Page 35 of Blood & Snow
"Tell her you got a promotion, that you're management now."
I open the door to the car, and she reluctantly slides in.
I won’t let her take the train with these packages. I
'm not a fool.
Some other man would come along and taint the meal I'm preparing.
So I have my driver take her all the way home.
The drive back across Moscow gives me time to appreciate her profile while she stares out the window at passing buildings.
The new clothes will change how others perceive her, but more importantly, they'll change how she perceives herself.
Confidence comes with appropriate presentation, and confidence makes women more attractive.
Ten minutes from her apartment, I notice the black sedan that has been following us for the past several blocks.
They're following us, maintaining proper distance while staying close enough to track our movements.
It's probably not good news, and I hate that Nadya is in the car with me, but we have no choice but to lose them.
"We have a tail," I tell my driver through the intercom, then in the few seconds that follow, I manage to pull Nadya against my body snugly to brace for any sudden shift of speed or trajectory.
She gasps as the sedan accelerates suddenly, ramming into the vehicle following us with enough force to spin it sideways across two lanes of traffic.
Metal screams against metal as both cars slide toward the guardrail, sparks flying from the impact points.
Nadya clings to me instinctively, fingers digging into my jacket as she presses against my side.
Fear radiates from her body, but she has to trust me enough to know I’m safe to cling to.
So I hold her more tightly as the driver floors it to try to slip away.
"Are you hurt?" I ask, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.
"No," she whispers against my chest.
"What was that about?"
"Business competitors expressing dissatisfaction with recent developments."
I hold her closer, feeling her heart racing under my touch.
"Nothing that concerns you directly."
But it does concern her, whether she realizes it or not.
The Brotherhood knows about her existence now, knows she's connected to my operations.
Taking her shopping in public, buying her expensive clothes, holding her close during moments of danger—all of it sends messages about her importance to my organization.
Messages that make her a target.
"Get us out of here," I snap, and the car darts in and out of traffic, making us bump and sway together in the back seat.
Nadya continues to tremble in my arms and suddenly, I'm not looking at her like my cleaner.
