Page 25 of Sheltering Hollis

“Then, as I’ve said,” I kept my voice even. “I’m going to kill him, and you can watch if you’d like.” Her chin lifted.

“I still want to.”

Good girl. If I thought it’d traumatize her further, then I wouldn’t go through it, but perhaps it would provide her some closure, knowing for sure that Gregor was dead and gone.

“Before I do, though, he’ll tell us where to find the clinic so we can pay a little visit.” Finishing my coffee, I pushed a pastry towards her. “Eat that.”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” she said, pushing the plate away. I frowned at her, concerned that she hadn’t eaten enough for the past few days. It seemed like she had been having financial difficulties at home for a while, too. “Do you think he will?”

“He will, malysh. They always do,” I assured her. Her eyes were soft as she looked at me, that hazel green almost bright today.

“Then we’ll go home?”

“Yes, then we’ll go home.” I didn’t want to over-promise, but I was pretty confident we could fly out of Colombia tonight if things went as planned. Three men to kill, and we could get out of this cesspit.

She squeezed my hand, a silent understanding passing between us. “The weather does suck.” She winked, understanding me perfectly. Killing someone, no problem. But the humidity, no — that was killing me slowly. The worst torture ever.

FIFTEEN

Hollis

I stood before the full-length mirror, the weight of the gold dress reassuring against my skin. The delicate fabric clung to my frame, its shimmer catching the dim light of the bedroom and reflecting it with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill in my heart. I had chosen this dress for its beauty, but as I adjusted the thin straps and smoothed the hem, I realized it did more than make me look beautiful; it fortified me. The gown was my armor, a declaration of strength in a time of uncertainty.

I stared in the mirror for a few more minutes, my hands clenched, and told myself. “You are strong. You are fierce. You are worthy. You can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, I studied my reflection, searching for the woman who could face Makarovich with unwavering confidence and coax the information from him that would lead us to Gregor and the doctor. The woman in the mirror stared back at me with steely eyes, lips painted a bold red, and a resolve I had almost forgotten I possessed. The woman in the mirror was who I wanted to be. I straightened my shoulders, allowing myself a small, victorious smile. Dimitri would be with me. I was okay. The small pebble in my shoe didn’t feel so sharp today; the edges still hurt, but today had smoothed them.

The soft click of the bedroom door opening drew my attention. Dimitri stepped inside, his eyes widening slightly as he took me in. For a moment, I saw something unguarded in his expression, a flicker of desire that he quickly masked with his usual stoic demeanor. But the look lingered in his eyes, and I felt a warm flush rise to my cheeks.

"You look..." he began, his voice softer than I'd ever heard.

"Different?" I finished for him, one eyebrow arching playfully.

"Stunning," he said, taking a step closer. "Powerful. Like trouble,” he said with all seriousness.

My heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice. The undeniable and thrilling attraction flared up. These past days, his actions showed me that I could trust him and that he would care for me.

"Thank you," I said, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. I needed this.” I lifted the fabric of the dress self-consciously. “This dress, I mean,” I dropped my eyes from his awkwardly, feeling the smooth fabric slide against my skin. “It makes me remember who I am.” I lifted my eyes back. “Who I can be.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "We're going to get what we need from Makarovich. Together."

Together. The word resonated with me: a promise of partnership that went beyond our shared goal. A shiver went through me, goosebumps rising over my skin. Too much had happened; I knew too much to falter now.

“Can you hold me for a minute?” I asked awkwardly. I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d had a grownup hug me. Certainly, I’d gotten them from Olive, but that wasn’t the same. Maybe I would feel even stronger if I borrowed some of his strength. He stepped forward so fast that he almost caught himself on the hem of my dress.

“Fuck yeah, I can. I’ll hold you as long as you’ll let me,” he growled, gathering me into his body axs if I were made of cotton candy, soft and delicate, made of candy floss threads. Pink was cherry blossoms, lip gloss, and strawberry kisses.

My breath came in a rush, my heart beating faster. “I won’t break Dima. Hold me tight, like you won’t let go.” His arms tightened on command, but not so hard that he crushed my dress.

His hands brushed against my cheeks, tracing the bones of my jaw and the edges of my lips. Keeping my eyes on his, I tried to communicate that I wanted him to lean down and press his lips to mine. My tongue darted out to wet them nervously, and he groaned low in his throat.

“Do I have permission, malysh?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” I whispered as his lips descended on mine finally.

Dimitri acted as if I were a dessert, and he was starving for a taste. He nibbled the edges of my mouth and dove in, stroking the back of my neck and shoulders the whole time. Then he would start again, leaving me wanting more. He kissed as if we were at the end of the world or on the precipice of a new one.

“Dima …” I struggled to find the words to explain what I wanted.

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