Chapter 11 - Diomid
“I’m really sorry about this,” I say as we step onto the plane and into the apartment-style area where Angelika sits on the same sofa she did on our flight to the island.
I hate the fact that we’re leaving. I would’ve stayed for a month if I could.
Longer. After spending this short amount of time with her, and never tiring of her company, I’m beginning to wonder about myself.
Should I be more careful of her? Am I playing with fire?
It doesn’t feel like fire; it feels good to be around her.
“It’s ok, I understand, you have an emergency. It’s not like it was in your control.”
She speaks politely, but with a slight coldness to her. She must be disappointed to leave Barbados. I understand. The last thing I want to do is go back home.
I’ve never enjoyed the island as much as I did with her by my side. It’s crazy how she brings out the best in me. Life. Every experience becomes more colorful, more fulfilling—and it’s only because she’s sharing it with me.
“I asked them to add chicken feet to the flight menu,” I joke, sitting opposite her. But her smile is forced. “Funny,” she says blandly.
“We can come back one day. I’m sure your brother will agree to you flying with me again,” I try to reassure her, already trying to figure out when I can bring her back. I still had so many things I wanted to show her here.
Last night, when her brother called to check in, I managed to convince him that we should stay another week.
I told him she needed this place, and I was distracting her from wanting to come home and any mischief she could be getting into.
He warned me that she’s feisty when she’s being controlled, but I assured him I was handling her well.
And he agreed. Another week.
Fuck. I actually went to sleep with the fattest smile ever, excited for another week in paradise with her. We’ve been growing closer. Getting to know each other on a deeper level and in ways we could never do with the restraints of being at home.
I thought it could only get better, and we could only grow closer the longer we stayed. I even started thinking that more might come of it.
But this morning I got an urgent call from my brothers.
Shit went down last night at one of our warehouses. They need me home to deal with it. I’m going straight there as soon as we’ve landed in Miami and I’ve dropped Angelika at the penthouse to make sure she’s somewhere safe.
Looking across at her, she’s staring out of the window at the clouds surrounding us in the bright blue sky. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, and she’s wearing a summer dress, ready for a Barbados adventure that never happened. She’s so beautiful it aches.
I wish I understood this pull I have toward her—why it’s there, what it means.
“Are you taking me home?” she asks when she sees me staring.
“I’ll drop you at my penthouse. It’s close and very secure. I’ll sort this drama out as quickly as possible.”
“You can take me with you. I might be able to help,” she suggests.
“No, Angelika,” I say too harshly. Taking a breath, I tone my voice down. “There was a bombing at a warehouse. There’s no telling whether it’s safe to go there. I can’t risk putting you in harm’s way.”
She pouts and turns to look out the window again without answering me.
The rest of the flight is plagued with a quiet tension.
I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but maybe it’s coming from me because I didn’t want to cut our time together short. But she seems angry with me.
The bottom line is that the operation that got attacked is fully my responsibility. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, it’s my job to deal with it. My brothers each have their own designated areas, and we have to take ownership of our own pieces of the puzzle.
This is mine.
I have to deal with it myself. If there was any way I could have had someone else do this for me, trust me, I would have.
***
Angelika steps into the penthouse when I push the door open for her.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I promise her.
She nods, staring blankly at her holiday bag. “Sure,” she replies, then turns to look at me.
Her eyes have a strange strength in them.
“Are you going to be ok here alone?”
“You said it was safe, so why wouldn’t I be?” she sasses.
“Alright. I was just asking,” I say defensively.
She reaches out to hold the door, half pushing it closed. “You’d better get going,” she tells me.
I step back, knotting my brows as she gently closes the door in my face.
What in the world just happened? Did she just kick me out of my own penthouse?
I don’t have time to dwell on it, though. The sooner I deal with the issues, the sooner I can get back to her and try to figure out what’s wrong.
Driving to the warehouse, I’m pulling my thoughts away from our island magic and back into work mode. A miserable task, but I have to do it.
As soon as I park outside, the warehouse manager comes running out. His face is knotted with stress. When I push the car door open and step onto the graveled, a sour smell invades my nostrils.
“What is that?” I ask, scrunching my nose.
“It’s a chemical bomb, sir. Custom-made so it’ll either be easier or more difficult to trace, depending on what they used to make it.
The analyst took a sample last night, and it’s not harmful on its own, but when it mixes with the product, it destroys it.
Turns it into poison. We have to dispose of everything. ”
“Fuck,” I murmur. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Yes, unfortunately, three men were in range when the bomb went off, and when the products went airborne in the explosion, mixed together, they breathed it in and… they didn’t make it, sir. Their lungs… dissolved. Some of the other guys came in contact afterward, and they sustained chemical burns.”
“That’s terrible,” I growl, horrified at how low people are willing to go to damage products. Why choose this method? Why not destroy it in a way that doesn’t harm people?
