18. Luna
Two days pass. Nik attends meetings with Luka, and our interactions are far and few between. The time to explore the grounds and read my latest book is welcome. And, fortunately, the stress of determining how I fit into Nik’s life back at the warehouse is put on temporary hold.
Today I tried to call my sister, but it went to voicemail. She promptly texted a photo of her out with several friends, drinks raised in cheers. Shortly after that, my mother texted me, asking if Nik and I could meet one night for dinner next week. I wrote back saying I’d ask him about it. Which I won’t. He isn’t going to want to go to dinner with my parents; he can barely have dinner with me.
A knock on my bedroom door causes the book I’m holding to slip through my fingers and onto my face, and the bite of it stings my nose. I bolt upright in the bed. “Come in.”
Nik walks in. Basketball shorts hang low on his thick frame, and a gray t-shirt hugs his biceps.
I clear my throat. “Hey, everything okay?”
He smirks, casually leaning against the door frame. Crossing his ankles, he peers around my room. “Yeah. I’m going to work out, but I have the rest of the day off. Figured you might want to go to Moscow and play tourist.”
I slam my book shut. “Really?” My voice cracks, coming out in a high-pitched octave I never use, and he chuckles.
“Yeah, Moonbeam. I’ll be ready in about an hour. Let’s meet downstairs.” He pushes off the frame and pulls my door shut. Rolling over onto my back, I stare at the ceiling. Excitement rushes through my body at the prospect of a change of scenery. But more than that, the idea of spending the day with Nik—that sends something else zinging through me.
I’m almost salivating as I step onto the cobblestones in the Red Square, doing my best to take it all in. I’m itching to get closer to the buildings. It’s probably plain as day I haven’t traveled much.
I focus on weaving through everyone to get the best view. The colorful onion domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I gasp and turn toward the Kremlin, its walls towering over the square. Nik laughs at my side.
“I didn’t know an Italian could get so excited about Russian architecture.”
I grimace, even though I’m sure he meant it in jest. “I didn’t get to travel much.”
“I’m enjoying watching you, Luna.”
My heart gallops at his words.
“It’s fun to see it through someone else’s eyes. Most of the people I come here with have seen it a million times.”
I bite back a bitter smile. I’m pathetic. To think he actually meant something by those words. We aren’t sharing anything special.
And why would we be? A flurry of thoughts rattle inside my mind, like marbles in a jar, but only one stands out. I stare down at my shoes, shuffling my feet back and forth. I’m tired of this—always feeling like I’m not enough.
I shove my hands into my coat pockets and lift my face to the gray sky. Fast-moving clouds roll by, and a drop of rain falls onto my cheek. I sigh, inhaling a deep breath of the earthy aroma that always washes in before a rainstorm.
Another drop hits my nose, and Nik tugs on my elbow. I glance up at him. His hand lingers as he turns to look at me, a raindrop splashing his forehead and trickling down the side of his face. His brows knit together as he continues to watch me—like I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out.
“We need to go,” he says finally.
Taking my hand, he pulls us through the other tourists. The sky darkens further, blocking out the last few rays of sunshine. A chill races along the back of my neck as the winds pick up speed. The sporadic pitter-patter of raindrops on nearby cars picks up frequency, until the sound transforms into a steady rhythmic downpour.
I shriek through a few small puddles as Nik continues to pull me through the streets back to the car. When it comes into view, we both dart to our respective sides and sling ourselves in.
A rich laugh fills the vehicle as Nik throws his head back. It’s infectious, and I smile at his free-spirited howl. He shakes his head, flinging dewy drops in every direction.
“Hey,” I yelp, holding up two hands to block his antics.
He stops, and reaches for his keys. “Now that was a first. Can’t say I’ve been caught in the rain here before.”
He smirks, and I swallow, unease once again eating at me. Either he’s being genuine, or he saw my less than positive reaction back at Red Square.
I drag a hand through my hair, shaking the rain out as I comb. Figuring we’d be on the road already, I look at Nik. He raps his fingers against his knee energetically, as if the spontaneity of getting caught in the rain made him … happy.
“What do you think about grabbing some food on the way back?” He reaches over, fingers pausing before threading through my hair. He tucks a stray piece behind my ear. My mouth falls open. Does he even realize what he just did? “There are a few places I bet you’d like. We can make Luka jealous and get some pelmeni.”
I smile. I have no idea what that is.
But right now, in this precise moment, it could be anything and I’d want to get it with Nik.
The car rumbles to a start and he shifts into drive.
Twenty minutes into our trip back, Nik is acting strange. His concentration keeps slipping from the road, to the rearview mirror, then back to the road again. He switches to the right lane, then swerves back to the left, letting his next glance in the rearview mirror linger. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, body tense and alert.
I squint into the side-view mirror, the glass speckled with water droplets. A black SUV, similar to the one we’re riding in, is right on our bumper. Nik steps on the gas, and the car speeds up.
“We’ve got a tail.”
“A tail?”
“The Bratva has many enemies. Splinter groups that come sniffing around. One of them must’ve gotten word we’re here—someone probably tipped them off after we landed.” Nik’s words are clipped short, his movements sharp. Worlds different from his casual, charming personality.
