Page 33 of Saint

Nadia’s cool, feline eyes met hers and she chuckled. “I only call him Nikolai,” she said, hesitating before adding, “It’s his earliest name, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“We met on the street when we were both kids. He told me his name was Nikolai Vasilevsky. If you want to know what happened to him before that, you’ll have to ask him.”

Hmm.She wondered what exactly that meant and filed it away for later.

“He called you an old friend. I assume you were more than just friends,” Mia added dryly, remembering the familiar way she’d kissed him on the mouth and how she’d said he could give Mia a night to remember.

The corner of her red lips lifted. “Very briefly, a long time ago. But we had different objectives and went our separate ways. Still, I’ll always have a fondness for him. It appears you do, too.”

“Me?” Mia blurted. “In case you didn’t know, he kidnapped me and handcuffed me to the bed. Twice!”

She arched a dark brow. “Did you take advantage of the situation?”

“What?”

“You should. He’s rough and hard, but a night with Nikolai is worth every bruise.”

“Okay, this isn’t what I wanted to ask you about.”

“You don’t want him to fuck you?” she asked candidly.

“I, no, I mean—that’s not really any of your business,” Mia stuttered. Had she thought about it? Yes. But she had no plans on telling Nadia anything about her secret desire for Nik.

Nadia smirked, as though reading her mind. “What do you want to know then?”

“How did Nik get involved with the Bratva and Petrov? And just how much danger is he in right now?”

Her face became serious, the smile withering away. “Going back to Petrov’s compound is very dangerous, but he knows it well. I have every faith he’ll return.”

But what if he doesn’t?a little voice asked. She suddenly felt sick. Nik had to return. Yes, she could call Pharaoh from the burner and they could get her out of Russia, but her concern was about more than just escaping.

At some point, maybe after she’d seen him break down in the ice cave tunnel, she started caring.About his safety,shequickly amended. Yes, he was darkly attractive. And, yes, she enjoyed his hot kisses. But Nik Valentine or Nikolai Vasilevksy or Saint or whatever his name was hardly screamed relationship material.

No, he shouted damaged goods, excess baggage and deep scars—emotional and physical. There were too many red flags to count. She should stay far, far away from him.

At least that’s what she kept telling herself. But the truth was, she was more than a little interested in getting to know the inked man better. Much, much better.

Obviously, the Russian winter had frozen the logical part of her brain. It was the only excuse she could think of for wanting to dive between the sheets with Nik and see just how warm he could make her.

???

With the window rolled down, Saint relished the ice-cold wind on his face, needing it to cool him off in more ways than one. Mia had pushed him until his temper had snapped and he’d been forced to cuff her to the bed. He knew she’d taken the key from his jacket, though. Little thief. Or, maybe more like Thief in Law, because that little kitten would fit right into the Vory prison subculture. She was fierce, fearless and determined. Completely defiant, yet inherently sweet. It was an oddly attractive combination he was beginning to like more and more.

Even though he’d been doing his best to deny it, his kitten was sinking her claws under his skin.

What the fuck? He had no idea what to do with a woman like Mia. When he’d lashed out and told her she wasn’t histype, he hadn’t been lying. He stayed far away from good girls. Normally, they gave him hives. It was much easier, and less problematic, to find a worldly, experienced woman who recognized and understood his type.

A woman like Mia was far too innocent. She would expect a relationship. Something he wasn’t capable of or interested in. And even if he was, he didn’t know the first thing about how to make her happy for longer than a night.

Forget her,a little voice said. He had bigger problems to worry about—The Agency, the Bratva and a deadly neurotoxin…could things get any worse?

Saint parked Nadia’s SUV on the tarmac near the Ex Nihilo jet. The engines were on and it looked like Hunter had just finished deicing the wings. She waved to him as he walked over, carrying a duffel bag of supplies.

“Your country is a damn icebox, Saint,” she complained. “Please tell me Moscow is a little warmer.”

He shook his head. “Not at this time of the year, Pyro, sorry.”

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