Chapter 4
Alexandria
The front door of the lodge is stuck.
Gunnar puts his shoulder to it, and it gives.
I step inside.
The air is colder than outside, and it smells kind of stale.
There’s dust on everything. A long table shoved against one wall. Chairs that don’t match. A couch that looks like it’s been through several lives and lost most of them.
One of the windows is boarded over from the inside. Another has a crack running from corner to corner like a fault line.
I stand there.
I don’t mean to. I just… stop.
Behind me, the door slams shut.
When the cops said safehouse, I imagined a secure unit. Modern. Alarms. Triple-lock doors.
Now I’m in a place that looks like it should come with a tetanus shot.
It looks abandoned.
I let out a slow breath.
“This is where you live?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
He takes in the room like he’s seeing it through my eyes for the first time.
“Yes,” he says finally.
Something tightens in my chest.
They chose this.
I glance down a dark hallway.
“So, what’s your deal?” I ask. “You just… take people in when they need somewhere to disappear?”
“Hell, no—” Orson growls.
“You’re our first client,” Torin cuts in, with a grin.
“Our only client,” Gunnar says. His gaze is locked onto mine. I feel like I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. “None of this was planned.”
“I need to use someone’s phone,” I demand. Before the cops stuffed me in their car, they searched me and took my phone. Communication devices are not permitted for people in witness protection. They even took my freaking Kindle.
“Not possible,” Gunnar says right away.
“Please, I need to make sure my cat’s going to be okay.”
He gives me a quizzical look. “Where is this cat?”
“She’s at home. I feed her as soon as I get back from work. She’ll be starving.”
“You didn’t tell the cops who brought you here?”
I sigh. “I did.”
I also told them that my mom is basically my dependent, and that I need to inform the cleaning agency I work for that I may not be around for a while.
“What did they say?”
“They said they’ll take care of it. But I don’t trust them.”
He gives me a long look. “I’ll look into it.”
“Does that mean you won’t?” I snap. I’m sick of men controlling me and fobbing me off with bullshit.
Surprise registers in his eyes. “I keep my word, Alexandria.”
“Thank you,” I mutter. I close my own eyes for a long beat. When I open them again, everything looks fuzzy.
God, I’m so darn exhausted. I haven’t slept for over twenty-four hours. “You have a guestroom for me or something?”
They exchange glances like they’re conferring with each other, but their lips don’t move.
Gunnar gestures down the hallway. “You’ll sleep back there.”
“Come on, I’ll show you—” Torin says.
“I’ll show her!” Gunnar’s voice is loud, and the other two step back.
He holds his hand out toward my shoulder. “Give me your bag.”
“I’ve got it.”
“You’re exhausted. You’re trembling.”
I glare at him. “I am not.”
His eyes drop briefly to my hands, then back to my face.
I hate that he’s right.
I hate more that he noticed.
He just keeps his hand there. Waiting.
I slide the backpack off my shoulder and hand it to him.
His fingers brush mine.
Heat shoots up my arm like a live wire, and I pull back too quickly.
He doesn’t react, but a muscle in his jaw twitches.
I follow him down a narrow hallway, past two closed doors. The floorboards creak under our weight. At the end, he pushes open another door.
It’s pitch black in there.
“Hold on.” He goes in, fiddles with something and a lamp on the far side of the room lights up, casting a weak glow across the room.
I flick the light switch by the door. Nothing happens. “Power out?” I ask.
“Don’t use it.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugs. “Never came up.”
I swallow a groan and survey the room. It’s huge. There’s a wide bed with an ancient-looking wooden frame. A dresser missing a handle. A window covered with heavy fabric.
Cold air has found its way in anyway.
“This one’s driest,” he says.
Driest.
I press my fingers to my temples.
He steps past me and crosses to the window. Adjusts the fabric. Tests the frame with his palm.
He wedges something into the corner, sealing it.
I press the mattress, testing it. It feels dry. That’s something.
Then Gunnar drops to one knee and reaches under the bed. “Might be some sheets down here.” He pulls out a vacuum-sealed bundle of what do look like sheets and blankets.
