Page 13 of The Russian Retribution

Erik, sitting in the driver’s seat, glances over at me with one brow raised and several fries on their way to his mouth. “You know about that?”

“It was in your file.”

“You have a file on me?”

“I have a file on everyone. Is that a problem?”

“No. Makes sense. I just didn’t think I was important enough to have a file on.”

“You’re now my only security, never mind that you’re my security adviser. You don’t see that as important?”

“After what you did to those generals, I don’t view titles as anything more than a badge to determine your paycheck.”

Something about the flat way he says it brings an unexpected snort of laughter from my chest. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend we’re just two friends huddled in a car on the edge of an incline overlooking the city, stuffing our faces with takeout before we return to our dull, mundane jobs. In a world of assassination attempts, distrust, and my efforts to dismantle myfather’s human trafficking circuit while trying to build my own sustainable businesses, normality is oddly welcome.

“Point taken,” I reply, taking another bite. “But tell me, why didn’t you see it through?”

Erik swallows and adjusts his grip on his burger. “Honestly? After my parents died, I joined the military because I didn’t see any other options. I lost my sister and I was alone, so the military seemed like the place where I could find family. Problem was, I have an issue with authority.”

“Me included?” I narrow my eyes. “Should I be concerned?”

“Depends. Will you yell in my face and wake me at three in the morning with a bucket of ice water?”

“I have no plans to.”

“Then we’re good.”

“Didn’t say I wouldn’t, though.” I smirk easily, and Erik laughs around his burger.

“So there’s a slim chance. Got it.” He bites and chews heartily, then shrugs. “They kicked me out, and I found my way into this life. It was the family bond I wanted without the militaristic rules. I like driving, so being a driver for those jobs and stuff just made sense.”

“Now you’re here. Eating a cheeseburger with the boss.”

“Exactly.” Erik finishes his burger in two bites. “How the world changes.”

Every time he looks at me, I feel seen. It’s a strange sensation, and deep down, I know that it’s merely my reaction to being rescued, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I exist as aperson more than a name. In time, this feeling will fade and the strange pull I feel toward this man will be nothing more than a memory. But it’s a good feeling right now.

No one has ever taken me for a cheeseburger before.

“I’m sorry you lost your sister.”

Erik pauses his fries and a strange look passes over his face. He looks like he’s wrestling the lid down on some old pain. After a few seconds, he looks at me intently. “Sorry about your dad.”

We stare at each other in silence for a few long seconds. I take him in, truly take in the chiseled beauty of his face and the handsome structure that softens each time he looks me in the eye.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “Would you believe that no one has said that before?”

“No way.” His brow shoots up. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” I tear my gaze away, unable to look for too long in case the urges inside me deepen. “People express their shock, their disappointment. They ask me if I know who did it. How the family is. No one said sorry. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I hated my father. But he was still my dad.”

“I didn’t know you hated him,” Erik replies softly. “Why?”

That’s a can of worms I have no intention of opening, no matter how comfortable the air in the car is. I know my limits and my father is one of them. “Too long of a story.” I brush him off and return to my fries. “So, tell me, you used to drive for the family?”

The next hour passes with Erik filling me in on crazy, exciting stories of robberies, heists, and other events for which he wasthe driver. His skills speak for themselves, as he was able to save me from those kidnappers. Hearing how well-ingrained he is with people lower down the ladder is rather heartwarming. I learned quickly that none of the grunts under me will ever become anything more than soldiers. They look at me as the Boss, and that will never change.

Erik eventually drives us back home when night falls and sneaks us in the same way he snuck us out—by using the back garage. The food sits warm and comfortable in my stomach, and being able to do something like a normal person is an unexpected breath of fresh air. He takes me up to my room and says goodnight, promising to sneak me out again the next time I need breathing room.

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