with a look. “Either I can continue to be the helpless victim, or I can learn how to fight back. I choose to fight. I choose to live.”

* WE TAKE A cab from the train station to Hotel Majestic. It’s situated in the middle of Barcelona. Made of light-colored stone, the seven-story building is bustling with activity when we arrive.

After handing over our passports, we are shown to a luxury suite and left alone.

“You sure do know how to travel,” Everly says, peering out the window.

“Normally, I wouldn’t stay here,” I admit.

She glances back at me. “Why not? It’s beautiful.”

“It’s too high profile. People come here to see and be seen.” Not exactly the darkness I need to take out my latest contract.

“Oh.” She walks around the room, taking in everything as her hands roam over the bedcovers. “What time are we meeting Benjamin?”

“At noon, but we need to be seated before then.” I exhale. “I still don’t know if I can trust him or not.”

Her brow arches. “So you need the home court advantage.”

Now that phrase I know. While living in Raleigh, I became obsessed with their March Madness and support of college basketball teams. Although, my favorite was not mentioned often—the one with the Pirate mascot.

I grin. “Exactly.”

“And you want to sit with your back against the wall.” She walks to me and pushes me down in a high-back chair, then straddles my lap. “That way you can see who is coming or going.”

“You are a quick learner, Mrs. Smith,” I tease. She frowns a little, so I lean forward to whisper in her ear, “Remember, we are honeymooners in love.”

Her head tilts to one side. “Shouldn’t we be doing more than just pretending we’re honeymooners in love?”

I grab her hips and push up. She moans at the contact and I groan low in my throat. “What did you have in mind?”

Her hands come between us to cup her breasts, teasing me as she pushes them together. “I was thinking of trying out the shower. I always feel so dirty after travelling.”

My hands join hers, my thumbs rubbing over her nipples and making them hard. “What if I make you even dirtier in the shower?”

She lowers her head to mine and sucks on my bottom lip. “Then it’s a good thing we have a lot of soap.”

Letting go of her breasts, I grab her hips and lift her as I stand.

She wraps her legs around my waist, helping me carry her to the bathroom. I nibble on her neck and ear, earning a giggle from her.

“Prepare to get very dirty, love.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight BEN IS ALREADY seated by the time we arrive at the café. And chatting up a waitress. The redhead giggles as he pulls out his phone, probably texting her his number.

I roll my eyes and place my hand on Everly’s lower back. The dress she has on dips low and my palm comes in direct contact with her skin. Skin that only minutes ago, I had the pleasure to kiss, bite, and suck. Wash. We had spent nearly the entire time in the large tub, exploring one another as jets sent streams of water everywhere.

Everly had refused to believe that I could hold my breath under the water long enough to make her come with my tongue, but I changed her mind. Repeatedly.

Ben spots us, that goofy grin never leaving his face as he waves us over. The waitress blows him a kiss and saunters off.

“For someone that might be trying to kill us, he looks pretty happy to see us,” Everly points out as we move to the table.

“He’s not the brightest Romanov,” I say and she snorts. “It took me forever to teach him how to ride a bike properly.”

“You taught him how to ride?”

“And shave. And tie a proper bowtie. Helpless, that one.” I try to make a joke of it, but I know the truth. Ben is like a little brother to me.

“That’s sweet,” Everly says as we reach the table.

Ben stands, greeting Everly first with a kiss on the cheek, and then me with a slap to the shoulder. “What took the two of you so long?”

“—I was hungry.”

“—Nap.” He gives us a curious look. “You ate while you were sleeping, or you slept while you ate?”

I wave away his question. “We need to talk.”

His shoulders fall. “I know.” He watches as I take out my gun and hold it under the table. “Put it away, Kolya. I’ve not betrayed you.”

“That is for me to decide.”

Everly clears her throat and nods to her left, indicating that we are not alone. The server smiles, ready to take our orders. I have no idea what I tell him, because everything inside of me is focused on Ben. “Vladimir is the one behind the attacks.”

I blink. “He wants me dead?”

Ben nods slowly, as if he knows what his confession is doing to me. Though I’m not sure if I do know. For years, I felt nothing for the man, but now…

“Why?” Ben takes a sip of his coffee. “Because you are the natural choice to take over. He wants to live in order to seize power…and protect Sebastian. There will be no trade. He lied.”

They will come after you first. Vladimir had spoken those very words to me. Had I known he meant himself, I would have shot him then and there.

“Who’s Vladimir?” Everly asks, her gaze bouncing between us.

“The most egotistical, selfish man in existence,” Ben replies. “And he’s Grandfather’s firstborn.”

Her brow wrinkles as she looks at me. “Who does your grandfather want to be in charge?”

I know the answer, but I’m afraid by admitting it, that I’ll lose her forever. I’ll never have the pleasure of her company again. Never again be able to hold her hand simply because I feel like doing so. I give myself a mental shake. No matter what I want, she deserves normality. As soon as possible, I have to find a way to get her inside the American embassy.

Ben makes a noise, a cross between a snort and a grunt. “Anyone but Vladimir.”

“Working with family is never easy,” she says.

“That’s one way of putting things.” My cousin grins. “I’m really glad Viktor didn’t kill you.”

I smack the back of his head.

Wincing, he gives me a look. “Well, I am. I like her.”

“It’s okay, Roman,” Everly says, taking my hand and squeezing it.

“I’m really glad I’m alive, too.”

Warmth flows through me at her touch. The softness she brings to my life…I will never be able to repay. “What about the house in Berlin?”

“Vladimir hired Gustav to burn it down. Gustav also hired some local skinheads to help out.”

“No wonder they went down so quickly.” Letting go of her hand, I quickly put my gun away. “Professionals wouldn’t have spent their bullets so quickly.”

Everly grabs a roll and begins to tear at it. “How do you know all this, Benjamin?”

“I hacked into Vladimir’s personal email accounts,” he says with no small amount of pride. “No one in the Bratva trusts him anymore, and there’s a huge lack of trust among the organization as it is.”

“Bratva?”

Looking around, I lean into her. “Mafia. Mob.” “That’s your family business?” she squeaks.

