6. Nadia
6
NADIA
I twisted and scooted along the wall, focused on getting away. Off to the side, I stayed out of the way from the two men fighting.
The tall man with the deep voice punched the Avilov thug who’d spotted me in the bar. He hadn’t only found me there. He’d chased me once tall, dark, and handsome acted like a wall I’d run into. And it couldn’t have looked good that another man was trying to capture me. According to that hulkish Avilov, I belonged with and would be on my way to his boss. I was supposed to be Lev’s bride.
Whoever the hell this other guy was, I didn’t know. And as I ran down the alley, leaving them fighting back there, I didn’t want to know.
One creep stalking after me to bring me to his boss was plenty. I didn’t have the mental energy to figure out who that other man was. Or why he wanted anything to do with me.
Or how he knew my name.
Like the Avilov, that man I’d run into wanted to take me away.
But where?
Why?
I winced as I came to the road. My feet hurt. Aching spirals of pain radiated up from my soles. I hadn’t anticipated needing to literally run from the bar when I put on these simple flats. Every breath I wheezed in and out felt like a searing slice with the stitch from running so hard and fast. Worse was the throbbing, pulsing agony in my upper back. When that guy shoved me aside, I slammed into a sharp edge of a brick that protruded too far out from the wall. Blood trickled from the cut I couldn’t see, but that was the least of my problems.
So long as I was conscious and able to run, I would.
I had to go. To leave. Not just to relocate from their fight in the alley. I needed to get the hell out of here. Away from London.
Nowhere seemed safe. “Home” in New Jersey hadn’t been a safe location for me since Lev Avilov showed up six years ago and tried to take me with him. Now, here, in my refuge in another country, I had been spotted.
Slowing to a walk so no one would be freaked out by my hurrying, I glanced again and again over my shoulder. Those men were far back there, too distracted in sharing hits to notice which way I’d gone. But the paranoia persisted. Fear seeped into my blood, and I doubted anything would convince me to loosen up or relax. Having an Avilov man chasing me down was bad, but that other newcomer added more suspense and confusion to the mix.
Who is he? What does he want? That was the story of my life, always having to consider what others—men—wanted from me. Dad expected me to pay for his debt. Lev expected me to be his bride. I was sick of it.
And in that sense, I didn’t want to care about what that other man wanted or who he was.
I licked my lips as I slowed more, giving myself time to really catch my breath. If my hair hung over my shoulders, it’d probably hide the bloody stain on the back of my shirt. With this many pedestrians walking around out here, I risked someone spotting me and calling for help.
Contacting law enforcement seemed like the wrong move. Mr. Avilov could probably track me faster if I were recorded as speaking with the police, and they couldn’t do a damn thing, anyway. What, the local officers here, having a chance to stand up to an international mobster like Mr. Avilov? Ha! They wouldn’t be able to protect me. No one could.
Except that man. Whoever he was, the man in the dark suit, the owner of that gravelly, deep voice, he’d secured me. At the sound of a gunshot, he hadn’t hesitated to put his body between me and the Avilov man. Not only that, but he’d also shoved me to the side to personally defend me from him.
I furrowed my brow, unsure how to comprehend the sequence of events that had just happened. All I knew, without a doubt, was that I could not linger.
No one could protect me. All I could try to do was run and hide—again.
The return trip to my apartment was a blur. Between looking over my shoulder constantly and hustling to the safety of my so-called home away from home, I didn’t pay attention to anything more than putting one foot in front of the other and getting there in one piece.
No one jumped out at me. I didn’t spot the two men again.
Passers-by glanced at me and frowned, and I realized I had to be wearing my emotions on my face again. Worry and panic fueled me, and I knew I was looking out at the world with a matching grimace that would incite any stranger to wonder what was wrong with me.
The second I reached my door, I rushed inside, slammed it shut, and locked it.
“What the hell?” Zoe asked, alarmed from her lazy slouch on the couch. She’d come home earlier, bored when I chatted with Professor Owens. It looked like she was reading some paperback about monster romance. Sitting up, her eyes wide open with alarm at my hasty arrival and loud shut of the door, she gawked at me.
“Is that blood ?”
Shit. I didn’t want to explain.
“No.” I exhaled a long breath, hating that I had to lie to her. I loathed what I had to ask her, too. Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I lightened my expression from one of fuck, fuck, fuck to a hopefully calmer frown. “Someone spilled something on me at the bar.”
She relaxed. Her shoulders slumped, buying my lie. “Oh. Okay. I mean, you rushed in here all frantic and all and?—”
“I need to borrow some money.” I swallowed hard, knowing I had no other choice. No other option. I couldn’t risk staying in London where Mr. Avilov’s lackey was. Nor that other stranger who’d both tried to capture me and protect me.
“What?” Her brows shot up high as she watched me enter the living room.
“I need to borrow money for a flight.” I licked my lips, desperate for her to help me.
“A flight ?” She huffed, incredulous.
I nodded. “Now.”
