Chapter Fourteen Anya
My training kicks when the van door opens.
If I let him get me inside it, I’ll likely die.
Bending backwards, I let my body go limp.
I may be petite, but I’m also all muscle.
My dead weight angled away from the man makes it impossible for him to continue carrying me.
He stumbles, which gives me the distraction I need.
I purposely tangle my legs with his, tripping him.
He releases me as he braces for a fall. Using all my strength, I kick my attacker in the crotch with a développé Madame Volkov would be proud of.
The man screams in pain as he clutches his abused nether region.
Spinning, I find Skylar effortlessly manhandling her attacker.
The blood dripping down his face tells a story.
A noise behind me draws my attention back to the van.
Two men jump out, ready to help their friends.
However, before they can reach us, three men rush into view: grunts and the sound of flesh beating on flesh echo in the enclosed space.
Our attackers push our saviors away and jump into the van.
The van speeds away while our rescuers check that we’re okay.
“I’ll call for a cab,” one says before he moves toward the street. He speaks in English, but with a heavy Russian accent. There’s something familiar about his voice, but he keeps his face turned away.
“Are you two alright?” one asks. He’s handsome, with black hair and chocolate-brown eyes. His accent tells me that he’s American.
“We’re fine. Thank you for helping us,” Skylar says, narrowing her eyes at the men. “You’re Americans. Southern.”
The man next to me laughs. “We are. I recognize you. You’re Skylar Prince. What are you doing in Russia?”
“Filming. I didn’t catch your names,” Skylar says.
“We didn’t give them,” the man next to me says before turning his attention to me. “You’re Anya Stepanova.”
The way he’s looking at me and the fact that he knows my name have me stiffening.
But before I can question him, the two men are rushing us toward the taxi that their friend has procured.
My rescuer helps me inside, just as the third man gives the driver directions to my home.
How did he know my address? Once again, I’m struck by how familiar his voice sounds.
Leaning forward, I try to see his face, but he turns away from me.
All I manage to make out is a white-blonde beard.
“What the hell just happened?” Skylar explodes, heaving a sigh as she leans back in the seat.
“Someone just tried to kidnap us. Who do you think they were after? Me or you?”
Skylar shrugs. “Could have been both of us. I don’t know.”
“Thank god those men showed up when they did. Strange that Americans saved us. I wonder what they were doing there? Did they look like ballet enthusiasts to you?”
Skylar snorts out a laugh. “I don’t think so. There was something familiar about them. Or at least the two Americans,” Skylar muses.
“You know them? Because the third one seemed familiar to me, but I can’t place him. Something about his voice,” I trail off, then have an idea. Leaning forward, I question the driver. “Did you know the man who hailed this taxi?”
He shakes his head, but doesn’t speak.
“How did he pay?”
“Cash,” the man barks out.
“And you’re certain you don’t recognize him? Because I think he’s Russian.”
“Nyet.”
Knowing I won’t get anything more from him, I lean back and turn to face Skylar. “I need to tell my father about this. I don’t know what happened to my driver, Rurik. I didn’t see the car, did you?”
Skylar shakes her head. “I hope he’s okay. Can you call him?”
“Good idea,” I say, taking out my phone and searching for him. When I place the call, the phone rings, but then flips over to voicemail. I leave him a message, explaining that I took a cab home, just in case he got tied up in traffic or something equally innocuous.
Skylar and I exit the cab after thanking the driver. He assured us that our protector provided more than enough for the trip. We dash into the house, and I head straight for my father’s study. Without knocking, I burst inside and rush over to him.
“Father, someone just tried to kidnap us,” I cry out before realizing that he’s not alone.
The two men sitting across from him rise from their seats. The blonde man has me sucking in my breath because at first glance, I think it’s my brother. However, on closer inspection, I realize that he resembles Alexi, but it isn’t him.
“What happened?” the darker of the two asks.
He’s incredibly handsome with black hair framing an angular face.