I’m amused by the horrified expression on her face. “Assassin is okay with you, but not crime lord?”

“Yes. Well, no.” She looks at me, and then at Ben, before her gaze returns to me. “But you said you only, ah…bring the bad guys to justice. Does that mean you’re the nice mafia?”

My cousin laughs so hard that his face turns red and it seems as though everyone in the entire café stops eating to look at him. I rub the bridge of my nose. So much for circumspection. But I have to admit it’s my fault for ordering him to meet us here, instead of the privacy of a hotel room.

“Nice… Jesus. That’s priceless, Ev. Priceless.”

“Her name is Everly. Use it.” Although it is part of mine and Ben’s culture to shorten names of those we know and sometimes hold dear, I do not like it. It is not amusing to see him act so charming to her.

Holding up his hands, Ben says, “Yes, sir. Sorry. Everly, that’s damn funny. I’ll have to put it up on my Yahoo group.”

Her roll falls to the table. “There’s a mafia Yahoo group?”

Ben winks at her. “There’s a group for everything.”

“Can we stay on topic, please?” Everly and Ben turn their attention to me. “I work for independent financiers eighty percent of the time. The rest is at the request of our family.”

“And those people are bad guys too?”

“Roman is known for his requirements. No one bothers to secure his services otherwise,” Ben interjects. “He’s the one with a conscience.”

“Will you bring Vladimir to justice?” she asks softly.

I nod grimly. “He hasn’t earned the right to terminate me.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Everly and I travel with Ben to an estate on the coast, so that she can practice shooting a gun in relative peace.

When we pull into the semi-circle of the driveway, the place looks deserted.

“It’s like a fortress,” she gasps, taking in the castle, the sharp cliffs, and the waves crashing in the distance.

“At one time, it was exactly that.” Ben walks with us to the front door and enters a combination on the keypad.

“Please tell whoever owns this place thank you for letting us stay,” she says.

He opens the door with a flourish. “You’re welcome.”

“You own this?” I ask, nonplussed.

Instead of answering, Ben wiggles his eyebrows at Everly. “Who’s ready to waste some bullets?”

* WATCHING EVERLY AIM a gun is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever witnessed. Of course, I want her to be able to protect herself. But to have to resort to this…

Her gun shakes.

I put my arms around her, breathing in her scent as I place my hands over hers to adjust them. “Stand straight. Rest the ducktail along your thumbs. It will give you more control.”

She tilts her head, yellow safety glasses catching the light.

“Ducktail?”

“The part that flares out here.” I indicate the spot.

“Oh.” She corrects her stance and her thumbs slide in closer.

“Are you ready?”

She nods, and I let go. “Take your time.”

Backing up a step, I wait for her to shoot the paper outline of a man. The gun goes off. Once. Twice. Her body jerks with each shot.

Suddenly, she turns, holding out the gun, barrel facing down. “I can’t…it’s too much.”

“It’s not. You can do this,” I insist, taking her by the shoulders and turning her around. “Imagine Viktor standing there, gun aimed at you.”

“He’s dead. Let’s pretend it’s someone else.”

Nearly a week of running, fighting, and being shot at finally catches up with me. “Pick whoever you want, I don’t care.”

“I was just trying to make it more fun, so I wouldn’t be so scared,” she says meekly. “I want to be brave.”

“I want you at the embassy,” I snap.

Her mouth opens and closes. “I thought we were a team.”

Ben joins us before I can say something stupid. He takes the gun from Everly and resets the safety. “Why don’t you take a break, and I’ll work with her. I’ve had my nap, my shots, and everything else you’d require in order to be around her.”

I cross my arms and glare at both of them. “I don’t need a break.”

“Yes, you do,” they say simultaneously.

Ben’s smile is kind as he approaches her. “Let’s start at the beginning, yes? That way, I can correct whatever bad habits Roman has.”

“My Roman doesn’t have bad habits,” she insists, taking the gun from him.

“Your Roman might not, but my Nikolai does.”

“Fuck you!” I shout at Ben. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d have been dead years ago.”

Everly and Ben look at me with wide-eyed stares. Clearly, they were playing. Clearly, I do need a break.

Suddenly, Ben starts laughing. “You’re jealous.”

Hell, yes, I’m jealous. “Of you? Hardly.” I load the clip with more bullets until it is full.

“If you don’t want me to practice with him, I won’t,” Everly says softly. I know she’s trying to defuse the situation, but all I want to do is beat the hell out of Ben.

“You asked to be taught,” I say tightly.

I clench my jaw as she lays her hand on my sleeve. “Please don’t be that way.”

“I’m not being any way.”

“Someone needs a nap,” Ben says in a sing-song voice.

This time, Everly smacks him in the shoulder. “Be nice. He saved me from an explosion this morning.”

“I don’t need you to defend me.”

Hurt clouds her eyes, and I want to snatch the words from the air.

“I know.”

Pissed at myself more than anything, I stride out of the room, tossing over my shoulder, “Have her done in time to get ready for tonight’s charity event.”

Chapter Thirty EVERLY DESCENDS THE stairs, a vision in a black dress that clings to her like second skin. Her hair flows over her shoulders and down her back in loose curls. She smiles at me, confident, yet a bit shy.

Honestly, I’m surprised she’s smiling at all with the way I behaved this afternoon.

“You look beautiful,” I say, holding my hand out to her. She takes it and joins me. I brush my lips over her knuckles, wishing I had jewelry to give her. “I can’t imagine there will be anyone at this event that could rival you.”

Pursing her lips a little, she raises a brow. “Putting it on a little thick to make up for earlier?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Now you are.” She fiddles with my bow tie.

“Earlier, I was not myself,” I admit.

“No, you were every man that’s ever been grumpy, hungry, and tired all at the same time,” she replies playfully. Standing on her toes, she bites my earlobe. “And very, very jealous.”

Automatically, I turn my head to give her better access. “Tell me how I can make it up to you?”

“Good God. Would the two of you behave like adults?” Ben says, walking into the foyer. We break apart, like illicit lovers caught in the act. “You can kiss and make babies after the charity event.”

“Do you forgive me?” I ask her, gazing into her eyes.

