Page 51 of Captive

My God, the man didn’t seem to have any reaction at all. I backed away, completely confused as to why he’d acted as if he gave a damn the night before. Tears burned my eyes as I tried to keep them from falling. Weakness. They would show him how weak I was. I turned around, walking quickly toward the safety of the trees.

“Wait.”

The single word wasn’t his usual command. It was softer, kinder. As close to pleading as I’d likely hear from him. “What? If you want to make fun of me, then go right ahead. I do it to myself all the time. I know I seem helpless and pathetic to you, but I’m not.”

“I would never make fun of you. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. There is nothing fragile about you. Just sad. I trust very few people as well; however, I know of someone who will do me a favor. You won’t have to worry.”

“Does that mean I’ll never see you again?” His hesitation was my answer, but he confirmed it.

“Probably not, but I will send word when it’s safe to return to your life.”

“Where will you go?”

“Russia.”

Russia. My God. He was returning to his life. I shouldn’t be shocked. He’d mentioned in class that once indoctrinated in the Bratva, then it was impossible to leave.

Wonderful. I’d found a man I could care about and fate refused to allow us a chance. Well, that’s the way it was. A chance? I must be lost in some romance novel. This wasn’t fantasy and it certainly wasn’t a fairytale, no matter how electric our connections.

Stop behaving like a child.

I headed back to the cabin and this time he didn’t stop me. When I headed inside, I immediately walked to the front door, locking it. Then I backed into the room, holding my arms and taking a deep breath, blinking until the tears finally stopped forming.

Suck it up, girl.

The advice was good.

I took a few seconds, finally studying the room. There were some well-crafted old bookshelves, still holding several books. While there weren’t any photographs, the art on the walls was surprisingly beautiful, various landscapes reminding me of the area.

When he didn’t return after a few minutes, I moved into the kitchen. The bags I’d peered into were by the door, ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice.

Ignore them.

More good advice, but I wasn’t certain I was going to be able to follow it. I couldn’t imagine life on the run, although maybe that’s a little bit of what my world had been since leaving North Carolina. I should have fought back instead of running.

However, I was starving and by the looks of the kitchen, Nikolai hadn’t made anything to eat. I should just let him fend for himself, but that wasn’t what I wanted to do. Damn it, I neededcoffee, a purchase I didn’t remember we’d made. Maybe I’d get lucky and find some.

I kept myself busy for the next thirty minutes, using what cleaning supplies I’d found to make the kitchen more presentable. At least I’d found a coffeemaker and a jar full of coffee. After starting the pot, I retreated to the kitchen window, yanking the ugly drapes and searching the backyard.

He was nowhere in sight. I left them open, feeling more uneasy than before. It was obvious we weren’t going to have any additional conversations. Even though there was only powder creamer, the cup of steaming java was heavenly, the bitter taste reminding me of the diner’s coffee. A laugh bubbled to the surface. How many times had I complained about the taste? Now, what I wouldn’t give to have a cup, laughing about whatever customer I’d just had to endure.

Like the Russians.

My skin began to crawl as I thought about them. Had they anticipated finding Nikolai there or was it just coincidence? They’d definitely had an agenda in mind. I tried to remember what they’d said, not just the fear they’d left me with. The asshole seemed more specific than I’d originally thought. There was no doubt they were targeting Nikolai. I’d been such a fool.

“On budet vzyat,” I repeated.

“What. The. Hell?”

Hearing the anger in Nikolai’s voice, I jumped, almost spilling the coffee. I spun around, shocked at the expression on his face. He was furious, the veins on the side of his neck popping. When he stormed into the room, I immediately shifted against the counter, sloshing the coffee onto the floor.

“You will talk to me. There is no other choice. Now, who are you?”

“What are you talking about?” I managed, already shaking all over. Everything about his demeanor had changed, as if I was his enemy.

“I heard what you said. You were a plant. That’s how they’ve been able to find our location. You’re Russian. You’re working for the Bratva.”

Whoa. I was so floored I couldn’t speak. When he inched closer, his hands fisted, I threw out my arm. “No. Are you kidding me?”