“You can tell me anything,” he assures me.
I know this. I have absolute trust in him that I can do exactly that. Even if what I tell him isn’t exactly reciprocated, I trust him enough to know he’ll get there. I just know it.
“I love you.” The words are simple, yet the surety in my voice reverberates between us. “I’ve never said those words to anyone but my mom and son, but I’m giving them to you to do with what you want. Just know they’re not given lightly.”
I don’t even hold my breath, waiting for his reaction. Whatever it may be, I know I’ll be a winner regardless. Griff’s eyes lighten, the green going pale but not in a cold way. Instead, his expression warms and goes soft with pleasure.
He opens his mouth, and I know I’m going to get everything I had hoped for in return.
Except a monstrous sound erupts from behind us—an explosion, I think. The van rocks so hard my laptop slides off my lap. Griff’s arms go up as he throws himself toward me, and I get a brief, almost slow-motion glimpse of smoke and debris flying past his driver’s side window.
His arms come around my shoulders, and he protectively pushes my head down toward the center console.
“What in the fuck?” he growls as he holds me there for several seconds. Then I feel his body go taut, and he rears backward. I open my eyes, seeing him twist toward the driver’s window. People are running north up the street, screaming.
Griff sticks his head slightly out the window, looking left toward the café, and my stomach pitches when he snarls, “Goddamn it, motherfucker.”
I shift in my seat, peering back through the van to the tinted windows in the double rear doors. The cafe where Ken was sitting is on fire, and there’s a large, blackened hole in the sidewalk right in front of it. The glass where he would have been sitting is in shards on the ground, and injured people stagger out the door.
“Was… was… that a bomb?” I ask.
He doesn’t respond, merely pulling his head back in the window and putting his hand on the key to crank the engine as his eyes come to mine. “We’ve got to go. It’s Boga—”
When his words fall flat is when I feel the barrel of a gun press against the back of my head through the open passenger window. Griff’s eyes flare for a moment before his jaw locks so hard I’m afraid his teeth might crack.
I freeze in place as I hear the door unlatch, knowing whoever is on the other side of that gun is opening the van. My heart is pounding so hard I’m afraid it might explode from my chest, and I’m immediately covered in a cold sweat. Without a doubt, it’s the worst fear I’ve ever experienced in my life as I realize how fragile my mortality is. All I can think about is never seeing Aaron again.
“Move over,” a man says in a thick, Russian accent.
“Do as he says,” Griff says quickly but with a level of calm in his voice that amazes me.
And strangely, it slightly soothes my fear because I know Griff is smart, capable, and will protect me better than anyone else could.
“Slowly,” the Russian adds.
I slide toward the center, not yet even knowing exactly who is coming in the van behind me. All I can do is look to Griff for assurance, but his eyes are locked on the man who has a gun on me.
“You don’t have to do this, Karl,” Griff warns in a low voice.
Karl? He knows this guy, which means he’s Bogachev’s man.
It happens quickly. The Russian bands an arm around my waist and pulls me half onto his lap, the gun barrel now going to the corner of my jaw.
“Drive,” he orders Griff. “And do it fast or I’ll put a bullet in her brain.”
There’s no hesitation. Griff quickly cranks the van, shifts it into drive, and pulls away from the curb. With the explosion behind us, the traffic in front of us is clear up through the next intersection.
“Turn right,” the Russian man orders.
Griff complies, following another series of directions Karl gives with curt efficiency without ever once moving the gun from my jaw. We move several blocks away from the explosion, my stomach hurting over the people who may have been hurt or killed in that explosion.
A clear diversionary tactic that was used so we could be hijacked. And there’s no doubt who’s behind this.
The question is how exactly had he found out what was going on?
“Where are we going?” Griff asks the man holding the gun.
“Shut up and drive,” Karl barks in return.
Griff ignores him. “You don’t need to do this. I can help you out of this situation. I can guarantee you immunity if you—”