She smiles and kisses me softly, paying Ben’s fake groans of outrage no mind. “Yes.” Turning, I pick up the folded silk shawl from a nearby table. “I know it’s not jewels, but I thought you would like to wear this shawl to the party tonight.”

“It’s beautiful,” she breathes, as I drape it around her bare shoulders. She touches the fringe that is shot through with gold

thread. “But when did you have time to buy it?”

I rub the back of my neck. “While I was working out some issues, I ran into town.” Literally ran to the nearest town, as in, on foot.

“Isn’t this special,” Ben says, stepping between us and tucking Everly’s hand into the crook of his elbow. “So very special and dear that I just can’t wait to hear every single detail in the car.”

Everly casts an amused glance over her shoulder. But while I allow him to run his mouth, I will not allow him to escort my woman.

I grab Ben’s shoulder and squeeze. “Perhaps Everly should walk with me. I would hate it if she tripped and you got your arse kicked.”

Winking at Everly, I take her from Ben and put her where she belongs. Right by my side.

* THE CHARITY EVENT is in full swing by the time we arrive. Millionaires, billionaires, oil moguls, Hollywood elite, and politicians mingle with local entrepreneurs.

“Is he here?” I murmur to Ben, taking a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray and handing it to Everly.

“My sources say that he is.”

“As did mine, but things have changed.”

“Sebastian is notoriously punctual. Or is that annoyingly punctual?”

“Holy crap,” Everly says, excited. She downs her drink in one gulp and nearly does a dance. “Ian Romanov is here. Do you think Zoe is, too? I totally want her autograph. Can we deviate from the plan so I can fangirl over her?”

I look across the room, finding the man Everly has mistaken as his brother. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that is not the movie star. It’s his twin brother.”

She pouts a little, adorably so. Then her face grows serious. “His family is rumored to be in the mafia.” Her eyes widen, the black liner making them seem impossibly huge. “Y’all are related, aren’t you?”

“We are.”

“Cousin? Uncle?”

“Grandfather,” Ben supplies with a snort. As discreetly as possible, I step on his shoe and put all my weight on it. “Son of a bitch!”

“I believe you had some reconnaissance to do.”

“Not if my toe’s broken. Damn it, Kolya, grow a sense of humor,” he growls, limping away.

With a slight smile, I turn my attention back to the woman beside me. “Sebastian and Christian are my half-brothers. Only a handful of people, not including them, are aware of this. They both think me their cousin, the son of Vladimir’s middle brother.”

Understanding dawns. “Your own dad wants to kill you?”

“So it seems.”

“Then why are we here, instead of kicking his butt?” She sticks out her leg and lifts the hem of her already short dress. “I’m packing heat. Ben gave me a leg holster and a smaller gun.”

My bloodthirsty, sexy little American. I think I’ll keep you.

“Because there is a hit on his son as well, and I need to warn him.”

“Why do you need to do that?” she asks, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. She’s nervous, excited, and afraid. “Can’t Ben send him an email, and we can go home?”

“Remember what I told you about my policy of only killing the bad guys?”

She nods.

“I am the one who has been sent to kill him, yet he is entirely innocent. A bit shady in his dealings, but a blight on mankind— hardly.”

“Can’t you just say no?”

“I did.”

“Why didn’t the financier call it off? Why are we here instead of… instead of…oh God, it’s because of me, isn’t it?”

Silently, I nod. She laces her hand in mine, holding my fingers in a death grip. Her eyes scan the room over and over, like she’s expecting a man with a gun to jump out at us at any moment.

“Everly, we must warn Sebastian. Tonight. Time is running out, and I have no idea if another person has been contacted. Ben is

currently in Sebastian’s hotel room, hacking into his laptop for more information.”

“What are you waiting for?” She sets down her empty glass and fluffs her hair. “Introduce me to your cousin.”

Weaving our way through the packed ballroom of the hotel, we finally arrive where Sebastian is sitting. Alone, nursing a drink. Odd considering his reputation with women.

He stares out the open French doors, obviously deep in thought.

Everly clears her throat and he turns his pale eyes on us. “Can I help —oh, it’s you. What have I done this time?” he asks, completely unsurprised to see me.

“You haven’t met me, that’s what,” Everly says.

Sebastian sits up a little, leaning forward slightly. “You would be correct.” He stands and takes Everly’s hand. “Are you my present for tonight?”

“Uh…no. Sorry.” Everly smiles, looks up at me for help, and then slowly pulls her hand out of his. “I’m his present.”

His gaze rakes over her. He is very interested in my Everly. “How much?”

“Pardon?” Does he really think she’s an escort?

“How much? I’m happy to compensate her for her time.” He tilts his head to one side. “Is the accent real or affected?”

“Everything about me is real,” Everly snaps.

He laughs. “God, yes. You will do for tonight. Perhaps for longer, since I can’t have her.”

“You can’t have me either.” Everly turns her nose into the air.

Undeterred, Sebastian reaches out and gently grabs a thick lock of hair. “The color’s wrong, but in the dark…” He shakes his head.

“What am I thinking, no one could ever be her. No one could ever be Daisy.”

He’s mooning over a damn flower? Just as I am about to break every bone in his hand, Everly smacks it away. “Can I shoot him? I don’t have the same policy as you.”

Forcing down a laugh, I shake my head. “Not this time.”

He sways slightly. “You’ve been sent to kill me? Can I call Daisy first? I need to tell her I’m in love. Me, Sebastian, not Jules. The

bastard.”

Jesus, he’s drunk, and over a woman named Daisy. I’ve seen the same signs of desperation in myself. “No, but you can come with us.

There are some things I have to discuss with you.”

“I’d rather you kill me.”

I take him by the arm, forcing him to follow along. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t give a shit about what you would rather have happen.”

Ben meets us in the parking lot of the hotel, his limp coming back as soon as he spots us. “You owe me, Romanov.”

“Get in line,” Sebastian slurs. “Benji.”

Everly opens the door. “Get in the car.”

He briefly touches her cheek. “I hope Nikolai killed the man who did this to you.” It is strange to think that even in his drunken state, Sebastian knows I would avenge her. Stranger still for him to assume I did not put my hands on her. The times Sebastian and his brother have visited… They were not under the best of circumstances.

