Page 34 of Inked Adonis

Then we round a corner. A black SUV idles along the curb, two huge men flanking the open back door.

Just like that, breathing is hard again.

One of the men takes Rufus’s leash, and I don’t know what it says about me thatthatis when I finally find my voice.

“No. You can’t…!”

But they can.

They do.

An extremely confused Rufus is loaded into the back of the car, and I’m lifted into the backseat. I watch Samuil’s hands buckle me in and tighten the strap.

Yesterday, his hands were on my skin—gentle and warm and incredible.

Now, they might as well be closing around my throat.

The door booms shut, and I don’t understand anything. Is this some kind of trafficking operation? Was yesterday my trial to see if I had what it takes? Are my kidneys worth a good amount on the black market?

My stomach roils and my lunch is threatening to make a reappearance.

Samuil slides into the seat next to me and punches the ceiling twice. The vehicle pulls away from the curb and merges into traffic.

Any hope of screaming for help evaporates. We’re alone in this rolling tomb, he has my phone, and my voice is playing possum somewhere in my chest.

Think, Nova. If this were a scary movie, what would you be yelling at the heroine to do?I try to see where we’re going, totrack the turns, but the windows are blacked out. It feels like we’re moving west, but that means exactly nothing to me.

Samuil finally turns to face me. His expression could freeze hell itself.

“How long have you been working for Katerina Alekseeva?”

12

NOVA

“Who?”

I heard him; I did. I just can’t believe this is who we’re talking about after he dragged me, mid-panic attack, through Lincoln Park.

“Katerina Alekseeva,” he repeats in a flawless Russian accent. Silver eyes pin me to the leather seat like a butterfly in a collection. “How long have you been working for her?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks, I guess? Since I started walking Rufus.”

“Don’t pretend this is about the dog.” Gone is the man who made me scream his name in my bathroom. In his place sits a stranger wearing an executioner’s eyes.

I tilt my head, channeling my inner confused puppy. “Have you been body-snatched? Is this some kind of alien invasion thing?” I twist around to look at Rufus, who’s giving me the same bewildered expression from the third row. “What else would this be about? I’m a dog-walker, Sam. I walk dogs.”

His nostrils flare. I clock the way his hand tightens on his knee, practically aching for violence. God knows I’ve seen that before—just not on him. “When did she approach you?”

I catalog every detail of him like I’m solving a puzzle that might save my life. I’m desperate for him to transform back into the charming man who didn’t mind when I ruined his suits, who laughed at my jokes and touched me like I was precious.

But from where I’m sitting now, that man was nothing but a beautiful lie.

“She didn’t approach me,” I say, measuring each word. “She was already in Hope’s client list, looking for personal assistance. Then I joined Hope’s team, and I started walking Rufus. Today was the first time I’ve even seen this woman. She’s an important client and?—”

“I’ll bet she is,” he mutters acidly.

“What the hell is going on?” I wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans, waiting for him to answer, to make sense, foranyof this to make some fucking sense.

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