Page 20 of Sinful Promise

There’s nobody here. What the fuck? Did we have the right information? I double-check my phone. This is the place, and there are cars in the parking lot. I scan the area. Seeing as I’m the only one here, I seize the opportunity to take pictures of the license plates on the parked cars.

Organ music floats by on a breeze. Fuck, I’ve missed the part where everyone arrives.

I move to the side of the church and stand in the shade of trees. I text Alex:I’m here and waiting.I intend to wait until the ceremony ends, then take pictures of the men when they leave. I love this part, hiding in wait while my target has no idea that I’m on to them.

My phone vibrates, and I glance at the text. Alex is on his way.

I’m watching the building for signs of our nemesis and in a bored stupor when a wooden side door flies open, and a woman bolts across the dark green lawn. She hikes the plain wedding dress to her knees, and I notice with a chuckle that she’s wearing sneakers.

My interest is piqued. Who is this woman, and what the fuck is going on?

Even in my surprised state, I take a picture of her. Her light brown hair is piled on her head, and she’s not in heels as I expected. I’m mesmerized. Is she the one getting married?

I move in her direction. This is one woman I have to meet. Who the fuck wears a dress without heels to their wedding?

9

DASHA

Idid it! I can’t believe it, but I did it! I was walking toward Papa when I spied a door to my right. While we were in the car, Katsia quietly reminded me that I’d pass a door to a room where religious studies are held. It has an access door to the outside, so now is the time for our plan.

I see the door and walk as if I’m on my way to my father. Katsia gives me a nod. She fakes a fall like she was tripped and fell on cue, creating a distraction. I rush through the door and find I’m alone in the room. I hiked up my dress and bolted out of the building.

This is my only chance to be free. I have no further plans. How many people will be near the church on a Saturday? Not many. Someone may give me a ride if I can get across the lawn and into the park.

I run as fast as I can and hope I don’t trip over a root or twist an ankle. I’m making great progress, but as I’m nearing the children’s playground, a hand grabs my wrist.

“Ahh,” I scream, my heart in my throat. Did Andrian put men around the perimeter of the church?

I look up to meet my warden’s eyes. They are cerulean blue, beautiful but cold and remote. His chiseled jaw and furrowed brow are unforgiving. He reminds me of one of those gargoyles perched atop a building, guarding what is theirs.

No, I don’t think he’s here to help me. So why has he stopped me?

“Where are you going?” he asks, speaking Russian. We speak the same language, but his accent is different.

“I’m on a walk,” I blurt out. What are the odds that he’s just a random dude hanging out alone in the woods between a church and a playground? Only pedophiles do shit like that.

His eyes dart from the church and back to me. I hear shouting. My freedom is in jeopardy and will be over at any minute.

Fuck. The clock is ticking.

“They’re after you,” he says with confidence. This realization pleases him as a smile flickers and fades like a shooting star.

I have a choice to make. Do I place my fate in the hands of a dashing stranger or relinquish it to my abusive father? It’s my life, my decision. I choose the stranger. I’d rather face an unknown future with an unknown man than return to what I left behind.

“I need to get out of here. Quickly,” I add, knowing my brother can run fast. Maybe he’ll be helpful today and develop a torn ligament.

“Fine. Follow me,” he says with a glint of mischief in his eye. Taking my hand in his, he leads me into the park and behind a pavilion. Nearly out of breath, we stumble into an alley filled with trash cans and the stench of rotting garbage.

“Where are we going?” I ask. “Where’s your car? How are we going to get away?” My voice reaches an unflattering pitch. I look up and down the street like a cartoon meme. What the hell is going on?

The stranger doesn’t seem fazed by our lack of a getaway car. He glances at his phone, puts it in his pocket, and flashes me a wicked smile that makes my stomach flutter.

“Oh, we’re getting away,” he says with confidence. I’m impressed by his calm demeanor and wish it were contagious. I’d love to be swimming in a sea of tranquility right about now.

“We can go anywhere, trust me,” he says with a wink.

I melt under his gaze. Is he flirting with me? I must be imagining it. I must be delusional. I blame it on the crazy circumstances. There is no way this hunk of a handsome man is interested in me. My hair is all over the place, I’m wearing no makeup, and I’m sweating like a whore in church.

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