“He did.”

“Good.” He nearly falls inside Ben’s car. “Drive me to Holland Springs, please. I need to see some cupcakes about a woman.”

“Not quite how I remembered him,” Ben says, sliding into the driver’s seat. I put Everly in the front and sit in the back with Sebastian, in case he decides to get personal with her again, and she decides to shoot him.

“His attitude has actually improved since the last time,” I say, pushing his head off my shoulder. “Move your arse over, Romanov.

Let’s take him to your place, Benji, shall we?”

“The dungeon’s quite nice this time of year,” he says.

“Take us to Hotel Majestic,” Everly says. “He can stay in our room.”

“I can live with that,” Ben says, and heads for the heart of the city.

Chapter Thirty-One THE DOOR TO my room is cracked open slightly. Gun drawn, I motion for Everly to step back. Ben rolls his eyes and Sebastian, slightly sober and completely back to his usual self, crosses his arms over his chest.

Confident that Everly can mostly take care of herself, I ease the door open, pushing my gun through.

“Put the gun down, Nikolai, and come inside. I’ve been waiting for you to get back.”

“Grandfather?” I whisper as the door opens.

A bodyguard steps forward and holds out his hand. I shake my head. “It stays with me.” However, in deference to my grandfather, I holster my gun.

Dmitri Romanov stands in the center of the room, his bright blue eyes missing nothing as the rest of my entourage follows me inside. A second bodyguard closes the door behind us, and that’s when I spy Vladimir.

Immediately, I grab Everly by the arm and put her behind me.

A smile plays on Grandfather’s lips when he sees this. He waves us over. “Come now. Let me meet the woman responsible for saving my grandson.”

Everly’s hand laces with mine, her palm damp as we cross the room.

“Nice to meet you,” she says quietly. “I’m Everly Andrews.”

My grandfather gives her a bear hug, lifting her off the floor. “You are welcome to my home anytime, Everly. Anytime. I owe you much for saving my Nikolai.”

Her face is nearly squashed against his chest as she says, “You’re welcome. I’d love to visit sometime when people aren’t trying to kill us.”

“That’s her way of saying it’ll be a cold day in hell before she comes back here,” Ben scoffs in the background. My hand itches to smack him. I hear a slap and then Ben shout, “What the hell?”

“You sounded ridiculous, Benji,” Sebastian drawls.

Guess I’m not the only one who thinks Benji needs to be taught a lesson every now and then.

“Would you stop with the nickname?”

“Only if you stop with the one-liners.”

“Can’t handle any more?”

Grandfather puts Everly down and eyes the two men behind me as they argue. “Enough,” he says, and they go completely silent.

Everly takes the opportunity to run back to my side. Yes, she’s confident. Yes, she’s armed, but she’s not stupid. Ben moves closer to us as well, stepping just ahead of Everly. He is protecting her, I realize.

“While I appreciate this reunion, I have a flight to Morocco to catch,” Vladimir drawls.

Grandfather steps back, leveling Vladimir with a ferocious scowl.

“You will stay as long as I require.”

Vladimir sits down, crossing his leg at the ankle while attempting to look bored. “Very well.”

“Benji, please share what you’ve learned,” Grandfather asks pleasantly, sitting in a club chair by the fire. A bodyguard hands him a cup of tea. “Thank you, Adam.”

“Your suspicions were right, Grandfather.”

“What do you have to say for yourself, Vladimir?” Grandfather asks.

My father looks at me—briefly—then begins to speak. “I had to make sure Sebastian remained safe. Viktor attempted to help with that, after I explained the situation, and when that failed due to his paranoia over the organization toppling, I used Nikolai’s own staff against him. Like any other father, I did what was best for my son.”

I’m your son, too, you asshole. My muscles gather, my body screams at me to rip him apart. To make him regret ever throwing me away.

Everly chooses that exact moment to wrap her arms around me from behind, leaning her head on me. “It’s okay,” she whispers.

“We’ll make it through tonight. I promise.”

I love you. I don’t deserve you, but I can’t help but love you. The words will never leave my mouth. Never get past the guards that control every thought in my brain.

“You have more than one son. And you could have come to me instead,” Grandfather replied. “Besides, you know Nikolai’s reputation. He would have never killed Sebastian.”

“He was willing to kill me,” Vladimir suddenly shouts. He jumps up from the sofa and marches over to me. I unwrap Everly’s arms, completely prepared to fight him. “You were willing to kill me, because I am a threat to you. You want to rule in my place.”

“Rule what? An empire with two masters? You cannot live in the shadow of the sun.” My jaw clenches. “I have never asked you for anything. Never demanded that you acknowledge me, or my rightful place.”

His face pales a little, his eyes going to Sebastian. “This is ridiculous.” He rounds on Grandfather. “Do you not hear the lies? Do you not see the deceptions that have been played out right under your nose? Meanwhile, there is a contract on my son’s life, and this piece of shit will be paid to see it through.”

“That won’t happen,” Grandfather says.

“Perhaps not by him, but someone will take on the contract.”

“I can guarantee you that will not happen.”

“Father, you are a god, but only in your country.”

Grandfather’s eyes darken. “You fool. I was the one who put out the hit. I was the one to demand that Nikolai be the one contacted.”

The entire room seems to freeze. I stare at my grandfather in shock.

“Why?” This from Sebastian. He looks ready to puke, not that I blame him. It’s not every day you find out your grandfather wants to murder you.

“For two reasons. One, because your father needed to be taught a lesson. He has not been honoring contracts, insulting the very people

who made him an extremely rich man. Two, because I knew my grandson would not kill an innocent. Unlike some, he has honor.”

“Fuck me,” Sebastian swears. He looks at Vladimir. “Damn your pride. Damn everything about you.” He throws his hands into the air.

“I can’t be in the same room as you.”

“Let me explain, Bastian.”

“No,” he chokes out. “You don’t get to do anything but stew in the fact that had my cousin been any other kind of man, I would be dead.

If that even matters to you.” He whirls around, throwing the door open and storming out of the room.

