Lily
I’m not a screamer. Bugs don’t bother me, and if a bee flies into my face when I’m out for a walk, I don’t lose my shit over it.
But this gigantic man hurdling toward me, combined with the fresh agony of losing someone so close to me, causes me to release such a visceral scream that it makes my own ears ring.
As loud as that is, however, it’s nothing compared to what comes next.
“Stay down!” the man bellows as he runs into me, making a surprisingly gentle impact for how fast he’s moving.
An explosion of sound follows, lights flashing like fireworks from the car behind us. We’re thrust into pure chaos, and only then do I understand the true danger I’m in as bullets hit the ground around us.
My attacker quickly turns to a hero, carrying me a few yards to the left and tossing me behind a hefty concrete gravestone. Chunks fly off, almost lost in the torrential downpour as they scatter around us.
He uses his body to shield me, covering me completely and guarding me from the bullets and rain. His protective reaction is distinct and immediate, with no hesitation whatsoever, and I’m struck by how natural it feels.
It’s in this moment that I know that he’s just as much the danger as he is my ticket to safety. While a fire can warm you, it can also burn you until there’s nothing left but ashes.
For now, I revel in his warmth, my reluctance toward him dissolving as his capable hands find my shoulders and squeeze them. “Stay low. They will pass,” he says, his voice thickened by the same Russian accent Dimitri has.
Now, I’m certain they’re linked.
If I could only get a look at the ring on his finger, I’d know just how close they are. If it’s the same as Dimitri’s, I’ve hit the jackpot of information.
My body shakes, both with fear and anticipation of learning the truth.
“Stay here, Lily. Don’t move,” the man grumbles as the bullets stop. He climbs off me, pressing his hand into my shoulder to keep me on the soggy ground.
“How… how do you know my name? Who are you?”
His green eyes smile at me, but his face remains deathly serious. “I’m Ivan, and I know a lot more than your name, sweetheart, but there’s not time to talk. Just trust me.”
My nails sink into the ground like the earth is trying to throw me off. The shooting starts up again, but this time, Ivan doesn’t cower. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a pistol, jumping up and firing a few shots before taking cover again.
Good god, he’s armed. I knew he was trouble by the way he reacted to the shooting, taking action like he knew this was going to happen. The gun backs up my initial feelings about him.
Trouble, no matter how handsome, is still trouble.
I learned that in college, but back then, it didn’t mean I was at risk of getting riddled with bullet holes. I’d rather get my heart broken than turned into Swiss cheese, but Ivan seems like he could do both with very little effort.
“I said, don’t move,” Ivan says as he returns to me, squatting down with a scowl on his face. “They’re not going to spare you just because you’re a civilian.”
A civilian? What does that make him? Is he with the police force?
There’s simply no way, not with the Russian letters tattooed on the side of his face.
“I’m not moving,” I say, even as I turn my head to check the ring on his finger.
It’s a ruby on his pinky finger, set in the exact same gold band with cryptic etchings as Dimitri always wore.
“Jesus, girl, you don’t know how to listen,” he growls, pushing me down into the ground harder. “Don’t move or you’re going to get fucking shot.”
I don’t know whether it’s a threat or a warning, but I heed it this time, covering my head with my hands and pressing my entire body into the ground. It’s freezing cold and flooded with enough water to drown in, but it’s better than the alternative.
“Fucking bastards,” Ivan growls, firing off a few more shots before ducking down again. “I knew they’d be here. Can’t get them off my ass.”
“Who?” I ask, speaking into the ground for fear of moving again.
“There’s not enough time to explain,” he replies, grabbing my shoulder and tugging it. “Come. We have to move.”
“You told me not to.”
Ivan snarls something in Russian, probably something profane, and he grabs me, tossing me on his shoulder and sprinting off like I don’t weigh a thing. The world bobs up and down as I dig my nails into his back, trying to hold myself steady enough to see what’s happening as he takes us away from the fight.
I can see the attacking car now, rolling slowly down the street as it’s fired at from multiple directions. Several of Ivan’s men are also ducked behind gravestones, creating a semicircle of firepower, but it’s doing surprisingly little against the vehicle.
It must be bulletproof, but that only raises more questions than it answers. Regular street thugs don’t have access to bulletproof cars, and drive-bys don’t usually take this long. This is a park and shoot situation, and the car might as well be a tank.
Whoever is behind this, they’re not only after Ivan. They’re trying to shed as much blood as possible.
The smell of smoke enters my nose as Ivan carries me away. It’s not from his gun, though. I can smell it in the thick black wool of his coat, mixed with spices and something that reminds me of Dimitri.
It’s earthy, peppery, and warm.
“My car is parked down the road,” Ivan says, slowing his pace. He pats me on my ass absentmindedly to reassure me, but all it does is send an unwarranted jolt of thrill through my core.
“You can put me down,” I say, afraid I’ll lose my grip on the situation if he touches me like that again.
