Page 30 of Sinful Promise

We both chuckle.

“I’m thinking I can ride her long and hard and send her back to him broken,” I say. “One million for her virginity. Who could complain about that?”

“I don’t know.” Alex shakes his head. “We’re getting involved in shit that stinks. We never checked her out with your brother. Maybe we should take her fingerprints when we get to the boat and find out who she is. She has no identification.”

“Good idea,” I agree, “but fingerprints will only come back with a name if she has a record. She doesn’t strike me as someone who would steal a hymnal, let alone guns.”

I pull meals out of the refrigerator and stare the containers. I have servants to cook for me.

“She was too scared and jumpy for her to be there voluntarily.” I pick up a sealed box of food. “She said as much herself. However, we’ll go on our vacation and see what happens. I mean, no one knows we were in Belarus. Dasha disappeared on their watch, and it isn’t our mess to clean up.”

I place the prepared dinners in the microwave. “Damn, does the cellophane stay on or come off?”

I’m a man with two left thumbs when it comes to the kitchen. Mom cooked and did housework until we hired a personal chef.

“Read the instructions. Too bad we don’t have someone to service us on this bird,” he grouses.

“Fewer eyes on us. That’s what I was thinking when I had you book this flight.”

I read the card with directions. It says to take the wrappers off the food and punch the number 5 on the machine before I push start.

“Right, well, I hope you didn’t cut staff on the yacht,” Alex replies sarcastically. For a man who grew up with nothing until my father took him under his command, he sure likes the entitlements he receives when he’s traveling with me. Premium liquor is one of those perks, and he knows where to find it. He opens the bottle of Zyr, a domestic vodka, and drinks straight from the bottle.

“Good stuff. God, I needed this,” Alex groans, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He puts the bottle down and selects a beef tenderloin dinner to heat up.

The microwave dings, and I pull my meals out with oven mitts. I’m an ace with a rifle, but give me burning food, and I’m nervous. I manage to get the meals on the special serving trays. I grab two bottled waters and return to the cabin, leaving Alex to fend for himself.

Dasha has returned to her chair, her hair in a long braid that drapes over her voluptuous boobs. Damn, I got her a tight blouse on purpose. Her hair is gorgeous, and with it tidied, it accentuates her long neck and high cheekbones. She doesn’t need an ounce of makeup to look beautiful, and she’s infinitely more appealing than the gourmet dinner in my hands. My mouth slackens as I take her in. Even when she sleeps and slightly snores, I find her adorable.

“A tray on the right side of your chair comes out.”

Dasha peers over the arm of her chair and flips the tray open. I set her food and drink on it and settle in the seat beside her.

“Not the best, but it will do,” I mumble as I open the bottle in my hand. “The food is scorching.”

She watches me drink water before she opens hers and gulps. She puts it down and ravishes the lobster ravioli purchased from a private restaurant.

“This is amazing. What is it?” she asks.

“Lobster and sauce.”

“Italian food, right?”

“Mostly, or American, I’m not sure.” I dig into my chicken parmesan and find it satisfying. I flip my wrist to look at my watch and check the time. It’s been a long-ass day, and it will be a long as fuck night.

Alex sits down with his dinner. I have to admit that his concerns are valid. I should have done more research before going after Ratmim. Instead, I reacted to the stolen gun shipment angrily, still fuming over Dad’s death and the fear that I’d let my brother down.

Damn. Alex is right. I let personal loss and worry make me act out of character, and that is a cause for concern. At least I have Alex with me. He’s like an all-star goalie, always there to cover me when I fuck up.

I blame myself for my father’s death, and it’s clouding my judgment. My actions certainly have nothing to do with the intoxicating woman beside me.

I eat my dinner. It’s been a long fifteen hours. The drive to the border was grueling, and I still haven’t learned much about my hostage.

Alex has every reason to be concerned with our situation.

I feel Dasha’s eyes on me and glance at her. She gives me a questioning look. Her eyes have turned a deeper green, but there are circles under them.

“If you’re tired, go have a nap on the bed. We have two more hours to go.”

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