Grandfather stops his bodyguards from going after him with a hand. “Let him go. Now that he sees his father for what he truly is, he can choose a different path.”

“Your mind is going, Father,” Vladimir sneers. “You only have one son left to make sure the Romanov name remains feared. Strong.

Secure.”

“If that were true, then why have you accused Nikolai of trying to usurp your place?” Grandfather takes a sip of his tea. “I quite like this honey, Adam. Do be sure to find out what kind the hotel uses and then buy a case of it.”

Adam nods.

“Can we go now?” Everly asks.

Grandfather looks up at her, his stern expression changing into a soft smile. “Of course, my dear. You, Koyla, and Benji go play. Be young. Vladimir and I still have much to discuss, don’t we, son?”

Vladimir’s expression is sullen as he agrees.

Everly grabs my arm and tugs. “Let’s go. We can get another hotel room.”

Following her, I ask, “Why is that?”

She smiles as Ben punches the button for the elevator. “Because I feel like kissing you all night long.”

“My kingdom for two elevators,” Ben groans.

It takes us no time at all to exit the hotel. The night is warm. The streets busy with young couples and tourists going from hot nightclub to hot nightclub.

Ben whistles at a group of women. They smile and wave him over.

“Later, cuz. Everly.” He kisses her cheek and then jogs to the women.

“That boy,” she says with obvious affection.

We walk along the streets of Barcelona, arm in arm. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

I spy the building I’ve been dreading, yet hoping to find. “Neither can I. But you are safe.” And even if you’re not, I’ll spend the rest of my life watching over you. “Were you shocked to learn that my grandfather was behind it all?”

“Oh yeah. It was like a soap opera in there. A big scary-as-hell soap opera that I never want to watch again.”

I crowd her against a wall, placing my hands on either side of her, and dip my head. It’s now or never, I think. “You were so brave tonight.”

She grabs my tux and pulls me closer. “That’s because you gave me the tools.”

Our lips meet, barely touching at first, then growing deeper as time passes. Removing one hand from the wall, I grab her waist and pull her to me, fitting her curvy body against mine.

Running my hand down her back, I inch her dress higher and higher until I find what I’m looking for. She gasps. “Roman.”

I’m going to miss the sound of her voice.

The gates of the embassy begin to open. A car eases out. I grab her, whirling her around with the small gun in my hand.

“What in the world?”

I march her to the gate. “I’m sorry, Everly. It’s not safe for you.

Even if I left, even if I started over, there are no guarantees you’d be safe.”

“Don’t do this,” she cries, tears running down her cheeks. She pushes at me, tries to make me let her go, but I cannot be moved. I cannot be deterred. I refuse to be deterred, even while my heart is being slashed with every cry, every tear, and every plea. “I’m willing to take the chance with you. Please, don’t send me away.”

“I’m sorry, love. Know that I only do this for your own good.”

Pressing one last kiss to her temple, I shove her inside the gates, and onto American soil. She’s immediately surrounded by men in

uniform. They ask questions while she screams my name and the gates close.

“Have you been hurt, miss?”

“Did someone strike you?”

“Roman, please…”

They lead her inside the building. I stand on the opposite side of the gate, only yards away from the woman I love, while I turn numb.

I turn cold. I become the man I used to be, before he ever met Everly Andrews.

It’s the only way I can survive without her.

After an undetermined amount of time passes, my phone buzzes and I answer it. “She’s inside and safe. They’ve already determined her identity. She’ll be on a plane home by morning,” Ben says.

“Thank you.” I hang up the phone, and then I do what I do best.

I disappear into the shadows.

Chapter Thirty-Two BEN FINDS ME sitting on a bench overlooking the beach. He hands over a cup of coffee and joins me.

“We’ve been ordered to Morocco. Our flight leaves within the hour.”

I glance at him. “On whose orders?”

“Grandfather’s.” He stands, clearly waiting for me to move. “The car is waiting.”

Slowly rising to my feet, I trudge to the car and climb inside.

“What’s in Morocco?”

“Besides beautiful women, gambling, and a new Comic-Con— nothing special.”

I barely pay attention as we ride through the streets. I barely notice when we arrive at the airport and climb the stairs to board one of Grandfather’s planes.

My mind is focused on Everly. On every memory of her. Every kiss. Every conversation. Of the look on her face when she realized I’d betrayed her.

I’m on autopilot as we fly, then disembark to travel to meet Grandfather at his villa. A maid shows us up to the roof.

“Ah, you’re just in time for the show,” he says, gesturing for Ben and me to sit down with him. “Eat, eat.”

Mercifully, he doesn’t ask about Everly. I go through the motions of eating, but everything tastes the same. I have no idea if I’m eating a banana or caviar atop smoked salmon.

A flash of movement near the water catches my eye. “Is that who I think it is?”

“The one and only,” Ben says.

Vladimir climbs aboard his yacht and speaks to a man—the captain of the vessel—before disappearing from sight. Suddenly the

yacht explodes, flames shooting to the sky. I jump to my feet, my mouth open in shock. Adrenaline runs through my body.

“Sit down, Kolya,” my grandfather says.

Only the command in his voice could get me to obey at that moment. My gaze flies to his. “I—I am not responsible for that.”

Ben leans back in his chair. “But I am.”

Shocked, I try to make sense of everything, but I can’t.

“Keep watching. There’s more,” Grandfather says and hands me a pair of binoculars. “In five minutes, twenty degrees west.”

“Vladimir thinks I helped him,” Ben says, digging into his eggs.

“He wired a ton of money into my account to secure my cooperation.”

Pressing my face against the high-powered binoculars, I wait for the more that Grandfather wants me to see.

Out of nowhere, my mother appears. I nearly drop the binoculars.

Then Vladimir appears, looking very alive. Furtively, they look around the marina, and then walk to the last pier, as if waiting for someone. “What the bloody hell is happening?” I growl.

“You’re not the only one in love with someone you shouldn’t be,” my grandfather says. He elbows Ben. “Eh, boy?”

“I wish our parents well,” Ben says. “But I also wish them to hell.”

“What?” I bark.

Ben shrugs. “What else can I do? I have no love for either of them.”

