Page 8 of Deceitful Promises

“Who said I want to sleep?” I counter.

The more he smirks, the more I like it, even as I keep reminding myself this is the last thing I should be thinking. “You don’t have to say. Your eyes have been closing and opening for the past hour. Don’t worry. I’ll watch over you.”

Again, a sarcastic retort tries to word-vomit out of my mouth, but I can’t bring myself to say it after that oddly tender moment. Instead, I cradle the small piece of wood and lie back against the blankets. When I wake up, anything could happen. I could be in a cell. Do I really believe he’s done all this to take me to my mom?

He hasn’t hurt me yet. When he thought he might have, he seemed so sickened with himself. Maybe I’m way more naive than I like to believe, but I think he’s a good person. Have I got Stockholm syndrome already?

As sleep takes me, I remember something Dimitri said once.“You’re a good person, Ania. Kind. Empathetic. The world will take advantage of that if you let it.”Then he paused, and he got that Bratva-boss look in his eyes.“But if that ever happens, I’ll tear the world to pieces to make it right.”

Dimitri is happy now. He’s found his woman. He’s looking forward to the future, but that doesn’t mean he’s turned soft. I know he’s still capable of doing what needs to be done.

Finally, everything becomes too heavy. The events of the past couple of weeks—the secrets, the fear, the threat of a Bratva war—drift away, and I’m left just with the feel of the wooden ballerina in my hand. She feels so small and vulnerable, like one wrong move could shatter her into a thousand tiny pieces.

CHAPTER 5

AIDEN

Itry not to watch her sleep, but it isn’t easy. She’s rolled into a tight ball as though trying to protect herself, but that’s what I’m here for. Fuck, I need tochill. When that wooden ballerina softly bounced off her head, I felt like I’d slapped her.

“Who is she, brother?”

I look up to find Logan standing over me, leaning against the wall, wearing his military fatigues. He’s got a slight smile on his face, but it’s almost wary—how people tend to get around me. It’s something I spent timedevelopingwhen I was younger—driving people to be scared of me and want nothing to do with me. Yet I’ve known Logan for almost a decade. I’ve helped him with some non-military stuff, and he still seems slightly uncomfortable.

Is that what I am? A wolf always ready to hurt someone? Is that what I’ll always be?

“You don’t have to tell me,” Logan goes on.

I stand up, dragging my gaze away from her. She looks too damn small. Too damn young. It hurts me how badly I want her. A delicate person like Ania isn’t made for my calloused killer’s hands. Moving closer to Logan, I lower my voice and say, “She’s my stepmother’s daughter.”

“Ah,” Logan says, waiting for me to go on.

That’s one thing I like about him so much. He doesn’t push. Too many people think they’ve got a lot to say when, in reality, keeping their mouths shut would be the best option.

“You ever heard of the Sokolovs?”

He shakes his head.

“They’re Bratva, like a mafia, but for the Russians. On the West Coast, they’re relatively big. My stepmother was a …” Prostitute, but he doesn’t need to know that. “… in a bad place once, and she fell for the leader, Konstantin. He used her, beat her, and stole her daughter. He scared her so badly that she never dared try to find her until his death. Now, I’m taking her home.”

“You’re not worried about these mafia guys following you?” Logan asks with a wry smile.

“Hmm,” I say, and he laughs grimly.

That’s a damn stupid question, and we both know it. “I hope they do,” I go on. “I hope they gather all their troops and come at me with everything they’ve got.”

“That would be a bloodbath. Difficult to cover up, Aiden.”

“That’s life. What else am I going to do?”

Logan frowns. He’s got a family and kids. He’s got a reasonnotto want a gunfight to break out every couple of hours. All I’ve gotis this ember inside of me that is constantly waiting to become a flame, continually begging to explode, like it wants me to turn full fucking berserk.

“Relax, brother,” Logan says.

“Hmm.”

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? A possible fight? You’ve got that look in your eye, man.”

“What look?”

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