Chapter 6 Laney
Laney
Yakov stares at me for a long moment, his jaw tight, those dark eyes calculating. I can practically see him running through scenarios in his head. How to get me out of the car, how to lock me somewhere safe, how to handle the problem I've become.
But I meant what I said. I'm not getting out of this car.
"You're not coming," he says finally, his accent thicker when he's frustrated. Russian, I think, though I'm not sure. "It's too dangerous."
"My sister is there. In that warehouse. Maybe. Probably." My hands are shaking, so I clench them into fists in my lap. "I've spent a week doing nothing while she's been... while she's been wherever she is. I'm not sitting in some hotel room while you go find her without me."
"You'll be a liability."
"She is my sister."
"Laney—"
"You said she's mine now, right?" I throw his words back at him, and something flashes in his eyes. Heat. Surprise. "That I'm your responsibility? Well, Laurie is my responsibility. She's my twin. My other half. She needs me. And I'm not letting you go without me."
He studies me in the dim light of the parking garage. I watch his throat work as he swallows, his hand gripping the door so tight his knuckles go white.
"You stay in the car," he finally says. "You don't move. You don't make a sound. You do exactly what I tell you when I tell you. Understood?"
Relief floods through me so fast I feel dizzy. "Understood."
"And if I tell you to run, you run. No arguments. No looking back. You run, and you don't stop until you're somewhere with people and lights, and protection."
"Okay."
He closes the car door with a little more force than necessary, rounding the front and getting back into the driver’s side.
He puts the car back in drive and pulls out of the parking garage as he calls someone called Kaiden through the dash, updating him on where we’re going and what we’re doing.
Then we head east, away from the Strip, into the parts of Vegas that don't make it into tourist photos.
We don't speak for the first few minutes. I watch the city blur past, trying to process everything that just happened. The alley. The gun. The blood.
I just watched a man kill two people like it was nothing. Like he was swatting flies. He tortured one of them for information, shot him in both knees before putting a bullet in his brain.
But I don't feel scared of him.
I know I should. But instead, I feel... safe. Protected. Like something feral and dangerous has decided I'm worth keeping alive, and nothing in this city is going to touch me while he's breathing.
"You aren’t afraid of me," Yakov says, and it's not a question.
I glance at him. He's watching the road, but I can tell he's aware of me. Of every breath, every movement. Attuned to me.
"Should I be?" I ask.
"Most people would be." His response is low and matter-of-fact, like he can’t quite understand me.
"Most people didn't just experience their sister's kidnappers trying to grab them in an alley." I pull my jacket tighter around myself, even though it's warm in the car. "You saved my life."
"I killed two men in front of you."
"Men who were going to rape and traffic me, according to you." The words taste like ash. "You think I'm going to cry over them?"
His mouth quirks. Not quite a smile, but close. "No. I don't think you're the crying type."
"I cried earlier. At the apartment." I don't know why I'm telling him this.
"When I found all of Laurie's plants dead.
The food spoiled. Evidence that she hasn't been home in at least a week.
" My voice cracks despite my best efforts.
"I cried for exactly sixty seconds. Then I got up and kept looking. "
"Sixty seconds," he repeats softly.
"That's all I could afford."
We drive in silence for another minute. The buildings get shorter, more industrial. Warehouses and storage facilities. Empty lots filled with construction equipment.
"You're very beautiful," Yakov says suddenly.
I blink. "What?"
"Your sister. When I saw her photo from the casino's hiring records, I thought she was striking. But you..." He glances at me, and the heat in his gaze makes my breath catch. "You're identical, yes. But there's something about you. The way you move. The fire in you. It's..."
"What?" I ask, trying to keep the suspicion from my voice.
"Irresistible."
The word hangs between us, heavy with meaning I'm not ready to examine.
I should tell him to stop. That this is inappropriate, that I'm only here to find my sister, that I don't have time for whatever this is building between us.
But I don't. Because if I'd met him anywhere else, at a bar, at a party, in the normal world where men don't kill people in alleys and women don't get trafficked, I would've been interested.
Very interested.
He's gorgeous in a brutal sort of way. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw covered in dark stubble, those intense eyes that seem to see straight through me. His body is all lean muscle and controlled violence, the kind that makes you think of predators and dark desires.
And the way he looks at me...
Like I'm already his. Like it's inevitable. Like he's just waiting for me to accept what he already knows.
"You're staring," he says, amusement in his voice.
"Just thinking of what could have been, had we met under different circumstances." I tear my eyes from his profile, the slope of his neck disappearing beneath the collar of his black shirt.
"Circumstances are irrelevant," he says. "We would have always met."
His words take me by surprise. Or maybe it’s the tone or the confidence behind the statement. Whatever it is, it shifts something inside me.
"I think we were supposed to meet like this, that way you know who I am, and what I’m capable of straight away." He signals and turns onto a road that isn’t as well-lit as the previous one.
"I suppose," I admit quietly. "Which probably says something terrible about me."
"Or something honest." He takes another turn, heading deeper into an industrial complex.
"The world isn't black and white, Laney.
Good and evil aren't as clear as people want to believe.
