Page 13 of Ruinous Need
Markov’s talking through the plan when we arrive. He thinks we’re putting her in the cells, like Semyon ordered.
I shake my head. “Not there. I’ve made up the guest room.”
“What do you mean?” He shoots me a sideways glance before fixing his attention on the road again.
“We’re not putting her in the cells.”
“Viktor.” He gives me a hard look. This is the first time I’ve asked him to go against Semyon’s wishes. I know it’s a lot to ask. While I’m untouchable, Markov is not. “The Pakhan said the cell.”
“He can believe that if he wants. But we’re not putting this girl in a cell. She’s his fiancée, for fuck’s sake.”
That’s a convenient excuse for my uncharacteristic display of weakness. I file it away for later. The Pakhan wouldn’t have wanted us to disrespect his fiancée by throwing her in the cells, I can say if anyone asks questions about the living arrangements. I can sound outraged about it. Then he’s the one who looks like the bad guy.
Behind us in the car, Lisette’s blonde hair spread out in a fan on the backseat, her face relaxed. She seems even smaller here.
Pretty. Innocent. Obviously not a threat.
Markov pauses for a second, his eyes on the road. “I don’t like this.” I know he doesn’t mean only the disobedience.
“I know.”
We fall into silence for the rest of the drive, but it’s not a comfortable one.
The whole situation feels off.
The Irish have been on our case lately, and I don’t doubt they’re collecting intelligence about the Pakhan’s fiancée. But nothing about the timing makes sense.
They sent one of their best assassins, Alfred Jameson, the man with the scarred face, after her. Knowing that it would rile Semyon. Knowing that it wouldn’t be worth the cost.
Even if she’s engaged to Semyon, there are many more valuable targets for the Irish.
I’ve been assigned to protect Lisette, but from what I’m not sure.
CHAPTER 5
LISETTE
A DOG BARKS.
It’s chasing me through the suburban streets of my childhood while I pedal my bike, frantically, trying to stay ahead.
The sidewalk is covered with ice, but I’m not afraid of slipping. I have good balance and I can ride with no hands. What I am afraid of is the beast that is gaining ground behind me, so huge that it’s practically the size of my bike and me put together.
My legs burn. My lungs ache. I can’t go any faster.
“Go Lisette!”
“Look at those legs go.”
My parents are calling to me from the end of the street, but they don’t understand how scared I am. They think I’m having fun, racing the neighbor’s dog.
In my head, I’m fighting for my life.
The harsh barking gets louder until it’s right beside me and becomes a snuffling. That’s even worse because I can feel the dog’s teeth getting closer and closer to my leg.
I jam the brakes on too quickly and fall. My head plummets forward over the handlebars. The dog yelps once more. I can’t see it as I fall and hit the ground, but I can feel its hot breathcloser and closer to my face until…
I wipe away a trickle of moisture from my face, and my hand comes away covered in red. Thick, sticky blood coats my whole body.
