Page 7 of Donovan Blake: Adrenalin

“We’re here,” he announced, turning off the engine.

“Where is here?” she mumbled, opening her eyes. “Wow, why do you have such a big garage?”

“It doubles as a work space. I mess around with stuff sometimes, and it has room for more cars if needed.”

“But there's nothing out there but trees,” she exclaimed, staring through a window as they climbed out.

“This is my hunting lodge, except I don’t hunt.”

“So...where do you take that thing,” she asked. “It has a cover, but it’s obviously a motorbike.”

“Nowhere in particular. Sometimes I just like to ride, but I know you must be totally exhausted. I’ll take you up to my bedroom so you can shower and get into bed. I have a couple of calls to make, then I’ll clean myself up and join you.” She stared at him, but didn’t comment. “Hey, there’s a guest room if you want it, more than one. I just thought you’d feel safer with me next to you. Damn,” he grunted, wincing as he opened the door leading to the kitchen.

“Donovan? Are you okay?”

“Fine, it’s just my shoulder. I must’ve hurt it in the fight. Come inside.”

Stepping in ahead of her, he wasn’t surprised when she stopped and stared.

“Wow again! This is amazing. Are you a gourmet chef?”

“I dabble, and there are times I have guests. But there’s a lot to see. If you stop and stare at everything you’ll never get to bed.”

“You’re not kidding,” she exclaimed as they entered the formal dining room and moved into an expansive living area. “This place is beautiful. Do you live alone?”

“For the moment. The bedrooms are upstairs. Follow me. Tomorrow when the sun’s up you’ll really love it. When you step outside it’s like another world. Actually, it is another world.”

“You have so many bronzes…and paintings. Are you a collector?”

“I am, but not just art,” he replied, turning to the right at the top of the stairs and walking down a wide hallway. “Here we are,” he continued, pushing open double doors and leading her into a large bedroom complete with a conversation pit around a fireplace. “The bathroom’s through there. Make yourself at home. If you want to start the fire just push that red button by the hearth.”

He was about to leave, but she was staring at him like a deer in headlights. He suddenly knew what she needed, and quickly pulled her into his arms. But as she leaned against him he felt not only fatigue seeping through his body, but vague aches and pains.

“Phoebe, take that shower and go to bed,” he murmured, breaking their hug. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, and wearily turning, she disappeared into the bathroom.

CHAPTER FIVE

Pushing past the pain from his bruised body and heavy weariness, Donovan slowed his pace as he moved down the hall and into his office. Pouring a glass of cognac, he downed a swallow then let out a sigh, relishing the spicy heat as it slid down his throat. With the deep warmth seeping through his being he settled into his chair to collect his thoughts. Finally opening a drawer, he picked up one of several burner phones and placed the first of two calls.

“Yeah. Who is it?”

Though uttering only a few words the Russian’s accent was thick.

“Boris, it’s me.”

“What the fuck? Where have you been? What happened?”

“It was a set-up. I was told I was being taken to meet with Franco, but instead I ended up in the back of a van blindfolded and tied up. He thought it would only take two of his soldiers to finish me off. He was wrong.”

“So—our Italian friend is a snake.”

“Yes, Boris, he’s a snake. We need to cut off his head and be done with it.”

“This would not be so easy. Where are you?”

“Somewhere safe. I need a couple of down days. Stay vigilant. We know it’s you he wants. My death was supposed to be a message. Watch your back.”

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