“And now? What happens if someone gets too close now? Have you cordoned off the area? I can’t have any more of my men exposed to this stuff.”
“If you touch the product now, it causes skin irritation, horribly uncomfortable, but no longer deadly. The guys doing the clean-up are wearing hazmat suits.”
I sigh, pushing my hand through my hair in agitation. This is fucked up. On a whole new level.
“First, I want to make sure the guys who need medical attention are getting it. Then, show me where the attackers got in. And I’d like to see the video footage too; please send it to my home computer.
I’m about to follow the floor manager into the warehouse when I see her. My jaw drops open, and I storm toward her as she climbs out of the car. She’s changed into a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt that hugs her body.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snap. Something sparks inside of me. Something unfamiliar, and I realize it’s fear. Not for myself, but for her. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to her.
Angelika tilts her head to the side, her mouth set, her eyes fierce. “I came to see if I could help.”
“Angel, this place is dangerous, you can’t be here,” I say tightly. My body is flooding with anxiety for her safety. She doesn’t even understand what she’s walking into in there.
“You need to go home. I told you to stay at home,” I demand, desperation flooding me.
“Oh, and you’re such a good example of doing what you’re told,” she smiles, a little cocky, challenging me.
I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t. She has a point.
“Aren’t you the one who taught me not to be afraid? To be bold? To follow my instincts?” she says.
“Yes, but…” I stammer. Not if it means you might get hurt.
“Well, then, don’t start contradicting yourself now, Diomid. What can I do to help?” she insists, pushing past me and walking straight toward the warehouse. I bolt after her, horrified.
I’ve never seen this side of her. She’s more confrontational than ever, and I fucking love it. It’s feisty and sexy and reckless and wild. It’s like she’s strong enough to match me. Her recklessness against mine. It’s fucking hot.
But it also terrifies me. If she’s going to start being as reckless as I am, how can I keep her safe?
Angelika is already inside the warehouse, walking toward the floor manager, who looks like he knows what’s going on.
“How can I help?” she asks him. Anger burns through me.
She’s making it impossible for me to keep her safe.
She can’t disobey me like this. What if something were to happen to her?
How would I live with myself? She should be at home, locked in the penthouse.
I should have used the master code so she couldn’t get out.
Wait.
What the fuck am I thinking?
I’m not this guy!
I don’t obsess over girls like this. I don’t care this much. Not about anyone but my family.
She’s different from anyone you’ve ever met, and you know it. Stop pretending otherwise.
Fine. But even if I do like her…like that… I don’t want to control her. That’s definitely not who I am.
I shove my hand through my hair again, frustration boiling over as I fight for control over my thoughts.
“Sir?” The floor manager looks awkwardly between Angelika and me.
“Diomid!” someone shouts across the warehouse. “Our second location just got hit!”
“Please, this can’t be happening,” I sigh.
The guy runs up to me, talking at full speed. “An explosion. The place is on fire. The guys are working to put it out. We need an ambulance. We need…”
I grab his shoulders. “Tony, take a breath. When did this happen?”
“Now, sir, right now.”
My floor manager glances around the warehouse, then at Tony, then at me. “We’ve got it covered over here, sir. It’s mostly sorted out, and once the disposal crew finishes the clean-up, everything will be clear here. They need you there more than we need you here.”
“Tell them I’m on my way. And call for medical assistance, send them there now.”
I spin and start jogging to my car. Angelika starts running toward hers. “Go home, Angel,” I demand.
“Not a chance,” she snaps. “I’m following you.”
With a loud groan, I squeeze my eyes shut. “Just get into my car, dammit,” I growl. She’s relentless, annoying, and driving me crazy in more ways than one.
She grins, a smile of triumph, and climbs into the passenger seat, clipping herself in. Glancing at her, I smile, seeing myself in her. She’s very special. It’s starting to really scare me, these feelings I’m having towards her.
On the drive to the second warehouse, I explain about the chemical bomb and that it might be the same at the second location, so she is not to run in there under any circumstances until we know what’s going on. She nods, listening closely, her expression horrified and sullen.
“People are so cruel,” she whispers, sighing softly.
“They are, and that’s why I need you to please listen to me when we get there,” I say, desperation edged into my voice.
“I will, Diomid, but you aren’t going to stop me from helping. So, I’ll listen, as long as you include me.”
Her eyes pierce into mine when I steal a glance at her.
She means it. She’s doing this with or without my consent.
“Fine. Deal,” I huff.
When we park outside the warehouse, I almost want to grab her and hold on tight to keep her close, but thankfully, she does as promised and stays at my side so I can assess the situation.
Thank goodness, it was not a chemical bomb.
It was a small, standard explosion device.
It targeted a very localized area, specifically around our product storage rooms located at the back of the warehouse.
The place is a mess, guys are working frantically to extinguish the flames, but there are very few casualties and no fatalities.