Page 49 of Little Blue

Misha pulls his phone from his pocket, scrolling the weekly email he’s cc’d on. It tells me everything about not only Popov, but his two remaining sons. I’ve already taken his oldest. I’d hoped it would be enough to sway him to back down.

“Yes,” Misha confirms.

“Is he sailing?”

“He’s docked.”

“Good. We’re flying to Florida.”

I’ve already been away from her for a week. Not long now and I’ll inhale cookies. I’ll learn the taste of those puffy pink lips I think about damn near constantly.

On the plane, I let my eyes drift closed even though I won’t sleep. Like every time I’ve closed my eyes since I left her, the memory plays like a reel behind my lids.

The first night I held her. She sobbed herself to sleep in my arms.

I should have let her go, as she demanded. Instead, I’d held her tighter.

I’m woken by a sharp scream. A knife of fear threatens to gut me as I realize it’s coming from her. This sound, like an animal begging for death. It’ll haunt me.

“Wake up, Blue.” My hands are on her face when she opens her eyes, tears streaming from them like a river of sorrow. If I stay here, I might drown. Only, with her, I welcome the end.

“It hurts.” There is a rattle of pain in her voice that scores into me. Marking me.

“What?”

“Make it stop.” She sobs. My eyes track her body for a wound.

“What hurts, love? Where?”

“My heart,” she whispers, burying her face into my chest. Tears wet the flesh, seeping through my skin to travel my bloodstream, weakening my own heart that thunders and rages for her. “It’s so sore.”

“I’ll make it better,” I vow. Though I don’t know how I’ll do it. I’m the cause of her pain, and as much as I want to make it all go away, I’ll never give her up. I’ll never let her go. Never. I will find a way. “I’ll make it better.”

She falls into sleep like she never woke at all, but it’s troubled. Every few minutes, she whimpers into my chest. Then she snuggles closer, seeking comfort from the monster who commands her pain.

I’ve never hated myself more than I do in this moment. Because I’m selfish. If I let her go, my heart will never beat again. Never feel. It’ll never want or yearn or rage again.

I’ll be a dead man walking. A wraith bound to this hellish place without the promise of salvation.

Without her.

My eyes snap open as we begin our descent.

As I step out of the car sometime later into the parking lot of the docks, I move with Misha at my side toward the line of docked yachts. I find the one I’m looking for, and board easily enough. The idiot has left the boarding gates down, probably expecting ass or hoping to send it packing when he’s finished.

Either way, I enter with Misha at my side, gun drawn. We encounter only one member of the staff, a middle-aged woman who holds her hands and blubbers about not wanting trouble. Misha confiscates her phone and sends her to her room, and she scurries that way fast, slipping into silence.

With the schematics of the yacht on my phone, I find Lev’s room easily enough. The title of idiot is confirmed again when I find the door unlocked.

And, yep, he’d left the boarding gates in place to send ass away when he’s finished, if his rutting into the black-haired screamer is anything to go by.

“Fucking hell,” Misha mutters.

I shoot a shot into the pillow beside the girl, watching feathers fly. Her screams of scripted pleasure turn into real fear. Lev falls on his ass, dick already flaccid. “The fuck! Do you know who I am?”

“I do.” I toss him a cool smile and see the moment recognition lands in his eyes. Fear follows close on its tail. My grin widens, but I say to Misha, “Sit with the girl until I’m done.”

I wait for the girl to grab her clothes with trembling hands before she follows Misha from the room. He won’t release her, not yet.

---