Rough Exile

Chapter Thirteen

Thethreeofus got into the elevator, and as soon as the doors closed, Ilya scooped me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry for walking so quickly. I had to make it look like we were leaving because I was angry with you. I shouldn’t have agreed to that.”

“Okay.”

Bron grumbled.

“What?” Ilya demanded.

“She’s not some delicate little flower. She’s a tough girl.”

“Shut up, Bron.”

The elevator went deathly silent and stayed that way. The ding when we got to the bottom floor felt excessive.

Rather than put me down, Ilya strode through the foyer and out the sliding door. Bron kept up but stayed a pace behind.

The wind had picked up, and I huddled against Ilya for warmth. Several blocks from the party, Ilya cut through a park.

“Are we going to walk all the way back to the hotel?” Bron demanded, still sounding pissed off.

“We walk everywhere at home. Why is walking a big deal?”

“There are cars here.”

“There are cars here. People dress nicely here. Men share women here,” Ilya said in a falsetto, as though that was what Bron sounded like, when both had voices low enough to make the floor shake at home.

Ilya whipped around so suddenly my stomach lurched.

They glared at each other over my head.

“You’re turning into a mouthy little shit,” Bron said between clenched teeth.

“Then I should fit right in when we go visit my family.”

Bron’s face was a mask. “I won’t tolerate disrespect.”

“When we’re not at home, you’re my bodyguard, Bron. I’m not your bitch.”

“No matter where we are, you’re still my bitch. You know it in the pit of your stomach. Act like a big man out here in the world, sure, but if you disrespect me when I can’t do anything about it, be sure that we’ll discuss it later.”

“I’m not a boy for you to raise anymore.”

“You stick your dick in one woman and suddenly you think correcting your behavior isn’t my business? That’s one magic pussy you think she’s got there.” Bron shoved him, and Ilya staggered back.

He set me down, absently handing me the end of the leash.

“You’ve gotten things all twisted. It was never supposed to be like this between us.”

Bron raised his fists in the universal gesture of I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass. Rather than trying to talk him out of it, Ilya gave him an aggressive chin jerk. I’d seen them sparring a lot, but this didn’t seem like a game.

“If you two are going to pound the crap out of each other, I’m going back to the hotel,” I declared loudly, hoping to derail them.

Bron took a swing, and I turned my back and strode away the best I could in impractical heels. There was no way I was standing around to watch this nonsense. It was stupid enough when men fought each other when they were young and drunk, but they were hovering around thirty, and neither of them had drank enough tonight to be this stupid.

I headed in what I hoped was the right direction, wishing I had money for a taxi. Realizing I was holding my leash, I dropped it down the front of my dress to dangle down my body. Lord knew I didn’t have any pockets in this dress.

The sounds of their scuffle got more distant, then got entirely carried away on the wind.

Was I headed in the right direction? I’d been walking for a few minutes, and the buildings I could see in the distance looked unfamiliar. Had I gotten turned around in the trees?

I bit the inside of my cheek and stopped, turning in a full circle. There was nothing to see except the shadows of trees and dark rolling lawns, along with a web of pale, meandering pathways. There were benches and flowerbeds, but even if there’d been signage I couldn’t have read it in the dark…or in Russian.

As much as I didn’t want to watch them fight, being this far away from them was seeming incredibly stupid now that the buzzing in my head had quieted and I’d calmed down a bit.

Which way had I come from? Why were there so many paths in this park?

A figure moved toward me.

Ilya?

The man came closer. Not Ilya. It was a stranger. His trajectory was far too certain to make me comfortable, so I walked away, headed into a treed area. If he was trying to get from A to B, he wouldn’t follow me down the dimly lit path.

He said something in Russian. It was hard to tell if it was friendly.

Fear trickled through my veins, and I walked faster. The scuff of the steps behind me increased speed to match me.

Fucking hell.

Quickly, I stepped out of my shoes and picked them up, then left the path, heading into the trees and underbrush. My heart tripped along, mirroring my clumsy steps.

Get it together, Lilah. You’ve played this game so many times. You know how to hide.

But did I remember how to hide? I’d tried doing what Lane did on my first tour on the Island, but I’d quickly learned I wasn’t great at it. The suspense killed me. It had been easier to get the bad parts over with.

This situation was different. This man might not only assault me—he might traffic me. He might kill me.