“Explain.”

Grandfather and Ben share a look. “Tell him,” my grandfather says.

“We’re brothers.”

“I’m not so obtuse.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Yet you are completely unaware of what’s staring you in the face.”

I rake my gaze over my cousin. The similarities are there with our dark hair and blue eyes. We are of the same height and build, so we could pass for brothers. I shrug. “All Romanovs look alike.” This is true. With the exception of Vladimir and his twin sons, who are blonds.

My grandfather grunts, smacking me in the back of the head. I wince. “He’s your brother. Accept it. Rejoice in the fact that you are not alone in this world.”

The news is supposed to make me happy, but all I can think of is the wasted years. Years I’d spent with my little brother chasing after me. Time I’d spent teaching him how to ride his bike, tie his shoelaces properly, and shave.

Suddenly, it dawns on me. I hadn’t been denied anything. Except an explanation.

“Why?” “Because the two of you were safer with me.” Grandfather cants his head. “Katerina’s judgment couldn’t be trusted when it came to her husband or her side of the family.”

Husband? “But my mother and father—” Ben clears his throat— loudly. This time I roll my eyes. “Sorry. Our mother and father never married.”

White teeth flash in the sun as my grandfather smiles. “They were married. Against my wishes.”

“And his English wife?”

“Not legal.”

Vladimir is a bigamist. If that were to ever get out, then his “legitimate” sons would lose everything. “Katerina didn’t care about his betrayal?”

My grandfather leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette. “I suspect she did, but who knows what he said or promised her.” He blows out a ring of smoke, and then motions to Ben. “Obviously, she forgave him at least once.”

He laughs at his own joke, while Ben and I sit there in total silence.

I have a brother. A brother I can spend time with and actually acknowledge in public. A brother who took care of me after I got shot, watched over the woman I loved when I couldn’t, and remained on my side, never betraying me.

My grandfather rises to his impressive height. He towers over us when we are standing, much less sitting. A bodyguard hands him a rifle. Slowly but surely, Grandfather steps to the edge of the roof and

takes aim at the lovers climbing into a skiff that will surely take them to a much larger boat. “Though it pains this old man to do this, it has to be done. Thank you, Ben, for agreeing to help me.”

“Happy to be of service.”

A shot rings out. Vladimir goes down, falling headfirst into the water. Katerina screams. I look away.

“Make sure he is dead. He’ll receive a proper burial in London.”

Grandfather tosses the weapon back to the bodyguard. “The two of you are good boys. Go have some fun. Live your lives how you see fit.”

“But what about…” I cannot finish my sentence. Between the shock of my father surviving an explosion and then being murdered in front of me, my grandfather’s offer seems surreal. This entire morning has been surreal.

“You must promise that no one will bother us, or who we choose to be with,” Ben says suddenly. “Nikolai and I would like to attempt to live in the sunlight.”

Grandfather nods. “I swear it.” He hugs each of us, then says, “I must go. Much work has to be done, now that Vladimir is dead, and the two of you are leaving the—how did Everly put it?—ah, yes, the family business. I quite like her, Kolya. Please bring her to visit me.”

He walks away, his bodyguards flanking him. Ben and I don’t say goodbye. We know it won’t be the last time we see him, or the last time he spies on us, like the crafty old spider he is.

Once he disappears, I glance at Ben. “How long have you known?”

“Not very long,” he says, his gaze shifting to the debris-covered marina. Most of the fire has been extinguished by local firefighters. A few boats are scorched on the sides, with melted paint and railings.

“But at some level, I think I knew the entire time.”

“Katerina did not raise you?”

“Nyet. I lived with her sister’s family until Grandfather came to get me.”

Her sister’s family. Not my aunt and her family. That is very telling. “They did not treat you well?”

“They treated me like a dog,” he says, his eyes clouding over. “A dog that was only good for kicking and throwing scraps at…among other things.”

My fists tighten. Ben was younger than I was when he first came to Grandfather’s. There was no way he could have defended himself.

He laughs, but there is no mirth in it. “Calm yourself. They’ve been taken care of.”

“How?” The look he gives me chills my soul. “Computers aren’t the only thing I know how to hack into.”

There’s no need to tell him to stay away from the path I’ve been traveling. He’s a man on his own road. The only way he’ll veer to the right or left is by his choice alone. “This is good to hear.”

“No lecture?” he asks lightly.

I cock a brow. “Only if you left evidence.”

His mouth thins. “I left nothing.”

I adjust my cuff links. “Everly is safe. And home. No one will bother her ever again.”

“So.” He shrugs.

“So?” “You don’t care about her, not beyond this guilt-driven need to keep her safe, because if you did—” Incensed, I jump to my feet, planting my hands on the table. “You know nothing. Nothing of what I feel for her. You’re nothing but a nineteen-year-old zhopa who knows exactly shit.”

That familiar grin of his kicks up the corners of his mouth. “Go to her, bratan.” Brother.

My anger slowly drains away and is replaced with pride. “Blyad. I have no reason to go to Asheville.”

“Not even to personally deliver her last book order?” he asks innocently.

Chapter Thirty-Three Everly One month later

“I

ROMAN,” I inform Miss Fancy. Despite everything, his betrayal in sending me home, I miss him. I love him.

Not that it does me any good. Apparently, I have a penchant for loving the wrong man. At least the first one wasn’t an assassin with family ties to the mob.

But had my ex-boyfriend, Jared, ever made me feel like Roman?

Had Jared ever risked everything to keep me safe?

The cat looks at me for a moment, before hissing and swatting at me. I jump back, wagging my finger at her. “Behave, else I’ll take you right back to Mrs. Tatum, and you’ll have to live with all the other cats.”

Miss Fancy twitches her tail and marches out of the room.

“Stupid cat,” I mutter. “Should’ve left you there.” I never should have gone back to Raleigh, but I had to give my notice to my landlord and pack up my things. There was no way I could continue to live there, not when he was never coming back.

My mother walks into the living room. “Want to ride with me and take your daddy lunch?”

I jump at the chance at getting out of the house. “Sure.” Grabbing my purse, I follow her to the car. “What time does he get off?”

“About the time I have to go in.”

