Page 26 of Scarlet Mark
“Unfortunately,” she muttered, her hand already on the door.
I reached over to stop her. “Who do you recognize?”
She blew out a breath, her gaze snagging on the one in the middle. “That’s Boris. The rest…” She shrugged. “He likes his goons.”
“But does he usually send this many?”
Her gaze finally met mine. “No. Why?”
“Because I find it rather odd that your dear senator has sent a welcoming caravan of twenty men to restrain one woman.”
She smirked in reply, shaking her head. “It’s probably his version of a punishment. Maybe they’ll let you join, finish what we started earlier.”
The cold words froze me inside. “You think he’s…” I couldn’t even finish that thought or statement, my blood boiling so hot it resembled ice.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she replied, sounding so detached my heart hurt. “Well, maybe with twenty. It’s usually four, maybe five. But I’ve pissed him off. So.” Another shrug, as if this type of treatment were the most normal thing in the world to her.
“That’s why you ran,” I realized, and the look she gave me confirmed it. Oh, this could all be an act, but I knew a broken soul when I saw one. And it was staring me back in the face now, all of her defenses gone.
Because she’d given up.
Fuck.
A shuffle in front of me had my gaze snapping to the men, my jaw tensing.
No. She might be right about a punishment, but there was something else at play here. I could practically taste the adrenaline on my tongue, the impending fight, the excitement in the air.
Amara was their dessert, not their entrée.
I gave them all a little wave, feigning a calm I didn’t feel, and leaned over to pull a box from a compartment behind Amara’s seat. All my cars came equipped with a small rectangular container, as per my arrangement with the consulting agency I went through.
Pressing my thumb to the sensor along the edge caused the case to open with a hiss.
A pistol with two magazines sat waiting for me inside. I tucked them into my jacket, the darkness of our interior hiding my actions from the observers outside. It helped that I’d left the high beams on, illuminating and blinding them all.
I added two flash bangs to my pockets, along with two daggers, and plucked a pair of earplugs from the pile as well.
“Follow my lead,” I told Amara, killing the engine but not the lights. I returned the box to its rightful place while she watched.
“Not like I have a choice, right?” she countered, her voice flat. Cold. She’d already turned herself off, displaying a woman I barely recognized. Not that I really knew her, but this was not the female I tracked down at the bar but a girl beaten down to a point of surrender.
If this was all an act, I’d kill her myself.
But I trusted my instincts and abilities. They’d served me well thus far.
I put the plugs in my ears, well versed in reading lips in my profession. “Let’s go.” I didn’t wait for her to comply, just stepped out of the car, the remote to her cuff a calming weight in my hand as I nudged the door closed with my opposite palm.
“Gentlemen,” I greeted, purposely standing to the side of the car where I’d blend into the shadows lurking beyond the light. “I’ve got to tell you, this little firecracker is a handful.” I peered into the center of the mass, identifying the one Amara had recognized. “Boris, right?”
A hint of annoyance flashed over his features, his lips moving to form the words, “I see she’s been talking.”
“She wouldn’t shut up.” I infused a hint of irritation into my tone while I spoke. “I’ll be very glad to get this trade over with.”
Boris nodded. “Excellent. Come here, Amara.”
She didn’t move, defiance written all over her stance. Or perhaps she noticed what I did about the eager men dotting the perimeter.
They weren’t staring at her with hungry eyes, but at me.
