Page 21 of Dragon Bodyguard
She almost slipped in the mud on the incline to the ditch, but managed to save herself in the last second, leaping over it again. Her attackers had been rounded up by the side of the road, looking mostly annoyed at the inconvenience. She didn’t know any of Dmitri’s security that had shown up to… secure the attackers, but they knew her as they all lowered their heads in a nod at her.
She found it a little odd to be shown respect like that, since she hadn’t been shown it her whole century-long existence, but she took it for what it was and told herself not to nod back. It wasn’t how it was done.
She stopped in front of the largest and burliest of the attackers, attempting to draw herself up into something at least resembling an authoritative figure. She knew she was failing by the crooked smirk that appeared on the man’s mouth.
“Who sent you?” she demanded.
The smirk turned even more crooked, the man shaking his head.
The sound of sirens reached them as Misha joined her. She didn’t want to look at him, so, of course, she turned her head to him, gaze on his. Could he please make the asshole talk? He gave a short shake of his head. No, he wouldn’t. Not here, in broad daylight, on a trafficked road. But in the backroom, wherever room was designated as the backroom at the mansion, he would use his fists and whatever weapons he required to make the man squeal like a stuck pig.
The thought made a thrill run through her.
But, of course, that wasn’t going to happen. At least not anytime soon as the man was about to be arrested and sent to prison, out of their clutches. Too bad they had attacked where there was CCTV. It made it impossible to keep it within the family.
She should have felt surprised at her own bloodlust but wasn’t. If she could have had a knife and a dark room, she would’ve hurt the bastard herself, just to get that name. Who the hell was stupid enough to attack her father like this?
“Why me?” she asked, eyes back on the large and burley man.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he replied, and she drew her leg back, kicking him in the shin so hard it actually made him wince.
“My heart isn’t that sweet,” she said, giving him a final glare before walking up to the gleaming Bentley that had just pulled up to the side of the road, opening the passenger seat door and climbing in, slamming the door behind her.
Chapter 7 - Misha
He watched her slam the car door shut with a hard tug. He hadn’t expected her to go so willingly into a confrontation. She had changed, that much was for certain, but she had also let him hold her. And she had confessed that she’d missed him. He didn’t want to acknowledge the slow-moving happiness that her words had stirred in him. It was the last thing he needed. Getting stuck back in promised a world of pain once that happiness faded. Once she packed up and left the house, no matter what longing still existed between them. This was a pull towards closure, nothing more.
He looked over at Kai, who was part of the highest level of his security team, and Kai gave a nod that he’d stay and speak with the police. Good.
It seemed Kristina had forgotten all about giving a statement. She was more rattled than he’d first realized.
He didn’t want to comfort her. He just wanted to get her back to safety. Because it was his job.
He drew a slow breath, sighed it out, and headed for the passenger side door. Sliding into the seat, he caught the stone-faced expression of the driver. His name was Igor. He’d been close friends with Oliver.
“Hey,” Misha said.
“Hey,” Igor murmured.
Misha slapped a hand against Igor’s chest, a sign of encouragement. Igor wouldn’t be working if he hadn’t felt up to it. Making a show of his loss wasn’t going to help, and so that greeting and slap was all Misha offered. They all knew how to pick themselves up and keep going. It was necessary in their line of work.
Misha turned around in his seat, eyes on Kristina’s.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Just get me out of here,” she murmured, but this time her gaze lingered on his for another moment before she turned to look out her window.
Misha gave Igor a nod and the Bentley started moving, leaving the scene of the crime behind and bringing all its implications with them.
Who would be stupid enough to attack the Kuznetsov syndicate in this way? An attack on one was an attack on all and whoever had done it must have a very strong motive. Or must be borderline insane. Or possibly both. The last time the family had been attacked it had been a coordinated effort from people on the inside, members of staff who had been dazzled by the promise of higher pay and more freedoms. It had been led by an outsider, sure, but to dare such an attack to the very firmament of the Kuznetsov family, it had taken strong backing from those who were meant to come to that family’s aid. The ones serving to protect them.
This attack on an unarmoured vehicle in the middle of broad daylight was something else entirely. He hadn’t recognized a single face of the would-be kidnappers. This was also unusual, since draconian hitmen were notoriously difficult to kill and ran in a tightly knit circle. Those that were the most successful at their chosen profession were well-known by the entire community. Especially since those in the community who needed protection from potential assassinations were also the ones most prone to order hits on others.
It was a bizarre thing that these hitmen must have been hired from some subset. They weren’t well-known enough to be on the map, and yet whoever had hired them had trusted them to get the job done. Or had the job been meant to get botched? Was the threat enough to warrant action? Was this to do with some shady deal Ilya was trying to strike? Was it a negotiation tactic to cow him into submission?
Safe to say the only one who might shed some light on the situation was Ilya himself.
“Music?” Misha asked, not bothering to turn around.