My parents have worked at the Grove Park Inn for over twenty years—my mother as an events manager and my father as head of valet services. They love the place—the history, the décor, the people, the way the hotel is decorated for Christmas…everything.

“I’ll make him supper, Momma. Don’t worry.”

MISS

She gives me a smile as we get in the car and back out of the driveway, then head for the Inn. “That’s sweet of you, honey. But your daddy can make his own supper. Maybe you can find something else to do.”

If that isn’t southern for you need to get a life, I don’t know what is.

“Have you found a place yet?”

Except for that. Silently laughing at my mother’s not-so-subtle hints, I nod. “Next week I’m signing a contract on the cutest house off Page Avenue.”

“Is that where the new brewery’s going?”

A new brewery springs up about every five seconds in this town.

“The one from out west—yes.”

“Hmm.” Her lips thin. “I just don’t know about that area, Everly.”

I sigh. She wants me out of the house, yet she doesn’t approve of where I want to live. Typical mother. “It’s perfectly safe.”

“It’s lacking in social activities.”

Trust my mother to think of that. “There’s always downtown.”

Instead of answering me, she turns up the radio and we listen to bluegrass the rest of the way.

After parking in the employee section, we head inside and find my dad at his office, speaking with a guest over the phone. “White, Ford F-150. Yes, ma’am. Give us five minutes.” He hangs up the phone, radios one of the valets with the ticket number, and then grins.

“My two favorite girls in the world.”

“We brought you lunch.”

He stands, giving my mother a kiss on the cheek. “You do spoil me.”

My mother blushes and waves him off. “You do the same to me.”

“Guys, I’m still here.”

My dad snorts. “How do you think you got here, young lady?”

Now I know how Ben felt when Roman and I got all kissy-faced.

“Stork?”

My mother touches my arm. “I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?”

“I arranged for you to have a massage in the spa. It’s in about twenty minutes, so why don’t you go on down there and relax in the sauna.”

For no reason at all, other than the fact that her gesture is sweet, I tear up. I hug her. “Thank you.”

She pats my back and then smooths my hair down. “Your father and I have been talking about how stressed you’ve been. So we wanted to help.”

Stepping out of her embrace, I give my dad a quick hug. “I’ll be done by the time you’re ready to go.”

“I’ll be here,” he says and winks at my mother.

I walk the underground path to the spa, passing rocks and flowing water. Every so often a soft sheen of light highlights the passage, until I pass a wishing fountain tucked in the corner. Pennies gleam under the lights in there.

I pause, digging through my pockets, until my hand closes around one. “Score!”

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. If I could have any wish come true it would be that Roman comes back to me. That I would open my eyes and he’d be standing in front of me, ready to apologize.

He’d take me in his arms and kiss me until I was breathless. Then we’d sneak away and make love until I couldn’t walk straight. Or maybe he couldn’t.

Opening my eyes, I toss the penny into the water. It lands with a small splash, water rippling. Then I turn around and slam my hand over my mouth, stifling my scream.

“Holy crap!”

Roman is standing there, a package under his arm and a determined look on his face. He says nothing, just takes me in with those sexy eyes of his. He looks as he always does in my imagination.

Tailored suit, button-down with cuff links, and creased trousers.

Black tattoos on his hand. His hair dark and perfectly styled.

My stuffy, starchy bookseller.

“What are you doing here?” I don’t mean to sound so sharp, but I’m torn between excitement and fury. I want to kiss and slap him at the same time.

He holds out his package, and I take it from him. “You forgot your last shipment of books.”

I give him an are-you-kidding look. “You came all the way to Asheville to give me books?”

He nods. “You love books, especially by Zoe Ambrose.”

I place one hand on my hip. “Don’t you mean Romanov?”

A black eyebrow quirks. “Yes.” “Thanks.” I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave him, but he’s not making it easy for me to stay with his silence. “Good seeing you.”

My heart starts to break again as I move past him.

He catches my arm and I look up at his gorgeous face. “I have more to say to you.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry.” He gets down on his knees before me and takes my hand. “I’m sorry for not being the man you deserve. But I would like the chance to be that man. I love you, Everly Andrews.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to admit that,” I say, tears in my eyes. It feels like I’ve waited an eternity for the dense man to admit it. “But I don’t know if I can trust you. What if…what if someone needs you to bring the bad guys to justice and you don’t tell me, go off on your own on a business trip, and get hurt? How can I live with that?”

He shakes his head, his eyes pleading. “You won’t have to.”

“You’d be honest and tell me before you go, or take me with you?”

“Neither.”

I yank my hand away. “I’m not doing this. I want all or nothing with you, and if you can’t be—” His mouth covers mine, giving me a long, hot kiss that makes my toes curl. He pulls away slightly. “I am no longer in the family business.”

“But you said you couldn’t get out. No one can,” I remind him.

“You said it wasn’t safe for me.”

“My grandfather says otherwise.”

“What about you?” I search his face. “Can you live without being Nikolai Romanov, Russian assassin?”

“Yes,” he says simply, but it can’t be that simple.

“Why?” “Because I can’t live without you,” he says softly and I swear my knees turn to jelly. He brushes my hair back. “I can’t live without my sunshine.”

I bite my lip. “I can’t live without you either.” It’s the truth. I can’t expect him to be honest with me, if I can’t give him honesty in return. “But what about your shop, your name…and I have your cat.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “I bet she still doesn’t like you.”

“Not one bit.”

Giving me a side glance, he asks, “How would you feel about living here? There’s a house off Page Avenue that’s for sale. I put in an offer today.”

“That’s my house.”

A knowing gleam enters his blue eyes. “Really?” he says in that clipped accent I love.

I gasp in pure shock. “You’ve been planning this the entire time.

Did my parents help you?”

“Perhaps.” He grins. “Your father and I have had many talks over the phone about the proper way to court a southern lady. I am expected at church service, and then Sunday dinner tomorrow.”

“How did you convince them?”

“Everly, I’m charming when I want to be,” he says cockily, reminding me of his cousin.

A light bulb goes off. “Benjamin helped you, didn’t he?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Perhaps.”