Sometimes monsters are necessary. Sometimes they're the only thing standing between innocent people and even worse monsters. "
"Is that what you are? A necessary monster?"
A smile flickers over his face before it turns into something more calculated. "Yes."
"And my sister? The other girls? Are they just collateral damage in your war with the Albanians?"
His hands tighten on the wheel. "No. This isn’t my war with anyone. The Albanians came to this city uninvited and tried to start a business that my family will not tolerate. The women they took, they’re victims, and I will get them back."
"Why?" I press. "Why do you care? They're just cocktail waitresses. Just random girls who work in your casino."
"Because they were taken without our permission, and against their will," he says, steel in his voice.
"They work in my family's casino. They walk in my territory.
They live in my city. That makes them mine to protect.
And when someone takes what's mine..." He trails off, but I can fill in the rest.
When someone takes what's his, he hunts them down and puts bullets in their heads.
"You really mean that," I say, surprised. "You actually feel responsible for them."
"I am responsible for them." He glances at me. "Just like I'm responsible for you."
"I didn't ask for your protection," I counter, frowning a little.
He huffs a sound that’s somewhere between lack of amusement and resignation. "You still needed it though, didn’t you?"
We drive for another few minutes. The buildings get further apart. The outskirts of town bleed into desert, civilization giving way to emptiness.
"Tell me about your sister," Yakov says.
"Why?"
"Because I need to know who I'm looking for. What makes her different from the others. What might keep her alive longer."
It's pragmatic. Clinical. But I understand what he's really asking: Give me something to work with. Give me an edge.
"She's... she's sunshine," I say finally.
"I know that sounds stupid, but it's true.
She lights up every room she walks into.
Makes friends everywhere. Talks to strangers like they're old friends.
" I smile despite myself. "I'm the serious one.
The planner. The one who reads all the fine print and makes backup plans.
Laurie just... dives in. Trusts people. Believes the best of everyone. "
"That would make her easy to take."
"Yes." The word hurts. "She probably went with whoever took her willingly at first. If they seemed nice, if they offered to help or buy her a drink or give her a ride home... she would've said yes."
"And you wouldn't have."
"No. I would've said no, walked away, probably pepper-sprayed them if they insisted." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I'm the paranoid twin. The one who always thinks something bad is going to happen."
"You were right."
I sigh. "I wish I wasn't."
We fall into silence again. But it's not uncomfortable anymore. It's charged. Electric. Like the air before a storm.
I'm hyperaware of him. The way his hands move on the steering wheel, confident and sure. The line of his jaw. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders. The faint scent of gunpowder and something more primal and so very masculine.
He smells like danger.
"You're thinking about things you shouldn’t be," Yakov says softly.
"What?" I ask, snapping out of my thoughts and hoping the blush creeping over my face isn’t obvious in the darkness of the car.
"You’re thinking about what would happen if I pulled this car over right now. If I kissed you. If I put my hands on you the way I've been wanting to since I saw your photo."
My breath catches. "I’m not."
"Yes, you are." He glances at me, and the heat in his eyes nearly burns.
"I can feel it in the way you look at me.
" He turns his attention back to the road.
"You're attracted to me. You don't want to be, but you are.
And you're angry about it because your sister is missing and you think you shouldn't be feeling anything but fear and worry. "
"Stop reading my mind," I grumble.
"I'm not reading your mind. I'm reading your body." His voice drops lower, rougher. "And it's telling me everything I need to know."
I want to deny it and tell him he's wrong, that I'm not interested, that this is completely inappropriate. But the words don’t come.
"My sister is missing." I say instead. "I watched you shoot two men. And I'm sitting here wondering what your hands would feel like on my skin. What kind of person does that make me?"
His jaw clenches.
"I know. I know it's wrong. I know I should be focused on finding Laurie and nothing else. Maybe it’s because that’s all I’ve been thinking of, worrying about for the last seven days…
" I press my palms against my thighs, trying to ground myself.
"But no one has ever looked at me like you did. Like I was already yours."
"You are."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true." He takes another turn and flicks the headlights off.
Warehouses rise out of the desert like concrete monuments.
"From the moment I saw you, I knew. You're mine, Laney.
And when this is over, when we find your sister and deal with Zajmi, I'm going to make sure you understand exactly what that means. "
Heat pools low in my belly. "Oh."
Yakov parks behind a cluster of abandoned vehicles on the side of the road.
"This is as close as we get without being seen," he says, all business now. The heat from a moment ago is banked but not gone. "I'm going to scout it out. You stay here. Doors locked. If anyone approaches the car, you drive away. Understood?"
"What if it's you?"
"I'll knock three times, fast. Anything else, you run."
"Yakov—"
He cups my face with both hands, thumb brushing over my lips. "You will stay safe. That's not negotiable."
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine. This is what I do." He leans in close, so close I can feel his breath on my skin. "But I need to know you'll be here when I get back."
"I will be."
I swallow, picking his phone up from the centre console between us and inputting my number, texting my phone.
"Just in case you need me. In case Laurie needs me."
He holds my gaze for a long moment, searching for something. Then he nods and pulls away, taking his phone and checking his gun before slipping out of the car. I watch him disappear into the shadows between warehouses, moving like smoke, like death.