Page 32 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

But that also makes Kostin my hero, in a way. I can’t imagine what would have happened to my boys if Jerry had taken me to his house. I shudder at the thought of them having to go through life without a mother.

“So, if Jerry was a raving lunatic, why are you so worried - now that he’s dead?” I ask, looking up at Kostin.

He squints in the sunlight. “Who says I’m worried?”

“I do. You’re acting like you’re scared of something. Why are we on the run?”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “We’re not on the run, darling. We’re having a nice morning drive, that’s all.”

“You said that we were leaving.”

“We are.”

“Why?”

“I’m the boss, so I make the rules,” he says, squeezing my thigh again.

“That’s not a real answer,” I say, growing irritated at his games. “Why don’t you just tell me? Surely, it can’t be worse than the news about Jerry.”

“It is,” he grumbles. “Which is why you’re going to leave the serious business to me and stick to what you do best.”

“Which is?”

He looks at me, a grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “Making me feel good, darling.”

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