Chapter 2 – Markos
Andrej collapsed, crumpling to a heap on the ground. I would have picked the delivery man up and thrown him farther, but that would have created distance between me and the girl. So I continued to stand over her as I sent a warning look to the second man racing forward. He slowed.
“Just as promised!” that one called out. His accent was thick, but he had the good sense to stay away. “We did it, sir!”
Did it? They called this completing their assignment? My fist tightened at my side, fingers itching to reach for my weapon. This was what came of hiring outside help for a job.
“Ack, rotten luck, your bride’s face is a mess,” my cousin muttered.
I crouched before Danica. She lifted her head. Despite the streaked makeup and battered skin, she was beautiful. I stared at her, momentarily captured by some subliminal pull of her dark brown gaze.
But then reason caught up to me.
This wasn’t Danica.
Those thick, black lashes blinked slowly. With a little shake, the woman tried again to focus on me. Her eyes were brown, not blue. That was the first clue. As I tried to wrap my head around what a major fuck up this situation was, I could only stare into that hot, fierce gaze.
Whoever she was, she was still fighting.
Until nature won the battle, and she sagged to the ground. Those brown eyes rolled into the back of her head. She lost consciousness.
I didn’t have to think, I simply acted. My hand shot to my waistband, fingers eagerly gripping the metal. A split second to aim, and then two shots rang out.
“Theos! What the hell, man?” Iosif groaned.
My cousin should be used to my unpredictability by now. We’d only spent the last two and a half decades together, and the only constant was change. A couple yards away the Slavic mercenaries howled, rolling about the ground. I would deal with their mess in a minute.
I rested my pistol on my knee, glancing down at the unconscious woman.
Fuck! She was small, maybe five feet at the most. There wasn’t much muscle on her lithe frame, and the curves were slight.
Her body would blow away in the first strong rush of wind.
The delicate build sent a rush of protectiveness through me.
And those marks...angry and swollen. One bled. A bead of crimson trickled across her olive skin.
The sight brought out the killing instinct. Rage blasted from deep within my chest.
Brushing the dark hair off her face, I clenched my jaw tight. Fuck, but she was gorgeous. Even fueled by fear, running for her life, and tragically bruised, she hadn’t been broken.
The last thing I saw before she fainted was the fire in her eyes. It was nothing short of mesmerizing.
I pushed to my feet. The pistol tapped rhythmically against my thigh as I crossed to the mercenaries. “Which one of you touched her?”
Strings of English and their native tongue spewed in a garbled mix.
“No, you’ve got it all wrong.” I stood over their prostrate forms. “You didn’t have to rough her up. You were hired for a simple snatch and grab.”
“They’re saying she fought back,” Iosif mused.
“That doesn’t matter.” I rubbed my chin with the back of my hand. “When I hired them to do a collection and transportation job, I was assured the lady would arrive in good order. She did not.”
My finger squeezed around the trigger twice more. Now all four kneecaps were shattered beyond repair. There was no chance of these men escaping.
I nodded to Iosif. “Have a crew take them fishing.”
Iosif pulled out his phone, muttering about the mess.
A mess? Yes, it was. But it went far beyond shooting the delivery boys. There was always going to be hell to pay for this stunt. And now that it involved a stranger, the price would be doubled—if the others were merciful. Which they never were.
I sighed and holstered my weapon. The other leaders of our family might actually kill me this time.
But that was nothing new.
Although Iosif wasn’t supposed to be here, it turned out to be a blessing that he witnessed the scene firsthand. His testimony might just save me from the worst of the wrath.
As Iosif dealt with the soon-to-be-chum, I returned to the woman. The way she’d fought—theos! If she’d had any kind of physical advantage, she would have eviscerated those mercenaries. Stooping, I slowly lifted her into my arms. She was lighter than I imagined.
A fresh burst of rage bloomed in my chest. Dumping the mercenaries was too nice. No, the sharks needed to work for their supper tonight.
“Iosif! Use the nets,” I growled, adjusting my grip on the woman.
Thin steel, woven with openings, made creative nets that we drug over the water, where our catch could be picked apart by ravenous sharks as we looped around their hunting grounds, taunting the killers as we made them chase their dinner.
It was exactly what these men deserved for hurting an innocent.
The stranger stirred in my arms.
