Page 43 of Scarlet Secrets

Alina flinches next to me at my bark, but right now, I’m concerned at the lack of security at my compound.

Erin’s not trained. I don’t even think she has anything to do with this. Not really, but the fact she’s not there…

“Walk me through this again, Vitor.”

“Sir, the door of her room was open. Magda discovered it. She’d brought her soup and some water earlier?—”

“If you’re trying to tell me Magda fucked up, I’ll explain in exact detail with my fists just how wrong that is and how much I don’t appreciate cowards. Magda doesn’t make those mistakes. She would have locked the door. And even if she didn’t, you’re telling me one female evaded a host of armed, trained men?” I grip the phone tight as he swears in Russian.

Then he says, “We’re searching a second time, all the rooms and the grounds, but the adjacent property? Mikel thought he saw something, but it was on the street, so…”

Pissed isn’t the word for the thrumming emotion rushing through me. I’m volcanic, about to erupt. The only thing keeping me grounded here is Alina.

She’s a ball of misery, curled in on herself, and her pain hurts me. Worse than I ever thought it could because there isn’t a fucking thing I can do. Even if I kill them all, every last person involved in her kidnapping, in Max’s murder, it won’t ease the pain in her. It won’t make up for her loss.

I suck in a breath. “He thinks he saw something? Thinks? That place is meant to be a first warning lookout.” I switch to Russian. I’m so angry. “What’s the fucking point in having a security team if they can’t secure the damn premises?”

“They were looking for invaders, not someone escaping.”

“That doesn’t make it better, Vitor. Heads are going to roll. If this Erin could get out so easily, that means anyone can get in, which is fucking unacceptable. There’s a reason we keep the properties surrounding us in the back. They’re there to help keep people out, too. So they’re either not kept up and unmanned or the entire team is useless.”

“Sir—”

“I’ll deal with you later. Right now, I need to find this fucking Erin.” I hang up on him.

Next to me, Alina stirs and looks at me blankly, eyes swollen, tears leaking, and she’s dazed like she got hit by a Mack truck and hasn’t realized she should be down, not walking around.

No. She looks like the survivor of a bombing.

Or someone who just lost the love of her life.

Fuck.

“Who’s Erin?” she asks, voice slurred, flat, lost. It’s the shock. I take her hand and it’s ice. “What’s going on?”

I unclip my belt and slide over to her, putting an arm around her to try and warm her. “Someone who got mixed up in the attack at the wedding. She was with you.”

“I don’t… don’t remember anything. Just…”

“Shh, it’s okay, she is—was a friend of Max’s.”

Alina lets out a moan of pain, and I mentally kick myself.

This fucking vehicle doesn’t have a minibar, or I’d have her halfway to oblivion.

I lean forward, looking in the rear window from the back as Ilya drives. Our little convoy seems fine and part of me wishes for an attack, just to get this shit over and done with. Give me something to do, someone to punish.

But most of all, I wish I could take Alina’s pain from her. I’d carry it gladly, but that’s the one thing I can’t do. She has to suffer, and I fucking hate that.

When we get home, I ignore everyone else. “I’m going to take you to your room, and Ilya’s going to bring you some cognac. The stuff you like.”

She doesn’t answer me, just pushes her face into her hands.

I gather her in my arms and carry her in and up to the second floor. I go into her room and call in Magda to help her change. Then I wait outside. But when Magda comes out, she shakes her head.

“Alina will not take off the dress,” she says in Russian. “Go be with her.”

Ilya arrives and hands me a glass and a bottle. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

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