Page 89 of Cruel Knots

I groan at the first bite of the syrup-soaked pancake. It’s been a long time since I ate something that tasted so, so good.

“Like it?” Lilja asks, adding another pancake to my plate.

“Yeah. It’s so good. You’re a wonderful cook, Dora.”

An amused grin comes onto the elderly woman’s face. “It’s just pancakes, sweetheart.”

“I know but my brother rarely allowed me to eat them at home. If he wasn’t happy with me, he wouldn’t even allow me to have them on my birthdays.”

The table falls silent at my confession.

“Your brother didn’t let you eat pancakes?” Lilja asks, staring at me with a strange look on her face. “Why?”

I shrug. “He liked me eating healthy stuff. Bacon wasn’t allowed at all.” With that, I grab a few strips and put them on my plate. “Callum controlled my diet strictly.”

“Not any-fucking-more!” Mikhail growls, banging the table, startling everyone. Getting to his feet, he comes over to me and starts loading my plate with more pancakes and bacon.

“Stop!” I cry out, grabbing onto his arm. “I can’t eat all this food.”

He halts and stares down at me. A storm rages behind those gray eyes. “Eat,” he says, stalking back to his seat.

He fumes silently while I gobble the delicious food. The coffee Dora pours me is heavenly too. Or maybe I’m just ravenous after facing death over and over since last night.

“We’re going,” Mikhail announces as soon as my plate is clean.

“What’re you talking about?” I ask.

“You can’t keep walking around here with no pants on,” he growls. “I’m taking you shopping.”

“She’s not wearing any underwear either,” Lilja supplies helpfully.

Mikhail’s eyes widen comically. “That’s it,” he says, coming over to stand beside me. Grabbing my wrist, he pulls me to my feet. “We’re leaving now.”

“What will Damien say?” Lilja shouts after us as Mikhail drags me out of the kitchen.

“Just keep your mouth shut about it!” he hollers over his shoulder.

26

Lucia

The vast underground garage is lined with an impressive collection of motorcycles. Even though my knowledge of them is nil, a glimpse of the powerful engines and cylinders is enough to tell me they’re high-caliber machines.

Rows of cars crowd the area but my gaze is firmly attracted to the bikes.

Mikhail rummages inside a tall vat that oddly looks like a suburban garbage bin. I should be terrified of him after the way he treated me a few days ago but something feels different now.

Knowing the truth behind his identity has changed everything. While I’m still wary about his penchant for vengeance, I can’t help my attraction. Just like Damien and Leon, I want to know him better.

Mikhail straightens after a while and comes toward me.

“Try this on,” he says, handing me a pair of jeans.

Large maroon splatters stain the crumpled trousers. “Is this blood?” I ask with a hint of hesitation.

“Might be,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “This is the smallest one I could find in there. It’s only for a short time until we find something better on the road.”

“Whose clothes do you keep in there?” I ask curiously.

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