Page 24 of The Bratva's Hunted Bride
Five minutes later, we’re in the car and I’m strapped. She rolls the window down and sticks her hand out, a smaller version of that smile playing across her face. “I can’t believe we actually left.”
I grunt. “It’s a short excursion.” But I’m still keeping my eyes glued to the mirrors, checking for anyone suspicious. One hint of trouble and the whole plan is scrapped.
She tunes the radio, and I fly down the backroads. We reach the shack of a garden store twenty minutes later, gravel kicking up as I pull in. Talia hops out before I can give the area a proper scan, making a beeline straight for a row of bubblegum pink flowers.
“Talia,” I say, reaching for her hand. The woman at the counter greets us, and Talia brushes me off to chat with her about the best options for our place.
It’s all so… domestic. Picking flowers for the yard as if we have any intention of staying there long-term. Like it’s a home, not a hideout. Still, Talia looks so pleased with her arms full of flowers that I keep my mouth shut. She hands them off to me, and I load them into the car while she goes back for more. By the time she’s done shopping, the entire trunk is full, and I have to wedge some into the backseat.
“They’re going to look perfect out there,” Talia says, turning toward me with a beaming smile. A few more cars pull up as we’re climbing into the car, windows too tinted for me to see through, and a knot of tension twists itself into place between my shoulders.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, opening her door for her. Her face falls at my terse tone, but she does as I say.
I watch the other cars as well pull out, one hand resting on the butt of my pistol. A perfectly normal-looking couple steps out of the first. Talia glances at me.
“What is it? They’re just customers, Timofey. Unless you’re telling me that lady is part of the mafia? Come on. She looks like a schoolteacher.”
She has a point, but it doesn’t mean anything. “You can’t judge someone’s threat level based on appearance alone. Maybe she could shoot a pea off a fencepost at six hundred yards.”
Talia laughs and shakes her head at me like I’m crazy. Then she reaches across and puts her hand on my shoulder, and my whole body goes still, focusing in on that point of contact between us. “You need therapy. Lighten up, this is the best day I’ve had in a long time.”
“And it’s with me?” I smirk at her.
She rolls her eyes and sets her hands in her lap. “You just happened to be along for the ride.”
We drive back, and I keep an eye on the mirror, but there’s no sign of anyone following us. Maybe Talia’s right and I’m jumping at shadows. I help her unload, and we spend the rest of the day digging up the weeds and replanting.
She sits back, dirt smudges on her cheeks, and her shirt is damp with sweat. “It’s actually starting to look kind of cute out here, isn’t it? For a prepper house.”
“Ha ha,” I say. “It’s getting late. I’ll finish up out here. Why don’t you grab the first shower?”
“A real gentleman,” she says. “I’ll try to leave you some hot water.”
I clean up the empty trays, then head inside. True to her word, Talia takes a short shower and darts from the bathroom to the bedroom wrapped in a towel. I know she’ll come out wearing one of my shirts again.
The water feels good after a day spent sweating in the yard, and I soak until the water turns cold. A blast of cold water at the end is just what I need to chase thoughts of Talia’s body in this shower just minutes ago.
She’s waiting for me in the living room, hair damp and loose down her back. Some nights, she goes straight to the bedroom and stays there to avoid me. Others, we’ll play a few rounds of cards until it inevitably devolves into an argument. Tonight, she surprises me with something new.
“How about a game of truth or dare?” she asks, tucking her feet up underneath her.
I eye her warily. “Is this just a way for you to get secrets out of me?”
She’s always digging for more information, and I don’t blame her, but I also don’t want to lie to her, which means a lot of silence on my part and frustration on hers.
“It’ll go both ways,” she promises, patting the cushion next to her. “I won’t ask for anything that I wouldn’t be willing to tell. So if I want something really juicy out of you, I’d have to give up something equally juicy. Fair?”
I sink down onto the couch beside her, angling my body to face her. “Some topics are off limits,” I reply, getting out ahead of her. “I won’t reveal anything that could put my family in danger, and I won’t answer your question about why I took you.”
She blows out a breath. “Fine, fine. Any rules you want to make regarding the dare portion of the night?”
I meet her eyes and flash a grin. “Nope.”
There’s a flicker of hesitancy in her eyes that’s gone in a flash. “Perfect. You can go first. Truth or dare?”
Unfortunately, I don’t think Talia’s dares would be the sort proposed at a high school party, leading to fumbling kisses in a closet, so I go for the other option.
“Truth,” I say, well aware of how absurd it is that I, a thirty-five-year-old man, am playing truth or dare. If I didn’t think it’d lead to uncovering more about Talia, I’d have flat-out refused. This is just too good an opportunity to pass up.