“Tell him I said thank you.” I kiss him lightly on the lips. “I have a massage to cancel. Want to come with me, and then we can get out of here?”

“No.” My face falls.

“I’m the one giving you the massage.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Actually, I was going to wait, knock out the original masseuse, change clothes, and surprise you.”

“Glad you changed your mind. I’d rather our reunion not be in jail.”

We start walking to the entrance of the spa, hand in hand. “It’s hard to think of such things differently. But I’ll try,” he adds quickly.

“For you, the woman I love and adore, I’ll try anything.”

Stopping, I wrap my arms around him and stand on my tiptoes. “I love you, Roman Smith.” I kiss him. “Nikolai Romanov.” I kiss him again. “New identity I don’t know yet.”

“It’s Roman Smith,” he says.

“Why?” “Because that’s the name that brought us together.”

Epilogue Two years later

EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT precisely four o’clock, Everly Smith enters our bookstore to pick up her latest package of romance novels.

Our son holds out his chubby arms as soon as he sees me. He’s all of fourteen months old and keeps his mother running from sunup to sundown.

“Papa! Papa! Missed you!” he shouts, and I hold out my arms.

“Nicky, Nicky!” I shout back playfully. “Missed you, too.”

As soon as Everly puts him down, he runs to me and I grab him, throwing him up into the air. He trusts me to catch him on the way down. And I do, every time.

Sticky kisses cover my cheek.

“Go play with Ben. He’s in the back.” I set him down, and then yell for my brother. He moved to Asheville a little over a year ago to attend the university here and work for me. Though he doesn’t need to financially, emotionally, I think, he needed the normal life—the college experiences and the chance to be a kid. Something neither of us ever had.

“Got him,” Ben shouts. “Fist bump, little man. Let’s go play a new game.”

Everly comes to me, then, her emerald eyes shining. “How’s business?”

“Slow.” Boring. Tedious. But there’s no way I’d admit that to her.

There are times I crave the adventure my life used to be, but my new life, with Everly and our son—the world does not possess enough treasures for me to give it up. “Yours?”

“Fun. Exciting. My newest client’s store features crocheted beards for dogs and cats to wear. They’re selling like hotcakes.”

The woman always did have a way of finding the most extraordinary people. “Excellent.” I kiss her on the nose.

“Wonderful.” I kiss her cheek. But before I go any lower, the bell above my door rings and I straighten.

A man I’ve never seen before walks inside. “Mr. Smith,” he says in an English accent. “Mr. Romanov requires your services.” He nods at Everly. “Providing that Mrs. Smith is agreeable to the terms. He said that there is no one he trusts more.”

My hands curl into fists at the compliment and the enticement. “I no longer provide those services.”

The man smiles. “You’ve never before provided these services.”

He hands Everly a book. Frowning, she opens it and scans what’s inside.

A moment later, she looks up at me, excitement in her eyes. “You need to read this.”

I read the coded message inside. “A duchess has been kidnapped?

But Sebastian is not yet an earl.”

“You are correct. But his good friend, Liam Stewart, is the one in need.”

“I think you should do this,” Everly says.

“Absolutely not.”

“Is it dangerous?” This she asks of the stranger.

“Potentially, but honestly, all they want is money. You would facilitate that, and bring the duchess to the location specified in the document.”

“And that’s all?”

He nods. “Your family is welcome to stay at Mr. Romanov’s London townhome while you are…busy. In any case, you have six hours to get back to me. My information is also in the document.” He tips his hat to Everly. “Madam.”

The bell rings once more as he leaves.

“She’s right, you know.” Ben appears, holding Nicky in his arms.

“I’ll go with her and little man. Watch over them while you do your thing.”

“My thing?”

Everly turns her hand into a mock gun. “You know. Pew. Pew.” Slightly affronted, I begin to defend my guns and the sounds they make. “No.”

“Yes.” She marches to me. “I went into this relationship knowing what you used to do. I never wanted you to stop, if that’s what you had to do—I only wanted you to be honest with me and say what you were doing.”

“Roman Smith,” Ben says. “Shopkeeper by day, retrieval expert by night. I quite like the sound of that.”

“Well, then by all means, I must go. What with a proper job title and all that.” I roll my eyes at him. “I cannot, in good conscience—” Everly places a finger on my lips. “Do you want to save the girl or not?”

I pull out my phone and call the number written on the front page of the book. A familiar voice answers on the first ring.

“Have you made a decision, then?” he asks pleasantly.

“Tell Mr. Romanov I’d be delighted to help.” I hang up. It feels as though everyone’s eyes are on me. “What?” Anticipation runs through me, twining with excitement. “I figured it would be nice to be the hero for once.”

My wife lets out a little sigh. “Roman, you have always been the hero of our story.”

Order the next book in The Target Series – HARD TARGET Releases February 16, 2016 Meet Roman Smith: Shopkeeper by Day. Assassin by Night.

The undercover Russian contract killer has never turned down an assignment that rids the world of scum… until his latest job targets an innocent man. Refusing is not an option because of Everly Andrews, the sexy southern belle who saved him from dying.

Completely unaware of his double life, she’s been marked as next on the kill list should he fail. Only what the Bratva doesn’t know— there’s nothing Roman won’t do to keep Everly safe.

The countdown has begun, and it won’t stop until his next target, or Everly, is terminated. Can he protect his lover until he eliminates the threat to her life, or will she be another casualty of a family grab for power in the Bratva?

About the Author Marquita Valentine is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance, new adult, and romantic suspense.

Since first taking the plunge in July of 2012 to self-publish, Marquita has appeared on the Top 100 Bestselling Ebooks Lists on iBooks, Amazon Kindle, and Barnes&Noble. She’s been called “one of the best new voices in romance” (Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews) and her books have been accused of being “a sexy, fun, and slightly addicting contemporary read” (The Book Queen).

When she’s not writing sexy heroes who adore their sassy heroines, she enjoys shopping, reading, and spending time with her family and friends. Married to her high school sweetheart, Marquita lives in a seriously small town in the south with her husband, two kids, and a dog. www.marquitavalentine.com Facebook Twitter If you enjoyed reading Prime Target, I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book, too.

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