“I understand.” I bow my head. “Either way, I’m cutting bait.”
“Is she all right?” Ravil asks, somehow seeing into my heart with that laser gaze of his.
I frown. “No. I don’t think so. But she’s safe now. From me and those mudaks on the ship.”
“She was always safe from you,” Ravil points out.
I think of her bruised wrists from the zip ties. About putting her in the shipping crate. The near-rape I exposed her to on the ship. “No, she wasn’t. But she is now.” The best thing I can do for Kat now is to walk away.
As a good citizen, I will let the authorities know what I know about Poval. But that’s the worst I’ll do.
Anything more would be detrimental to my–no, not my. She doesn’t belong to me. I have no claim on her whatsoever. Anything more would be detrimental to Kat.
“How is Nadia? Has anyone seen her?”
“Of course, we’ve seen her,” Ravil says, pinning me with a hard look. “You think we wouldn’t look out for her while you’re away?”
I shake my head. “Nyet. No. Of course not. I didn’t mean it that way. And I’m sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t want to drag your cell–our cell–into my mess.”
“Your mess is our mess. We’re brothers, Adrian,” Maxim says.
“You cannot keep your mess from affecting us, which is why I don’t appreciate you keeping me in the dark.” Ravil’s rebuke is mild, but my respect for him makes it hit me square in the chest.
I place my fist over my heart. “Forgive me.”
After a pause, Maxim says, “Nadia seems to be doing fine. She came out with us to Rue’s Lounge Thursday night. She might have a thing for Story’s brother, Flynn.”
I grind my teeth. I know it's true. I've seen the way she looks at him. And it's a big fucking problem as far as I'm concerned. That kid is a player, and Nadia's heart is already so fragile. There's no way I'm letting him anywhere near her.
“It’s late here,” Ravil says. “We’ll be in touch. Answer your phone if I call, or I will superglue it to your ear when you return.”
“I will–I’m sorry.”
I end the call and send Dima the log book information then send a message to Kat’s father.
Funds received. Kateryna unharmed. Pick up in Antwerp 10 pm CET tonight. Come in person, or you won’t see her again. Text when you arrive.
Exhaustion rolls over me, but I push through, going down to the hotel gift shop I’d seen to buy Kat a shirt, sweater and a pair of leather boots. They didn’t sell panties, but I bought her some fancy lotion, soap, shampoo and conditioner.
Then I return to the room and lie down beside her, curling my arm around her waist and pulling her against me. “Shh,” I murmur against her nape when she startles. “Everything’s all right, malyshka.”
“Mmm. Adrian,” she mumbles in her sleep like I’m a comfort to her, and my heart squeezes so hard I lose my breath.
Leaving her is going to fucking kill me.
12
Kat
I wake at two in the afternoon. I would’ve woken sooner–but every time I stirred, the comfort of Adrian’s heavy arm draped around my side made me fall straight back to sleep.
God, I’ve never actually slept with a guy before him.
I’ve had sex–lots of it–from the moment I landed in England but never sleepovers. I couldn’t while I was in the dormitory at school, and I’ve only had hookups since I’ve been living alone. No boyfriends. No one familiar in my bed, holding me like we belong together.
I find it delicious. I even liked it on the ship when we were sardined together on one tiny cot. I climb out of bed and pad into the bathroom. Adrian trails me—apparently, I'm still his prisoner. Either that, or he's decided there's nothing to hide between us anymore.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, leaning his shoulder in the doorway. “You must be famished.”
I love this guy. I really do. I love the way he takes care of me. The way he thinks about my needs.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I'm totally starving.”
“I'll order room service. What sounds good?”
“A sandwich,” I say. “And tea. I haven't had tea in days.”
“I'll get you tea,” he promises and backs away.
As soon as he’s gone, I miss his presence. We've been in close quarters since Wednesday night. I'm beginning to feel like I can't breathe if he's not beside me. I use the toilet, brush my teeth and then climb in the shower. In it, I find all the things I could ask for. A fresh razor, big full bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a nice facial cleanser. Not the small hotel-size kind. No, Adrian had to have bought these.
I smile and shout, “Thank you for the conditioner!”
I hear the rumbles of Adrian's deep voice, but he's not talking to me. He must be on the phone to room service.