Guilt I had no desire to be feeling started creeping in, and I slammed into a broken-down gas station that looked like it had been deserted for twenty years. Still, the sounds of her terrified shrieks reverberated all the way down the street as I jumped out of the car. None of this was in the plan, and if some well-meaning passerby decided to do their civic duty and report screams coming from the trunk of a car, that might end up wasting a lot of my time.
So far, I was invisible in this city, and that’s how I wanted to keep it. There was no need to announce there was a new Fokin on the scene, especially one the Yakuza had been trying their hardest to kill. It would be easier to keep searching for Grigor if I didn’t end up on yet another hit list.
I popped the trunk, and she recoiled from me, blinking in the sudden onslaught of daylight, then screaming even louder. With a muttered curse, I realized I still had the mask on, too preoccupied with getting as far from Riku’s headquarters as possible to bother taking it off.
“Stop,” I said, angrily whipping it off. At the same time wondering if I had any spare duct tape in the backseat. “It’s me, Kon. You’re safe, Tati.”
No need for duct tape. She was stunned into silence at the sight of me. A few buttons had come undone on her tight, shiny top, and I scowled at the sight of her cleavage before beingdistracted by her ragged gasp for breath. A dozen emotions flew across her pretty, tearstained face at once.
There was that pesky stab of guilt again, which I shoved down as I reached into the trunk to haul her out.
“You get one chance to be good,” I said, placing her in the backseat and closing the door.
By the look on her face, I fully expected her to shut down and stay quiet, but to my shock, she actually flung herself across the seat, hurled open the opposite door, and took off running in her bare feet. It had to be my state of near exhaustion, because I only stood there, enjoying the view for a second. I had never paid much attention to little Tatiana Kanatova over the years, and somewhere along the line, she had grown up. And very nicely.
“Hell,” I muttered, taking off after her before she could head onto a more populated street.
It only took me a few seconds to catch up to her, not used to running over jagged, cracked asphalt with no shoes on, the threat of broken glass and needles all around. I scooped her up into my arms and made sure there was no broken skin on the soles of her feet.
“You just wasted your chance,” I told her, putting her back in the car and reaching under the front seat for the usual emergency kit most members of the Bratva traveled with.
She balked at the zip ties, finally finding her voice. “Don’t you dare.” Immediately seeing my response to that order, she changed her tune. “Please, Kon, I’ll be good.”
Something buried deep down made me want to believe her and capitulate, but my good sense finally woke up for the first time since I laid eyes on her.
Do not trust her. Do not pity her. Absolutely do not get distracted by those big blue eyes.
A little too late for the last one. Still, I gave her a fierce look and tightened the zip ties around her wrists. She tried to sputter something else, but I slapped a nice long strip of tape over her mouth before she could get it out.
Her eyes shot such daggers of pure rage I should have dropped dead. I placed a hand over my heart to make sure it was still beating. This one had some fire in her, after all. But what the hell was she doing in Riku’s territory?
In Fokin territory.
“What?” I asked sarcastically, leaning back to peruse my unexpected captive. “Did I ruin your plans? Or maybe your father’s plans?”
Her pretty, Caribbean sea eyes went the color of the kind of storms that make seasoned sailors begin to pray for mercy. To my complete and utter shock, she heaved herself forward and headbutted me. Holy crap, that was the second time she caught me completely off guard. While the thump hurt like hell, my head was a lot harder than hers. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped onto the seat, out cold.
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
This wasn’t what I came to LA for. This wasn’t what I needed. I should have dumped her behind the gas station.
Instead, I got in the car and drove toward my apartment, the one place my little problem would be safe.
Chapter 4 - Tatiana
Ouch. I opened my eyes to the pain of a splitting headache, the low hum of the motor filling my left ear. I had rolled off the backseat and onto the floorboards, my bound wrists bent uncomfortably underneath me.
Something loud floated back to me, sounding like concern for my well-being, but that couldn’t be right, and I ignored it, trying to shake the fog of pain that radiated from my forehead into my brain.
For a split second, I wondered, maybe a little hopefully, that this was just another nightmare, but no. I was really tied up in the backseat of a car. A slight upgrade from being in the trunk, but the duct tape over my mouth was a little much. It was difficult to breathe, especially since I was on the verge of panicking.
What the hell was going on? Had Konstantin Fokin actually snatched me off the street? Twisting around, I saw the back of his head, his wavy, dark blond hair a little longer than the last time I had seen him. He barely glanced at me that time, probably a year or so ago, and I had scampered to stay out of the way of whatever important thing he had to tell Papa.
Papa.
What would he have thought of my valiant effort to run away? Would he have been as proud as I was at my uncharacteristic bravery? Closing my eyes, I relived those glorious seconds when my bare feet pounded on the rocky pavement, my vision tunneling with an overload of adrenaline, but still leaning forward and running like my life was the prize.
Fat lot of good it did me when Kon was bigger and stronger and faster, and had more experience in this kind ofthing than I did. Why the hell did he grab me, and more importantly, why was he at Riku’s building in the first place?