I unzip it and smell laundry powder.
“Used to be a hotel,” he grunts in response to my raised eyebrows.
I look at the patches of damp on the walls dubiously. “A long time ago.”
“Long time,” he agrees.
I sit down because suddenly my legs won’t hold me anymore. The mattress groans under my weight.
“What is it?” Gunnar asks. I startle at the softness of his tone.
“I’m all alone out here.”
“Not alone,” he says in a low growl.
I blink. He is right. I currently have three feral men for company. One of whom is looking at me with the unwavering stare of a predator.
“Why did the cops bring me here?” I blurt out.
“Guess they were desperate.” He sits on the edge of a motheaten old chair and gives me a long look. “But it’s worked out.”
“Has it?”
He shuffles forward, until our knees are inches apart. “Who wants you dead, Alexandria?”
The words hit me with a jolt and a sob bubbles up in me. I put my hand over my mouth to hide it, but his eyes narrow. He notices things.
“He told me he’d find me.”
His eyes blaze. “Who is he?”
“Russian.” I sigh. “Russian Mafia, I guess.”
His face darkens. “He’s your boyfriend?”
“No.” I give a mirthless laugh. “I saw him kill someone, that’s all. Purely by chance, when I was leaving work this morning.”
His features soften. “You were an innocent bystander.”
“Yeah.”
“Not part of that world.”
There’s a tenderness in his voice, and it touches something in me—something I protect at all costs.
“I’m just a regular person,” I say. “Who until today had a job and a cat and a mom who’s a pain in my ass, and a mountain of student debt…” I break off as my voice gets loud. I dig my nails into my palms. When I take a deep breath, it shudders in my throat.
“He won’t get to you, Alexandria,” he says.
“No?”
“I’ll keep you safe.” His gaze is intense, irises glowing gold. It’s an animal stare, I think, and the longer he stares, the faster my heart beats.
“W-why are you looking at me like that?” I stutter.
“I’ll tear them apart,” he growls. “Anyone who even thinks about hurting you.”
The bones in his face seem to be widening, and I sense that his animal is coming.
I should be afraid, but all I feel is an intense energy leaping between us—
Bang—
A hand smacks the doorframe. Followed by a deliberate, exaggerated clearing of a throat.
Gunnar’s gaze doesn’t leave mine.
“What?” he says flatly.
Torin leans around the doorway. “Orson’s fixed the boiler. Says it’s good and hot,” he announces. “Although…” A knowing look sweeps his face. “It feels pretty hot in here.” He grins like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.
My cheeks warm. “Great,” I say quickly, pushing to my feet. “Love hot water.”
I brush past Gunnar, and a scent wafts from him—spicy, rich, wild.
He doesn’t move.
But his eyes follow me all the way out.
There’s also an oil lamp sitting on a crate in the bathroom. I peel off my cleaning uniform and drop it on the floor. I’ve never been so desperate for a shower in my life. Six hours of non-stop stress sweating.
I’ve never been so scared.
Never had my life flip upside down like this.
I flick the shower on and search in my backpack for my gym towel, hoping it’s clean.
It’s cleaner than the threadbare towel hanging off the door anyway.
I test the water; it’s lukewarm. I step in.
In seconds, it’s hot. I close my eyes and let it run over me, washing away the tang of blood and reek of fear. For a moment, the steady rush of water drowns out everything else.
I try to empty out my mind.
But fragments push their way back in:
The sound that didn’t belong.
The way the kneeling man’s hands trembled.
The second shot.
The way the life spilled out of him.
The Russian’s face turning toward mine.
Recognition.
Ya tebya naydu.
I scrub at my skin, as though the poison is clinging there, instead of behind my eyes. In my heart.
My throat tightens. I press my palm flat against the tile and bow my head, letting the water hide the brief, humiliating sobs that burst out of me.
Then I inhale slowly, count it out, steady myself the way I used to before standing up to present in front of a room full of people.
He could’ve shot me so easily. But he didn’t.
I am still here.
And I’m being guarded by a man who, for no reason I can figure out, is intent on protecting me at all costs.