Chapter 12
Alina
The city looks different today as we ride along the FDR. The never-ending traffic is slow-moving as usual, and the sun is out, puffy white clouds moving silently above the skyscrapers. But it feels like there’s a dark storm following the SUV.
I’m strapped in the back with Dominik, the faint smell of leather and gun oil filling my lungs and a question burning a hole through my chest: What does it say about me that I offered to sell seven nights of my body to save my brother’s life?
That I let him touch me that way last night, just to get my way today?
I tell myself it was strategy when I traded my body for Archer’s life, not because something in me leaned toward Dominik like it already belonged with him.
I wish I could blame our kiss that became more on the wine, but I only had one glass.
I may need more than that tonight.
I’m trying not to think about what happens later. The only thing I’m certain of is that I doubt I would’ve made that same agreement with just any man.
Part of me must trust Dominik. And I guess I can finally admit to myself that I’m also attracted to him, that there’s a connection between us. As bizarre as that is to imagine, it’s true. I want him, more than I’ve let myself want anything in a very long time.
It frustrates me to no end because I shouldn’t. Right now, I should be focused on the confrontation with Archer, nothing else.
Dominik sits angled toward me, one arm along the seat behind my back, wearing his usual intimidating dark suit.
The driver up front is silent, concentrating on maneuvering through the heavy, midday traffic.
Viktor rides shotgun next to him, the bald man’s hands resting on his knees, relaxed and fearless.
Behind us, Petrov’s SUV remains at a polite distance with other men.
“Vest,” Dominik says quietly. He reaches back to the empty third row of seats and removes one, then holds it out to me.
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” I ask as I take it from him. It’s lighter than I expected for bulletproof fabric.
“Yes, it’s necessary unless you want me to take you back to the penthouse.”
Fine. I try to slide it over my summer dress and get tangled in straps, stupid and clumsy and suddenly too hot under my collar. Dominik’s hands come up, large and steady, to untwist the mess I’ve made.
“Arms up,” he says.
I lift them. He guides the vest down, tightens one strap, then another. His knuckles brush the side of my breast, and my breath jumps in that annoying way my body has decided to betray me with lately. Dominik notices. Of course he does. I hate that my body answers him faster than my brain does.
His eyes lift to mine for a second as if thinking about the similar sounds I made last night, but he’s polite enough to not comment. He pulls a final tab snug at my ribs, close enough that my pulse has to go around his touch to keep moving.
I shouldn’t notice the warmth of his fingers. I shouldn’t notice the small scrape of his fingertips against my skin; the faint rasp of calluses that say he’s done more than bark orders at men. I shouldn’t think about any of that because the deal we made is already at the forefront of my mind.
A week. In his bed. In exchange for Archer’s life. Starting tonight, after my brother is safe.
“You’re quiet,” Dominik says as he and Viktor put on their vests with practiced movements, like they do it as often as brushing their teeth.
“I’m nervous, okay?” It comes out sharper than I mean. Despite wanting it, I’m still angry at the deal I made, at myself for the way his comforting scent makes my knees feel like they’ve forgotten how to stay together.
His lips tip up half a degree. “Try taking a deep breath.”
“I know how to breathe,” I say. Then I do it for real when he slides two fingers under the vest near the edge of my collarbone and adjusts the strap, so the Kevlar won’t bite. The touch is barely anything. My mind still turns it into more.
“Tell me the plan again,” I say, because talking passes the time.
“We’ll arrive at the meeting spot shortly,” he says. “Archer will see that you’re alive and well, hand over the cash. My men will search him. After that, we’ll all get in the SUVs and leave.”
“And then?”
“Then, your brother stays somewhere close, under guard, where we can count the money and question him about where the guns went.” His eyes lift to mine, steady. “And you will come back home with me.”
I nod because anything else would be an admission I’m not ready to make in a moving car with other men.
We leave the chaos of the city behind and take an exit onto a narrow road. The river falls away to our right, then the buildings change. The glass boxes become rundown warehouses. Somewhere farther south, a horn blares a ship’s arrival, departure, or a complaint. It’s followed by silence.
“He’s going to come,” I say with more confidence than I currently feel.
“Archer said he would,” Dominik offers, but he doesn’t do false comfort. That’s why he adds, “He also said we could trust him before he stole from us. I hope he’s telling the truth today.”
