Page 9 of Savage Princess

My head is spinning, and I open my mouth to ask another question, but Levin shakes his head sharply. “Elena, do what I say. We don’t have time to keep talking about this.”

I nod, swallowing my fear as I retreat back to the alley, flattening myself against the wall and trying to make myself as small as possible. With every second that ticks by, a dozen scenarios play through my head, each one worse than the last, and all ending with Levin getting captured or killed as he’s trying tobreak into an ATM.

Get a grip,I tell myself, trying to steady my breathing as I listen for anything out of the ordinary, any footsteps coming my way that sound like more than just one person, any sounds of Levin being interrupted.You’re the daughter of one of the biggest cartel bosses in Mexico, and you’re freaking out over a little theft?

My father’s criminal enterprises had always felt very far removed from me, though. I’d always been aware of what financed our beautiful home and the luxuries that my sister and I indulged in, but it had been easy not to think about it. It had never really touched me. Even Diego’s attacks had been fueled by his jealousy and anger, not directly because of what my father did for “work.” This feels much closer, more personal. I can’t ignore what Levin is doing so easily.

It doesn’t matter,I tell myself.You’re not hurting anyone. Banks are insured. And what are you going to do without money? Sleep in the alley in your robe?

The wait feels interminable. I feel sick with nerves by the time I hear footsteps and nearly jump out of my skin before I hear Levin’s voice, very low, saying my name.

“Come on, Elena,” he murmurs. “We need to get out of here, quickly.”

I can’t remember having ever felt so utterly exhausted in my life, in every possible way—physically, emotionally, mentally. I just nod, unable to think of anything to say as I let him take my arm, helping me down the alley as we slip away from where Levin just stole–I’m assuming–a considerable amount of money.

“Just a little further,” Levin says quietly. “And then we can stop.”

When we do stop, it’s in front of a motel that could barely be called that. There’s a half-litVacancysign in the window, sputtering, and all of the rooms are accessible from the outside. It’s far from being all that secure, but even I know without asking that we don’t have that many options right now.

Levin walks up to the window where a bored-looking clerk is sitting, half-asleep, a magazine open on the desk in front of her. She looks up at us with half-lidded eyes, and Levin fumbles in his pocket, pushing several bills across toward her.

“Extra, if you don’t ask for a name,” he says evenly, and she shrugs.

“Here’s a key.” She flings a key on a plastic ring towards him, and Levin scoops it up, pivoting quickly away from the window with me still pressed close to his side.

“Quickly,” he murmurs, glancing down at the key as we walk. “It’s just down here, I think.”

It’s not until we’re inside the room that I feel as if I can breathe again—which turns out to not be all that pleasant. There’s a musty scent in the room that, mingled with the strong antiseptic smell of industrial cleaners, makes my nose burn and my throat itch. But we are, at the very least, ostensibly safer than we were a few moments ago. We’re inside and out of sight.

Levin crosses to the large window looking out towards the parking lot, tugging the garish floral curtains closed as he peers out through the small gap. “It’s not ideal,” he says quietly, backing towards the one queen-sized bed in the center of the room. “But it’s better than being out in the open.”

I nod, sinking exhaustedly onto the edge of the bed. “You managed to get cash out of the ATM?” I look at Levin standing across the room from me, wrapped in the too-short hotel robe that leaves a good bit of his thighs and all of his muscled calves bare, and I have to fight back a laugh. He looks absolutely ridiculous, and as the image of what we must have looked like running through the city together like this fills my head, I have to bite down on my lower lip to keep from bursting into laughter that I know will turn hysteric.

“Some.” Levin rubs a hand across his hair. “It must have been emptied recently, because there wasn’t as much as I’d hoped. But it will be enough to keep us going for a little while until I can figure something else out.”

He winces then, glancing down at the soles of his feet. “Fuck, if running through this city barefoot wasn’t a bad idea. Are you alright?”

I nod. “My ankle really hurts. But I didn’t step on anything bad or hurt myself other than that. My side hurts, but nothing’s damaged.”

Levin nods. “You should try to get some sleep,” he says finally. “I know it’s not easy, but I’m going to stay awake and keep watch. You should at least rest.”

I know he’s right. I’m bone tired in a way I’ve never experienced before, not even after the crash. I feel completely wiped out in every possible way. But at the same time, the adrenaline from fleeing the hotel is still crashing through me, leaving me too wired to sleep.

“I’ll try,” I tell him, but I already know it’s going to be hopeless. I limp to the bathroom to pee, splash water on my face and rinse off my feet in the tub, wincing at the filthy water that washes down the drain.Thank god I didn’t step on anything that could have really hurt me,I think as I clean off, remembering our mad dash through the alleyways and streets. The lack of shoes had seemed like a small thing in comparison to being chased by what I can only assume were more of Diego’s goons, but with that threat receding, I’m very aware of just how bad that could have been.

When I come out of the bathroom, I see Levin sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair by the window, his gun in his lap, his face set in hard, worried lines. I can still feel all the worry of the night pulsing through me, and I know I’m going to be completely unable to sleep.

I still slip into the bed, tugging the covers up to my waist as I twist around to face him. I want to talk about anything other than what’s happened tonight, and I have questions still burning in the back of my mind, questions that I feel like I’m a little more owed the answers to now.We’re in this together.I want to know who this man is, really, who has devoted himself so completely to keeping me safe, while continuing to deny us both what we both clearly want.

“What did you mean?” I ask quietly, and he glances over at me. “What you said about not letting something happen again, when we talked about what happened on the beach. What was that about?”

Levin’s eyes narrow a little, and he lets out a long breath. For a moment, I think he’s going to tell me that he doesn’t want to talk about it, and reiterate that I should go to sleep. But then I see his shoulders sag a little, as if some of the fight has gone out of him, and he looks over at me.

“The woman I was married to, a long time ago—” he hesitates, his hand flexing on his thigh as if it’s a struggle to get the words out. A part of me feels bad for prying, but at the same time, I feel like I need to know. I need to understand what drives him, what makes him tick. Why he behaves the way he does.

“She was part of a job,” he says finally. “I was assigned to watch her. She was working for the same organization I was a part of—not entirely of her own will, but that’s a longer story. We were together a lot. Stuck in the same hotel room a lot of the time.”

He presses his lips together, hesitating, and I’m not insensible to the similarities. Levin and I have been pushed together, too, forced into a close proximity that breeds intimacy, especially when there’s attraction. I hate it a little, thinking of how similar that situation must have been, but at the same time, his behavior makes more sense with every word he says.

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