Page 47 of Savage Hearts
He stops. Holding a cup of coffee in each hand, he peers at me suspiciously. “Why such a hurry?”
“We need to go. Now.”
I brush past him, walking fast, not looking back. Within seconds, Spider’s right by my side.
Like I knew he would be. “What is it, lass?” he demands.
“I’ll tell you in the car.”
I burst through the front door of the bookstore and make abeeline for the SUV, clutching my laptop to my chest like a shield. Following on my heels, Spider tosses the coffee cups to the sidewalk and jogs ahead of me, opening my door. I hop in, he slams the door behind me, then runs around to get into the driver’s seat.
We pull out of the parking lot, tires squealing.
As we’re taking a corner at warp speed, Spider commands, “Talk to me.”
“A man followed me into the bookstore. The same man who followed me into the ladies’ room at the restaurant the other night. He’s here to kill Declan.”
Spider takes all that in stride. He simply drives faster, glancing into the rearview mirror. It isn’t until I add, “He’s Russian. His name is Malek,” that he almost drives off the road and up onto the curb.
Narrowly missing driving head-on into a streetlight, he shouts, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!Malek?”
I take it they’re acquainted.
“Bloody hell, Riley! Did he hurt you?”
“No. Please tell me you’re not going to turn around and try to kill him.”
“As if I could! The bastard’s a bloody ghost! He’d have my head on a spike before I knew what hit me!” He stops hollering and looks at me. “Why don’t you want me to kill him?”
A very good question, indeed.I rack my brain for a reasonable answer.
“I don’t want to be around when anybody kills anybody else, okay?”
It must have sounded sensible enough, because Spider turns his attention back to the road. Tense and glowering, he snaps, “Tell me everything he said to you. At the restaurant and just now. Don’t leave out a word. It’s important.”
I do my best to tell him everything I remember. When I’m finished, he’s horrified.
“Christ.He came into the house?”
“Yes.”
“He could’ve killed you, lass. He could’ve strangled you in your sleep!”
I say drily, “Thanks for that. But he didn’t hurt me. And I believed him when he said he wouldn’t.”
“That’s daft!”
His outrage makes me feel defensive. “Daft or not, he was actually quite sweet.”
Spider almost drives off the road again. He thunders, “Sweet?The man’s a bloody assassin! He’s the most ruthless bastard there is!”
I decide this isn’t the time to point out that he’s sweet, too, and he also has murder in his job description. “So you’ve met him before?”
Raking a hand through his hair, Spider huffs in frustration. “No one’s met him before. He’s like the bogeyman: a nightmare who exists solely by reputation. He’s the right hand of the Moscow Bratva king, and the main reason the man rose to power. Malek’s extremely talented at removing obstacles.”
And by obstacles, he means enemies.
The man who tried to rescue me from a life of prostitution and gently cupped my face in his hand like it was made of porcelain is a Russian assassin of such terrifying reputation, he makes “regular” killers like Spider quake in their boots.