She gaped at me again. “ Now ?” she parroted. “You’ve got exams all week and the next.”
Shaking my head, I searched for words, for anything to give as a reason. “I know. But I need to get out of town. Right now.”
She stared at me, stunned. “Girl, what the hell is going on?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?” she challenged.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know. The less you know, the better.”
She stood, frowning at me. “That’s bullshit. Are you trying to gaslight me or something? What’s going on?”
“I can’t—won’t—tell you.” It didn’t matter to me which verb was applied. The same result would be waiting for her. She did not need to be aware of my problems.
“But you’ll ask me for money?” She crossed her arms. “To leave town in the middle of exams? You’ve always been a little aloof, but not like this.”
“Use the emergency card. The one your mom gave you.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “I’ll pay you back.”
She deepened the lines on her brow. “It’s not about the money as much as it is about what the hell is going on with you. Are you hurt? Is someone threatening you?”
Yeah, with a lifetime of marriage I don’t want. “No. Please, Zoe. Please .”
She stared at me, pensive and likely thinking it over. I prayed that she also recalled how I'd never, ever asked her for anything in the years we’d been roommates.
“Fine, but?—”
I rushed to her and hugged her, but as soon as her arms wrapped around me, I grew nervous that she’d feel the bloody spot. Just as quickly as I launched at her, I jerked back. “Thank you.”
“To where, though?” She still eyed me so suspiciously, willing to help but damned curious.
I hadn’t actually thought about it. All I wanted was a destination that would be far, far from Mr. Avilov’s notice. I’d need to use my passport, though, and I bet that was traceable for a criminal lord. There was no way around using my passport, but if I went somewhere obscure, somewhere I could get a ride and drive somewhere else… Maybe somewhere with lots of places to hide…
“Cozumel.” Mexico was big. It would look like I was jetting away to a vacation spot, somewhere touristy. And then I could drive away to wherever.
Once more, Zoe’s eyes practically bugged out. “Cozumel?”
I nodded. Now that I’d said it, it felt like a plan. If not a plan, another stepping stone of hiding from the future I didn’t want. “ Please ,” I begged with genuine desperation.
“Fine. Fine.” She shook her head, though, going to her laptop.
One day, I’d owe her a hell of an explanation, and I’d give it to her. But for now…
I didn’t linger and risk her asking any more questions. I cleaned up my cut the best I could in the bathroom. Seeing the long gash on my skin frightened me. It looked worse than it felt. The ache had faded. It wasn’t gone, but I’d gotten used to it. Survival numbed the senses. And that was what drove me—surviving on my terms.
After shoving some things in a bag, I hurried back out to Zoe. She sighed and handed me the credit card her mom had given her for emergencies. This was an emergency, a huge one.
“I emailed the flight info to you.” The frown on her face was both sad and mad, but she seemed resigned to linger in confusion about it all.
“Thank you.” I hugged her again. I wasn’t as worried that she’d feel the wet spot of the blood stain on my shirt, but I held my breath when she squeezed me tight. Fortunately, she didn’t feel the thick gauze and bandage I’d applied to the cut.
I left right away, not wanting to risk her asking more questions and having to think up what I could tell her. Sticking around was the opposite of what I needed right now.
My wait at the airport was surprisingly short, and it wasn’t until I was seated on the plane that I dared to draw in a breath of relief. For the first time since I laid eyes on the Avilov man, I let myself relax and just breathe. Several minutes passed and the sense of panic remained, but once the plan took off, I tried to think ahead, not dwell on the past.
Trying to be pragmatic and practical didn’t last long. Too many questions and worries filtered through my mind. I was too scattered with my thoughts. I was still coming down from the roller coaster ride of panic, that adrenaline rush that I crashed from now.
I’d gotten out of London. That was the first step. But how long would I actually be able to hide in Mexico? How long could I plan to stay in any one place, and with limited funds at that? I’d grabbed all my cash and my cards, but I had no means to obtain more. All my “income” was from my scholarship stipends.
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, I suffered another moment of reckoning.
I’ll never be able to escape the Avilovs. Lev, and his minions, would continue to come after me, and trying to plan on an entire lifetime of hiding didn’t seem like a life at all.
For as long as I remained a target, a person to hunt down, others would be impacted by association.
Zoe had been, using money to help me get away. I couldn’t dare to get close to anyone else, either.
And that man, the deep-voiced one who’d pushed me aside to safety…
I winced as I stared out the window, wondering how he’d fared. I hadn’t even gotten his name. My… savior? I didn’t know what to call him. How could he be my savior when he wanted to capture me? And why’d he know my name?
Rubbing my face, I gave in to the fatigue of trying to understand it all. I didn’t know who he was, and I doubted I’d see him ever again. I’d left him behind in London.
But with every mile that grew between us, I was surprised at the degree to which I cared.
Maybe he had ulterior motives, but at least he’d tried to keep me from getting in the Avilovs’ hold.
That has to count for something, right?