Page 56 of Take the Sub and Run

She remembered sitting on the bed with Colette. Her friend had asked questions, but Sofie had just shook her head, so Colette had started telling stories of some of her more daring and dangerous heists. Sofie had laughed watching Landon’s expression as Colette talked. Clearly he hadn’t heard some of the stories.

There was familiarity in Colette’s voice and the rhythm of her storytelling. That familiarity had led her to first recline on one elbow, and finally lie down on the bed.

She didn’t remember anything else until now.

Andrei was at her back, protecting her even as they slept.

No, that was wishful thinking. Her romanticism at work. Actually, it was quite problematic that he was in bed with her. He’d arrested her.

Sofie looked around, dread slowly working its way through her. Where was she?

She knew where she wasn’t. She wasn’t at home where she should be.

None of this would have happened if she’d done what she should have and stayed home.

“Breathe, Angel.”

His voice rumbled against her back, slow and sleepy.

Sofie hadn’t realized she was breathing fast and uneven until he said something. She forced herself to take several measured breaths before speaking.

“Where are we?”

“Back at Club Alibi.”

At that, she sat bolt upright.

Andrei grunted, flopping onto his back, one hand pressed to his midsection, eyes closed with a grimace.

Unlike the room they’d been in before, this one had only one glass wall—floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the river. The walls were painted a deep matte navy. The bed was massive, with a royal blue leather tufted headboard. Black leather wingback chairs flanked a round ottoman in one corner, while the other had a brass and glass bar cart. The only overtly sexual item in the room was what at first looked like a lounge chair, but it was too tall. Instead, it looked like a narrow version of the adjustable exam table found in doctors' offices, positioned with the back up and feet down so it looked like a chair.

She saw herself there, in the chair, waiting to be examined. Played with.

Sofie jerked her attention away as she scooted away from Andrei. Back against the headboard, she wrapped her arms around her knees, making sure to bring the blanket with her.

Andrei was still lying on his back, grimacing.

Sofie pursed her lips as she studied him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You elbowed me in the stomach.”

Sofie shook her head. “You’re fine.”

Andrei opened one eye. “I can’t decide if it’s better or worse that you’re accidentally violent.”

“I’m not violent.”

“My tongue and stomach both beg to differ.” Andrei sat up and scooted back to sit with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out. Sofie shifted so she was facing him.

“You arrested me.”

He studied her, and the seriousness of his expression was unfamiliar. For the first time, she could see him as an Interpol agent—cold, calm, implacable. “You were attacked in your own home, and first tried to escape by jumping out the window, but then refused to leave.”

“Are you saying you arrested me to protect me?”

He shrugged, looking almost uncomfortable. “I’m saying that your story doesn’t add up, Sofie Vermeer.”

Hearing him say her full name made her jump.

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