“Hush, it’s going to be alright,” I promised...because it was. I would survive whatever punishment my family doled out, and I would protect her from their ire. “What’s your name?”
The serpentine sounds strung together, but as I lowered my ear I could just make out the word.
Serena.
Not a Slavic name.
I began to walk. The half-mile stretch of road between the bait shop and our little village was lost on me. I could feel the soft rise and fall of her chest. Those long, slender fingers twitched until they settled on my chest with a feather-light touch. She sighed, nuzzling into me.
So focused on sorting through this new development, it wasn’t until a neighbor shouted that I realized the gravel road ended and I was back home.
“Po po! What did you do now?” Dorothea called out from over her garden fence.
“Bring your witchcraft kit and hurry,” I instructed the aged woman.
Huffing and muttering pleas to the saints, my aunt waddled into her house. What was I going to tell everyone? Not that anyone in the community knew my plans. Not even the priest knew that I was finally going to take a wife even though the wedding was set for Sunday afternoon.
That gave me five days to find the real Danica.
“What do I do with you in the meantime?” I murmured, pushing through the front door of my house.
The woman in my arms didn’t stir. I leaned down, trying to hear her breathing. It was there. Soft but there.
If I hadn’t seen her fight off the mercenary, who outweighed her in muscle mass, I wouldn’t have believed such a tiny thing could do it. The mercenaries underestimated her. I saw the marks she left on their bodies. The blood on their throats looked particularly uncomfortable.
Pushing into the door in the back hallway, I carried my precious load inside. It wasn’t until I was standing before the king-sized mattress that I realized where we were.
My room—I brought her to my room.
Rage and frustration must have thoroughly rewired my subconscious because I meant to take her into the smaller room across the hall. For that matter, if I’d been thinking at all, I should have brought her to Dorothea’s house. It was too late for that.
Serena would stay with me. She was my responsibility. My guest. Which meant she should be taken to the guest room.
I looked over my shoulder, through the open door.
No, that wasn’t right. There was no way I was taking her there—or anywhere else.
Acting on instinct, I laid her on the bed and stared at the scene.
It didn’t make sense. It was full of problems, but my gut told me it was just right. I brushed my hand gently over hers. She whispered a sigh and curled into the pillow. That small gesture was enough to banish any lingering doubt.
She would sleep here. In my bed.
I continued to hold her fingers, standing guard over her and content to stare. Like some fool Eros hit with his arrow.
“Markos! Where’d you go, lad?” my aunt hollered, bustling through the front door.
I remained quiet and let her find me. When she did, she huffed. “That’s uncanny. You’ve never had a woman to your place, let alone in your bed.”
I arched a brow. That showed how much she watched me.
“Theos,” she tutted, going to sit alongside the woman. “What happened to her?”
“Trouble with thugs along the way,” I said coolly. “Iosif is dealing with them.”
As Aunt Dorothea worked, I watched over my guest. This woman was going to be a problem, but the idea of her being in pain was something I couldn’t stand.
“Here, do something with this,” the old woman snapped.
I took the tubular gold purse that was barely larger than my hand. Opening it, I riffled through the contents. No phone, which made sense. The mercenaries probably dumped it. There were also no IDs or any money.
Frowning, I took my own phone out. Dorothea gave me the stink eye, and I retreated to the hall where I still could look into the room.
“Iosif,” I clipped into the device when the call went through. “Did they have her passport or driver’s license in the Suburban by any chance?”
My cousin hmphed. “Didn’t see anything.”
“Look again,” I ground out.
“Um, yeah, that’s not possible. We already torched it.”
Tightening my grip on the phone, I walked into the kitchen, out of earshot of the village gossip.
“Markos?” he cautioned, feeling the impending storm clouds with that sailor’s sixth sense. “What’s up?”
“They took the wrong girl,” I muttered.
“Atlas will kill you,” Iosif whistled.
Atlas would, without a doubt, but it was his brother who would play with me first. “Do me a favor and don’t call Zephyr.”
Iosif snorted. “Wasn’t planning on it. But he’s going to find out.”
“I’m going to see them now,” I said and hung up. Lifting my eyes to the three barred cross hanging above the kitchen door, I murmured a prayer. Divine intervention would be the only thing to save us in the next few hours.