“Once we’re to the car. I don’t want you running off,” he replies.
None of this makes any sense. Why would I run off when he’s the one trying to save me? Am I being kidnapped?
My racing thoughts can barely coagulate into coherent ideas before being pushed away by more questions. My heart is pumping just as fast, flushing my face with heat as we break away from the rain and find shelter in Ivan’s car.
It’s a two-door coupe, glossy black and nearly invisible in the pouring rain. It’s only once I’m set down in the passenger’s seat that I realize he’s driving something exotic.
Ivan falls down in the seat beside me, slumping into the smooth red leather as he pushes a button to start the engine. It roars to life, cutting through the white noise of rain on the windshield.
“That’s my girl,” Ivan says, a smirk dancing across his lips.
In the stillness of the car, I can see his face better. His thick brown hair hangs over his forehead, dripping water across the deep creases in his weathered face. The sharpness of his eyes betrays the deepness of his wrinkles. I’ve never seen a face that looked so full of stories, yet so eager to make new ones.
Ivan’s eyes aren’t the only things that strike me as unique. His jaw, wide and firm, is the jaw of a man who’s made tough decisions and stood by them. It’s unyielding like an iron beam in a snowstorm, but the way that Ivan just smiled tells me his jaw is capable of expressing more than brutal commands.
His lips are really what give away the warmth that lurks beneath the surface of his rigid exterior. They’re not thin and sucked into his mouth like an old man. They’re plump and youthful, and I dare say I get a little curious by looking at them.
What would it feel like to have them pressed against mine?
I take a sharp breath as the thought crosses my mind, breathing it out and trying desperately to forget how Ivan’s lips made me feel.
“Are we safe now?” I ask, looking out the window for a distraction. I can’t see a thing from the rain. It’s unrelenting.
The leather steering wheel creaks beneath Ivan’s heavy hands. “We’re never safe.”
I can’t help but to laugh, but it comes from a place of fear. “That’s awfully ominous.”
“So be it,” he grumbles, taking a sharp turn. The car handles it well, despite the perilous road conditions.
I grab my seatbelt, pulling it over my chest and locking it in place. It would be a shame to survive a shooting, only to die in a car accident minutes later.
Ivan’s eyes shift over to me, laughter dancing in them. “Safety first,” he teases with a wicked grin.
I scoff, folding my arms over my soggy chest. Even my leather jacket is soaked, despite normally being quite resistant to rain. I might as well have jumped into a pool and stayed underwater for an hour.
“You must think you’re funny, but you’re not,” I say, my emotions much drier than my physical self.
“I like to think I have a sense of humor,” Ivan replies, still grinning. “But on a more serious note, I prefer not to wear a seatbelt. It makes fleeing the vehicle a lot faster.”
“Yes, I suppose flying through the windshield is rather quick.”
He laughs. “There, see! You also have a sense of humor.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, but seriously, you should probably put it on. It’s bad enough that you’re driving like you’re trying to get into an accident on purpose.”
“How could it be an accident if it’s on purpose?” he asks, finally putting on his seatbelt.
“A wreck,” I nearly shout. “You know what I mean. Jesus, I thought you were a little scary at first, but it turns out you’re just annoying.”
“I can be scary, if you prefer,” he replies, the smile melting off his chiseled face in an instant. His eyes dull, and his jaw clenches as he looks toward me, still driving at a dangerous speed through the pouring rain.
“Look at the road!”
He doesn’t move an inch, his eyes burning through me with the heat of a thousand flames.
My throat tightens, and I shift away from him in my seat. “Ivan, seriously. You’re freaking me out.”
“Good,” he grumbles. “You should know who you’re dealing with.”
I shove my hands between my thighs and squeeze them. “Okay, I’m sorry. I actually don’t know who you are, only that you know my uncle Dimitri somehow.”
“Dimitri is family to me, but not in the civilian sense,” he says, rubbing his recently shaved chin. It scratches with the sound of new stubble, despite the lingering smell of aftershave.
He keeps using that word, civilian, but I’m too scared to ask him what it means. The way he switched from teasing me to being stone-cold serious was frightening enough not to risk it happening again.
So, I just offer him a thin smile and nod.
Ivan takes a turn down another street, and we finally start to slow down. He’s more comfortable, his broad shoulders dropping a few inches as he observes the road ahead. He smooths his wet hair back, and I notice the ring again.
“Dimitri has the same ring,” I blurt before I can reconsider.
Ivan raises an eyebrow. “And he never told you what it meant.” His response is a statement, not a question. It sounds like he knows much more about Dimitri and his relation to me than I know about him.
“No,” I mutter. “He never did.”
“And you will wish it had stayed that way once I explain what it stands for,” he says, his voice deep and serious. “But you have no other choice now. You’re tangled in a web you can’t escape from and struggling will only make it worse. Accept your new life, Lily, or you will surely end up dead.”