“Dial Luka. Put him on speaker.” Nik tosses his phone in my lap. I fumble with it, trying to type in the password he spits at me.
“Nikolai.” Luka’s voice booms. I hold the phone up and glance behind us to see the black vehicle revving up to our bumper. Nik swerves over to the middle lane.
“Boss. Bogey behind us. Seems to be the only one. Permission to take it out before heading back?” Nik hits the gas a little harder, cutting off another car as he takes a ramp to exit the highway.
“Still behind,” I say, trying to keep Nik’s focus on the road in front of us.
“Luna?” Luka says, and sighs. “Fine, Nik, go ahead. Stay safe, brother.” The phone clicks off and I toss it onto the center console.
A sudden hit to the bumper jolts me forward. Nik curses and speeds past another car, this time on a two-lane road. Nausea rolls through me as his driving becomes jerky and bumpy, but I whip my head around in time to see the SUV barrel into us once again.
Nik slams his palm on the wheel. “Come on, you assholes!”
An unanticipated right turn flings my body into his, and I struggle to right myself. A gunshot rings out, the bullet rattling around the trunk before finding its mark in the back seat.
“Get down, Luna.”
I duck as another shot takes out the side-view mirror closest to me. The glass shatters with a loud pop. Horns blare. My grip on the door tightens as my heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest. I glance at Nik, and his gaze is focused, determination etched into the lines of his forehead.
Three more gunshots strike the car, and Nik jerks the wheel to the left, taking a narrow cobblestone road past a row of townhouses. He hits a speed bump and the car lifts a fraction, enough to cause the pit in my stomach to rise into my throat. We land with a thud, bottoming out. Our tires squeal as he takes another sharp turn.
Traffic thins out as Nik leads the pursuing car away from more populated areas—the city giving way to the countryside. The SUV gains ground and nudges its nose into our rear, causing us to swerve with each hit.
“Hold on.”
Nik reaches into his coat pocket and takes out a gun. Panic explodes in my chest as he takes his hands off the wheel to cock it. We’re rammed again, and our car spins around with the momentum of the hit. I reach out in front of me to stabilize myself. Once we’ve come to a stop, Nik throws us in reverse and slams his foot on the gas.
We barrel backward down the road, the other SUV now in front of us, its bumper practically touching ours as it follows our retreat. Another shot misses us, and Nik rolls his window down.
My eyes widen, and on instinct, I grab for the back of his pants. “Nik! You?—”
He thrusts his upper body out the window and fires four shots of his own. Glass explodes, and our attacker’s windshield collapses inward. He fires two more shots, and I scream when a bullet lands between the eyes of the driver. Nik punches the brakes, whipping our car out of the way as the SUV careens off the road and veers toward a wooden farm fence.
With a deafening crash, the vehicle collides with one of the wooden posts, sending splinters flying into the air. I stare in shock at the now totaled car, its front end completely crumpled from the impact. Its horn blares, unrelenting.
I clench my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut as Nik revs the engine. Our tires squeal as he races out of the area, leaving the dead driver and the SUV behind.
After several turns, he slows to a stop and shifts to examine me.
“Tell me you’re okay.” His breathing is labored, knuckles white against the steering wheel. I let out my own deep breath, hands shaking as I rub my forehead. “Luna!” he barks.
“I’m fine, sorry. I’m okay.” He scans my body. I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to reach out to him. “Are—are you okay?”
“Da.” He snags his phone and types out a quick message before throwing the car back into gear. “We’re going home.”
The ride back is silent. Between our sprint through the rain and the nerves racking my body from nearly getting run off the road, I’m exhausted. It’s almost unfair how composed Nik is. Did what happened even bother him?
I’m not naive. I’ve been in this world all my life. Even while sequestered away, the murmured plans, the death count for the week—I overheard it all through the walls of our home. Still, nothing really prepares you for getting shot at during a high-speed car chase.
Back at the estate, security meets us at the car to debrief with Nik. I hang back, not wanting to interfere, but also, not wanting to leave Nik.
I’m amazed by him—his ability to handle a situation like that and think through the chaos. Wet clothes cling to his body, and his hair is tousled in all the wrong directions, but he’s steady and solid.
Security listens intently to his orders to find and process the car and then learn what they can from any bullets found. He does a double take when he sees me standing at the entrance to the house and he cuts off his conversation to stride toward me. His hulking form sways with confidence and surety. What would it be like to have that?
“You should go in and get warmed up.”
“I was waiting for you. I didn’t want to just leave.”
Nik towers above me, his eyes widening a fraction at my words.
I step back creating distance to hopefully slow my thrashing heart. Both his hands come up to grip my shoulders, and he turns me around, guiding me from behind toward the front doors. We stumble into the foyer, and Nik’s warm hands drop immediately. I glance behind me to see him clenching his jaw. He’s gone stiff, rod straight, and I shift my gaze toward where he’s looking. There’s an older version of Nik standing at the end of the hallway to our right.
The man’s eyes are trained on us. He lifts his chin. “Nikolai.”
Nik grimaces. “Father.”