The clipped beard makes him look both elegant and rugged.
His eyes set off a flutter in my belly. They’re blue, but not the blue of a warm sky.
No. His eyes are the color of blue you’d find in the coldest layer of ice.
However, instead of making me feel cold, I feel my body heat up. He’s magnificent.
“I’m sorry, Father,” I should have knocked. “I forgot you were having company for lunch.”
“It’s alright, now tell us what happened?”
The men move so Skylar and I can take the seats they vacated. The dark-haired man moves behind the desk to join my father, while the blonde-haired man stands behind us.
“Skylar and I were leaving the theater. I was looking for Rurik, but I didn’t see the car before two men grabbed us,” I say, glancing at Skylar in case she wanted to add something to the discussion.
“They were pulling us toward a van when we managed to fight them off. However, two more men exited the van and came for us. That’s when three Americans arrived and fought them off for us. ”
“Americans?” the dark man asks.
I shrug. “Two of them were Americans. I think the third might have been Russian. He had a heavy accent.”
I see the man share a look with his friend, but I ignore them when my father speaks to me. “What happened to Rurik? What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. I tried calling him, but I got his voicemail.”
My father picks up his phone and makes a call. I assume he’s calling Rurik. I glance at the dark man to find him studying me.
“Are you alright? Do either of you need anything? Tea? Water? I can get you something.”
“I’ll go,” says the man behind us. I hear the door open and shut.
“My apologies, I should introduce myself,” he says. “My name is Vladimir Zoloth, and the man who just left is my friend, Dominic Stoya.” He offers his hand to me, so I shake it.
“I’m Anya. Anya Stepanova. This is my friend, Skylar Prince.”
Vladimir turns his attention to Skylar, who is staring open-mouthed at Vladimir.
“Problem?” Vladimir asks her.
She shakes her head. “Sorry, you just look familiar. Have we met before?”
Vladimir smiles at her, and I have to suck in my breath. He’s gorgeous, and that smile should be illegal. He looks like he should be on the movie screen rather than standing in my father’s study.
“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Vladimir says. “You’re American.”
“I am. So are you,” Skylar says. I can hear the suspicion in her tone, but she doesn’t change her expression from idle curiosity.
“I’ve lived in many places, but my home and my heart are in New Orleans,” Vladimir says.
I frown at his mention of his heart. Does this mean he’s married and his wife and family are in New Orleans?
I glance at his hands, but he’s not wearing a ring.
Not all men do, so that doesn’t confirm or deny my suspicions.
I imagine that a man as handsome as he is has to be married.
She’s probably a model or a wealthy socialite.
I feel like a child sitting in my father’s chair, wearing sweats and no makeup.
Without makeup, I appear even younger than my years.
“New Orleans?” Skylar says in surprise. “That’s where I’m from originally. I was just there a few days ago visiting my friend, Cleo.”
“Cleo Golubrev?” Vladimir asks, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
I glance at Skylar to see that she’s sporting a similar expression. “Yes. How do you know Cleo?”
The door opens behind us to allow Nadia to enter, along with Dominic.
Dominic carries a tray holding cups, saucers, and a teapot.
There are also small plates and a tiered serving dish filled with pastries.
He places it on my father’s desk, then steps back to allow Nadia access.
She begins filling cups and plates before handing them to Skylar and me.
“I can’t reach him,” my father says, brushing Nadia’s arm as he returns to his chair. “Thank you, Nadia. I’m sure the tea will benefit the girls.”
“Dominic and I could search for him,” Vladimir offers.
“Would you? I would appreciate it. He’s been with the family for years. His father was our driver before him.”
I give them the route that Rurik takes to and from the theater, while Father gives them some suggestions on where Rurik might go when he’s waiting to pick me up.
“Wait, how do you know Cleo?” Skylar asks as Vladimir and his friend move toward the door.
Vladimir glances back at Skylar and grins.