Page 20 of Scarred (Russian Sinners 2)

Today was a miracle. I shuddered in revolt at just the possibility of still being in Malcome’s house. Or experiencing firsthand my father’s rage. Hugging my body tight, I turned my head to watch familiar sights of my home country blur past me.

When I was a young girl, I dreamt of vengeance against my father. He kept getting away with everything while all he brought onto Mom, Oliver, and me was pain. I asked for help only once. I was about ten, about the time after Anastasia’s rescue from abduction. My school counselor called my father and told him they could not support a young girl’s dramatic fantasies. I still remembered her smiling seductively at my father, flirting with him while I stood frozen knowing what would happen when we got home.

Erasing the images from the forefront of my mind, I focused on now. The man that called himself my father didn’t deserve any of my thoughts. He didn’t deserve a family. I hated him as much as I hated Malcome, and if I never saw him again, it would be too soon.

I noted we were in the vicinity of Washington Dulles, and I wondered if the private airport he mentioned was there. For the remainder of the drive, we both stayed silent. It didn’t bother me; relishing in the peace I felt inside for the first time in years.

The next twenty-four hours were a pure whirlwind. Nikolai drove us to the airport where a private, luxury plane already awaited us.

We boarded the plane and, throwing a glance behind me, I hesitated at the top step. Nikolai was right behind me, but he was so tall his eyes leveled with mine. He stopped too, as if worried nudging me into that plane would backfire. He was right. I didn’t like the idea of entrusting my life to another man. So far men have failed me in life. I only had myself to trust. And here I was relying on a stranger that Anastasia sent to help me.

As if he read my thoughts, he murmured, “You have nothing to fear from me, Olivia. I promise.”

Strangely, I believed him. I didn’t like it but I believed him.

The entire time we were in the air, I was a nervous wreck about entering a foreign country illegally. Turns out my fears were for nothing because when we arrived in Russia, Nikolai had two passports presented to border patrol. I didn’t ask.

I couldn’t believe I was back in Moscow. It felt like I just left, and the circumstances under which I left were horrific. Both Anastasia and Scarlett were kidnapped, but now, according to Nikolai, they were both okay but still had to hide.

“Where do we go from here?” I asked him as he got behind the wheel of a black Maserati.

“We’ll drive to St. Petersburg,” he replied. “I have a house there and you’ll be safe.”

I nodded. The first week in Russia, Anastasia, Scarlett, and I spent time in St. Petersburg. But we didn’t drive from St. Petersburg to Moscow. We took a short flight.

“How long will the drive be?” I asked him. There were so many thoughts twirling in my head. I had to leave my phone with my brother so I truly felt like I was at Nikolai’s mercy. I couldn’t even look up a simple fact such as the distance between these two cities. I hated the dependency.

“It will be about seven and a half hours, if we have no traffic.”

“Why didn’t we just fly into St. Petersburg?” I thought the question was a reasonable one.

“It’s safer to fly into a larger airport,” he answered, like it was common knowledge. “The passenger records get lost easier and I have connections at the Moscow airport.”

“Oh.”

I wanted to ask him what that meant exactly. It seemed Nikolai didn’t run things strictly on the legal side. The less I knew, probably better.

But I struggled leaving myself at his mercy. “What does that mean exactly? And if I decide to leave, how am I supposed to do that without a valid passport?”

His lips quirked into a smile and I held in my breath again. This man was truly mesmerizing when he smiled. Like the wilderness with breathtaking views. It could awe you and kill you with all its dangers lurking in the shadows.

“I can leave the fake passport with you,” he suggested, his eyes never wavering from the road. “I wouldn’t recommend using it again though. Your brother will arrange it so your real passport gets to you. And you will always be able to call him. You are not my prisoner, Olivia.”

It should have bothered me we were doing something illegal here but the relief I felt was stronger.

“Well, that’s good to know,” I muttered under my breath. “Although, there are different kinds of prisons. Sometimes the cages with the invisible bars are far worse.”

“That’s true,” he agreed. “We’ll eliminate the cage that held you prisoner to your ex-fiancé.”

And you? Who will protect me from you?I wanted to ask that question but I held my tongue.

So far he had only helped. But my sense of self-preservation kept warning me he could be dangerous. There was something dark about him yet he held it tightly reined in. But it was still there.

I noticed he said ex, although technically nothing had been resolved. It told me he was sure he’d handle it. I wondered again what Malcome had done to this man. This man seemed untouchable with his roughness and strength.

“How do you intend to bring Malcome down?” I inquired. If it involved me, I had the right to know.

His blue gaze lingered on me, sending the most pleasant heat through my body. I wasn’t sure whether I should relish in the knowledge that my body could feel desire for another man or if I should dread it.

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