Page 29 of City Of Thieves
“Welcome to Blighty, Renzo!” comes a familiar voice, but I have no interest in British pleasantries. “Killian, I need a ‘move and store’ from a service station on the M1, southbound.”
“Already?What are—?”
“And a replacement with untraceable plates,” I add, before ending the call.
“Who was that?” she asks. There’s no fire in her tone anymore. It’s more ofan automated response than a question, which is just as well because I don’t give answers, I demand them.
Pocketing my phone, I glance behind us at an interior that’s littered with fragments of broken glass. They’re coating the floor and spearing the expensive leather seats. Hell, one look at the blood smeared along the back of my hand tells me I’ll be picking shards out of my skin for days.
I freeze.
“Tatiana, look at me.”
When she lifts her eyes, I see vulnerability there for the first time.
It makes me want to protect her.
Makes me want to go fucking savage for her.
Something foreign lodges in my throat, and my hand darts out before I can stop it. “You’re bleeding,” I announce, touching a gash on the left side of her forehead. “Doesn’t look too bad, though.”
She brushes my hand away to inspect the cut herself. Slowly, she lowers her hand and stares in confusion at the beads of crimson coating her fingertips.
Shrugging out of my jacket, I reach behind me and tug my black T-shirt over my head.
“What are you doing?” She sounds shocked and a little scared.
“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” Taking a firm grip on the back of her neck, I press my T-shirt against her forehead. She flinches at first, but as I tighten my hold, her shoulders sag with fatigue. “Relax. A piece of glass hit you. Not life threatening, but…”
The moment disintegrates as my attention diverts to the floor. Next to her feet, the screen of her cell phone is flashing an unknown number.
“Who are you texting?”
“If you must know, it’s an old friend.”
Son of a bitch. That fucking sedan appeared right after her message.
Belov.
Dropping the T-shirt, I tighten my hold around the back of her neck before pulling out my gun and shoving the muzzle under her chin. As fuckable as those pouty lips look right now, if I’m being double crossed, I won’t hesitate to pull this trigger. “What are you hiding,dolcezza?” Before she can say a word, I add with a snarl, “And don’t lie to me.”
Chapter Eight
Tatiana
I’m usedto men holding me to ransom.
What’s less familiar is this wildfire that’s coursing through my veins. Adrenaline and indignation have overridden good sense, and all I’m seeing now is red.
“Don’t you dare point that thing at me.” I smack the muzzle away from my chin with a hiss. “You’re the criminal here.”
A beat later, the muzzle is back, pressing into my forehead this time. “I may be a criminal, but you’re the one with the secrets. If you touch my weapon again, this car interior gets redecorated, and the Good Senator gets a ticket to his estranged daughter’s funeral.”
“What secrets? You know everything about me already. You have your all-important ‘portfolio’, remember?”
“Turns out there were hidden clauses.” His dark eyes narrow. “Something turned you to ice five years ago, and I want to know all about it.”
I go very still.