I press my palms against my knees and focus on the feeling of the dress’s soft cotton fabric against my skin. “Archer makes rash decisions sometimes, but he keeps his promises to me.”
“People like your brother have a talent for meaning their promises when it’s the most convenient for them. I hope that’s not a genetic flaw.”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” I assure him since he obviously thinks I’m going to change my mind about spending a week with him once my brother is safe.
That would probably be the best way to go about it, but I’m not a liar.
And I’m not na?ve enough to think that Dominik wouldn’t back out of his agreement to keep Archer alive if I refused him.
The contract we both signed this morning failed to mention what happens if one of us is in breach of our agreement. I’m pretty sure that was on purpose.
While it was all typed up on a simple sheet of paper, it felt like I signed it in something more permanent than ink.
“Does your brother keep his promises?” I don’t know why I ask Dominik this question. Maybe because changing the subject and thinking about a different brother might keep me from wanting to shout at mine.
“Always,” he says. “Even the ones you wish he wouldn’t.”
“And you?”
His gaze doesn’t move from mine. “I keep the ones I speak. I’m careful about which ones those are and who I give them to.”
I appreciate his honesty. I appreciate everything he’s done to make me feel safe.
“When we arrive, you will stay behind me at all times. Is that understood?” Dominik asks.
“We’re just meeting up with my brother,” I remind him. “Archer wouldn’t be insane enough to come armed.”
“He’s not just your brother in this scenario, though, is he? He’s the idiot who stole crates of high-powered weapons and sold them to the highest bidder.”
I hate his logic. I hate that it’s the only thing that keeps the gravity of this meeting from grinding down my bones.
Viktor speaks from the front for the first time. “Truck at the corner. Engine off. Two silhouettes. Might be sleeping. Might be pretending.”
“Agreed.” Dominik’s hand grazes the back of my arm like a tether. Bringing his mouth so close to my ear, I can feel his breath, he says, “Just stay behind me, hellcat.”
A shiver runs up my spine that isn’t entirely fear. I nod my agreement. I wish I were the kind of woman who could be offended by him calling me “hellcat” in two different languages. I’ll save that fight with myself for later.
The driver rolls us to a crawl as we slide past a loading dock. We turn in under a pier where, even from inside the SUV, the wind smells like metal filings and cold salt water.
The meet is supposed to happen in this weed-choked parking lot of a forgotten warehouse.
It’s a tall stack of bricks with a line of broken windows that look like sharp teeth.
The SUV slowly bumps over the cracks in the asphalt before coming to a stop in the shadows of the building.
The other vehicle settles behind us obediently.
“It’s time, and he’s late,” Viktor says.
“We’re two minutes early,” Dominik replies with a glance at his phone before putting it away. “Hopefully, he doesn’t keep us waiting long.”
He opens his door and climbs out. When he rounds the car to my side, I have the sudden urge to grab his arm and keep hold of it. The thought embarrasses me enough that I reach for the handle instead.
Dominik is already on the concrete when I step out, his dress shoes brushing over the grit. In the shade, the air is colder than it was in the city. It comes off the water in windy gusts that find the gaps in my clothing.
Viktor takes point, his head on a swivel. He even keeps an eye on the empty sky above us. Petrov crosses behind the SUV with another man I haven’t met. The four of them and two drivers spread out around us, covering all sides.
Viktor checks his watch and makes the announcement. It’s now one minute past the meetup time.
Then two.
“Soon. He’ll be here soon,” I whisper. It comes out sounding more like a prayer than a truth though.
“Three minutes is generous,” Viktor remarks. “Five is sloppy. Seven is suicide.”
“He’ll come.” I sound like a child, one full of hope and innocence.
Where the hell is Archer? Doesn’t he realize what’s at stake?
“Either he will in two minutes, or he won’t, and we leave,” Dominik replies.
Around the five-minute mark, something shifts in the building’s shadows.
My fingers go numb from the cold. Dominik’s weight changes almost imperceptibly in front of me.
“Eyes open,” he orders his men, quieter than a whisper, and I see more men than I knew were there move along the edges of shadow—our guys. Or Dominik’s.
Viktor announces in the silence, “Three vehicles together coming from the west. Rolling slow.”
My mouth dries. “Archer said he would come alone, right?”