A deep frown creases his face. “I’m here to use you. To hurt you, Kateryna.”
I fold my arms protectively over my chest and hunch my shoulders. “Yeah. I know. But I’m a masochist, so I kind of like it. It’s not a big deal.”
Adrian’s expression is nothing short of tortured. He stabs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I’m trying to make it a good hurt for you, Kat. But in the end…”
“In the end, someone has to die.”
“Not you,” he says quickly.
“I know.” My nose burns, and I rub it to push the tears away, looking out the porthole at the spray of grey-blue water outside.
“If I live, Kat,” Adrian begins.
I don’t want to look at him because it hurts too much, but I end up doing it anyway.
“I–”
“What?” I croak.
“I mean, you wouldn’t want or need this, but–”
“Just say it, Adrian.”
“I will take care of you.”
A strangled sound comes out of my throat, and I throw myself to the other side of the window seat, slamming my body into his. It’s not a hug or an embrace, but I fall into him in a fetal position, hunched on my side against his chest.
His strong arms band around me, and he draws in a shaky breath. I feel his lips on the top of my head.
“I don’t want you to,” I say in a watery voice. It’s both true and not true.
I’m actually horrified at how appealing his offer is to me. Do I really wish my father to be dead, so Adrian will have to take responsibility for me? Of course, he’s only offering it out of guilt and responsibility. He wants me to know I wouldn’t starve on the streets if he succeeds in his revenge.
He’s not saying he’ll marry me.
Be my sugar daddy.
Take me home. Well, maybe he would take me home. But I definitely should not be even remotely interested or excited by that prospect.
“Of course not,” he says gruffly against my hair. “But if you did…”
“You make a good bad guy.” I lift my wet face to peek at him and then tuck into his neck, where I kiss his skin. He smells of pine and leather. Strength and resolve. Kindness and courage.
“Maybe I’ll kill you,” I murmur against his skin, just because I think I should be fighting, and I know how absurd it is that I’m not.
He cradles the back of my head. I put my hair back in braids last night when it was wet, and he flicks one of the braids off my shoulder. “You probably will,” he murmurs back.
8
Adrian
“I’m ready to send the text,” I tell Dima. I had to call him while I had a cell signal.
Kat looks over at me from the window seat. I’m still in the bunkroom because I couldn’t bring myself to tie her up again to leave it. Besides, I don’t really have anything to hide from her now.
We’re on the ship–she can’t get off. She knows my plan.
“I was able to trace his last location. He was in Malta.”
“Malta,” I repeat, watching Kat’s face.
I can tell by the way she stiffens that it’s true.
Dima goes on, “I can’t get any of his banking cracked, but I do have hers wide open. You could have him transfer money into her account, and I can transfer immediately out of it. Also, I might be able to trace it back to his.”
“That works. You sure he can’t trace it?”
“I’m good at what I do, Adrian.”
“I know, I know.”
“Did you call Ravil?”
“No.”
“Are you planning on coming back, Adrian?” Dima asks quietly.
The wind goes out of me. I’m only about fifty percent sure I’ll make it home to Chicago. To Nadia. But I haven’t really felt the depth of what that means until this moment.
I scrub my hand across my jaw. “I want to,” I tell him. “But I know the risks.”
“Ravil and Maxim are expert strategists. Why wouldn’t you run your plans by them?”
“I don’t want to endanger the cell.”
Dima makes a frustrated sound in his throat. “And if I refuse to continue helping you because you haven’t made contact?”
“You know.”
“You’d just do it on your own.”
“Yes.”
“You’re a stubborn bastard.”
I say nothing.
“Nadia doesn’t need this, Adrian. She needs you here. If something happened to you, do you think she’d be able to go on?”
The familiar sensation of dread and rage grips my chest when I think of Nadia. Sometimes I’m not sure if she’ll ever lead a normal life again. “He did that to her,” I spit.
“Killing him won’t change it.”
My stomach roils, but I scoff. “Your woman has made you soft,” I say. Dima moved in with a beautiful young Russian girl from our building last fall.
Dima hangs up on me, which I deserve.
It doesn’t matter. He’s already given me everything I need. I know he will continue to help me, whether I obey orders to check in with our pakhan or not.