Page 72 of Ruthless Love

“Evie.”

His voice is hushed, but so warm and familiar that I pivot where I am and look again. Slowly, he lowers the glasses hiding his gorgeous eyes and tucks the gun behind his back. In three steps, Austin has me, and I collapse in his arms, unable to hold back a stream of warm, free-flowing tears.

Incoherent, I blubber and shiver, clinging to the safety of his hard chest and strong arms as he holds me close and tight. He leaves a few firm kisses on my head as he rocks me.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I don’t look at him, shaking my head as a new wave of tears stains his shirt. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Don’t worry about whatever he’s holding over you. We’ll take care of it. But we’re leaving. Now.”

He moves, ready to uproot me where I am and carry me away, but my arms tighten around his torso. Hard enough that he knows.

I’m not going.

I think of this man. The one who’s determined to save me. Who would throw me over his shoulder and whisk me away. And of his beautiful daughter with the carefree hair and angelic name. Gaby.

“I can’t,” I whisper, the apology heavy in the two small words.

“Whatever Dimitri has on you, we’ll fix it, Evie. You don’t know the kind of man he is—”

Austin stops, gently pulling his body from mine. With a tender hand cradling my nape, he tilts my head and tugs down my cardigan, giving himself a long look at my shoulder. Then he pins me with worried eyes, rubbing his thumb across my cheek.

“What’s he holding over you?”

“Nothing,” I lie, my breath staggered and weak.

I don’t want to say it. I can’t say it. Not without breaking something precious and fragile in Austin’s soul.

With my palms against his chest, I feel every ripple of tension that courses through his body like a sledgehammer against steel. But he takes half a breath before his hand cradles my cheek, and he removes the listening device from my ear and places it in his own.

His gaze fixed on mine, he uses his thumb to swipe at tears that are falling faster than he can keep up with. Speaking to Mav, he says, “I know you’ve been listening. I planted the ring, and you’ve got a guy on the inside. It’s the only way I got this far. What’s Dimitri holding over Evie?”

He listens, and there’s a point when his eyes soften that I know he’s been told. He understands. He gets it, the reason I have to stay. The life sentence I volunteered for, out of both fear and hope that he and Gaby will be safe. Together. I have some power to tighten their bond, a bond that I never had with my own father.

When Austin pulls me tight against his chest and I feel the thunder of his heart pounding against mine, I summon enough strength to push him away, ready to say good-bye. But he doesn’t let go. The arms he tightens around me make me a promise before he speaks a word.

“New mission, Mav. We’re rolling with Plan B. Lock and load for Operation Nikita.”

Chapter Forty-Four

EVIE

When I return to the house, I avoid the most direct route back to my room, laying as low as possible to avoid running into Dimitri. The doorbell rings, and I duck behind a column for the perfect vantage point I need to see the person entering. Or as Austin described when he outlined his plan to me, the operative.

God, this just might work.

Alexei answers, and immediately escorts the tall, leggy blonde to Dimitri’s bedroom. Her five-inch stilettos clack on the marble stairs as her body sways seductively for maybe no one’s pleasure but her own. I make no apologies when my eyes roll, though my gratitude gives me a twinge of guilt.

She’s well made up, but not overly showy except for her perfectly plump lips that are painted a dark cherry red. Her conversation with Alexei is in Russian, and he chuckles lightly. A whimsical trait I’ve never seen in the man.

Observant, she sees me and meets my gaze for barely a moment, but long enough that I catch her confident wink. Otherwise, she gives no indication that she’s seen me.

The sigh of relief that pours from my open lips is automatic, and I tiptoe my way up those same stairs, eager for the gilded prison I just escaped.

In the suite I’ve been held in, I shut the door, careful to keep it unlocked, but before I can relax too much, I hear someone behind me clear their voice. Startled, I whirl around, struggling to catch my breath.

A man dressed entirely in black greets me with a warm smile and a handsome face that seems, I don’t know, uncharacteristic for his outfit. Noticing the white of his collar and the long cross dangling from his neck, I address him as best I can.

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