Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
No one is aware of his visit.
He is a ghost.
My throat sounds scratchy when I ask, “How? I saw you get shot.” When I shake my head, hating its reminder that I didn’t witness Alek’s punishment, tears topple down my cheeks. “Ghost… did… he… um…”
I can’t say the words.
Even more so when I see the remorse in Alek’s eyes.
As he licks his lips, he locks his eyes with the tray of untouched food on my dinette table before flipping our conversation on its head. “Why aren’t you eating, Kate?”
Although confused by the changeup, I mutter, “They’ve been drugging my food.” It is the response that won’t add bruises to his face. Alek is as protective as Ghost was. He proved that during our time in Russia. His responses weren’t as violent as Ghost’s, but he certainly portrayed that he wouldn’t take shit from anyone.
“And? They’ve been doing that from day one.” He laughs at my peeved expression. “Ghost wanted to lay with you every night like he did in the ship, but he couldn’t let you know that.”
“Why?” For such a simple word, it is extremely hard to articulate. I can barely breathe through the knowledge that Ghost was more attached than perceived. I was beginning to wonder if my feelings were one-sided.
“Because it would have placed the target on his back even sooner.”
His reply reminds me that I’m not the only one who has shed tears for Ghost. “Lera. She’s here—”
“I know,” he interrupts. While dragging a hand over his clipped beard, he curses, then mutters, “Sofia is…” He curses again before working out his reply through a tight jaw. “Still a work in progress.” His brows pull together above his mannish but perfect-sized nose for his face. “That’s why it’s taking so long to get you out. We have no fucking clue who our enemies are.”
“We?”
The word has barely left my mouth when my bedroom door shoots open.
Grayson enters my room, his gun at the ready.
“What the…” Alek stands to his full height, which is almost a head taller than Grayson. “Who the fuck are you?”
I dart between Alek and Grayson before either of them can react to the violence teeming in the room, my arms outstretched. “Alek this is G… aah… Aaren. He’s been helping me.”
“Helping you?” Alek rubs his hands together in a non-threatening manner, but the wish to kill still blazes in his eyes. “Right. Now it all makes sense.” He sits on the end of my bed, then balances his elbows on his knees. His reach is so long, he can pluck a breadstick out of the basket I refuse to touch without needing to stretch. “You’re the douchebag making Kirill manic.” After ripping off a chunk of bread and chewing it, he says, “I don’t know if it is this shit you’ve got going on.” He swivels his hand around Grayson’s face before dragging it down his body. His highlight of Grayson’s form alerts me to the fact that he is a lot more handsome than I realized. I wasn’t looking at him as any more than a friend, so I didn’t take in his untouched skin, platinum blond locks, and well-structured jaw. I just saw a man who appeared as desperate as me to get out from beneath Kirill’s nose. “Or that.” Alek locks his eyes with Grayson’s weapon. “That isn’t genuine.”
“This is a Makarov, the most widely distributed pistol in Russia.”
“And neither the fuck is that.” Alek wiggles his finger in his ear like Grayson’s horrid Russian accent caused him pain before he yanks a gun out of the back of his jeans. “This is the most widely distributed pistol in Russia.” His I’s sound like double E’s. “It doesn’t have a trademark or brand. It was also banned from sale four years ago.” His narrowed gaze is deadly. “So they won’t find any serial numbers, manufacturer details, or any of that other fucking shit the Bureau will wade through when they dig my bullet out of your head.” Grayson doesn’t cower at his threat. His stance strengthens. “They’ll have nothing but the knowledge you were taken down by a true Russian gangster not the fake-ass motherfucker you are.”
Alek stands again before tugging me behind him. “So you’ve got two options. You listen to that voice in your ear telling you to stand down, or I’ll take you down.”
“I don’t know what the fuck your—”
I squeal when Alek fires. He doesn’t hit Grayson, but his shot is so close, it whips out the lock curled around his ear, and if he has an earpiece in place, as Alek suspects, the person’s ear on the other end will be ringing as loud as Grayson’s. “Did I sound like I was negotiating?”
“Fuckin—” Grayson doesn’t finish his sentence, angles his head, and grumbles out, “I fucking heard you,” then drifts his sorrowful eyes to me. “I will get you out. I swear to God, I will.”