Page 45 of Kingston's Rival

“You seem to have it all worked out,” Casper admired.

* * *

Persy agreed, the couple did. “Why did you need to involve me if you already had Martyna’s escape so well planned out?”

Martyna arched a blonde brow. “You contacted me, if you remember.”

“Because after the restaurant incident was reported in the press, I thought you needed saving.”

“I did need saving,” the other woman confirmed. “I was an idiot to have ever married Vadim in the first place.” Martyna grimaced. “But it was because of your offer to help me that Piotr was able to organize renting another apartment in this building but also remain at Vadim’s side during my escape and during these past two days. That plan ensured he did not suspect Piotr of being involved in any wrongdoing.”

Persy gave a rueful smile. “Well, at least I was good for something.”

“You’re good at a lot of things,” Casper assured her softly.

She shot him a reproving glance. “We’re having a serious conversation here.”

“I know, but to be honest, I’ve had enough of serious conversations for one morning.” He looked at the other couple. “If you need us for anything else, please let us know. You have Persy’s cell phone number, I presume?”

“I do,” Martyna confirmed. “Thank you so much for helping me.” She gave Persy a heartfelt hug before the two of them parted at the door of the apartment. “You are a true hero. A warrior,” she complimented.

* * *

“That’s exactly what you are,” Casper said to Persy as they walked away from the apartment. “A warrior and a hero,” he added when she frowned.

She snorted. “I don’t feel much like either of those things when it turns out Martyna didn’t really need my help.”

“But you are,” Casper insisted. “You’re a David unafraid to go up against a Goliath. In this case, a Russian oligarch who orders the execution of anyone who displeases him.”

In stark contrast, Casper was fucking exhausted after a morning of dealing with one fraught situation after another.

He wasn’t going to include spending the night making love with Persy in the reasons for that tiredness, because he had every hope of being able to repeat that lovemaking at their earliest opportunity.

He was still coming to terms with Rachel Somers being the shadowy figure in dark clothing on the security tapes who had punctured his tires and scratched the paintwork. Let alone almost killing him after messing with the brakes on his car and then slashing the Jaguar’s leather seats.

The recordings from the garage and Rachel’s own confession to the crimes made it impossible to deny that was exactly what had happened.

He’d give Mike a couple of days before contacting him and suggesting the two of them go out for a drink together. Not clubbing, because Casper’s clubbing days were over, unless Persy wanted to go to one too. All of Casper’s bachelor pursuits were over now that he’d met his partner, his equal, the woman he admired as well as loved.

The past few days felt like he’d been involved in a plot from a damned movie. Russian oligarchs. Executed bodyguards. Polish gangsters. Speed boats arriving in the dead of night to whisk away the heroine and her hero. And that was without learning of Rachel’s involvement in the damage to his car.

It all served to remind Casper of exactly why he preferred to work behind a computer screen rather than physically go out into the field.

None of which was helping fight off the waves of tiredness now crashing over him.

He came to a halt before they entered the stairwell. “Would you mind if we don’t go back to the estate right away?”

* * *

Persy looked at him searchingly, easily noting how the lines beside Casper’s mouth and eyes, usually caused by laughter, were now deeply etched and owed nothing to amusement.

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you,” she guessed.

“I am.”

Well, at least he admitted it. “No problem. You can sleep in the SUV while I drive you home.”

“I am home.”

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