Page 39 of Wild

“Is…Is Rush okay?” I grip my dress tight at the knees.

“My people are working on it.”

“FBI? YourAdelaide? Is—” I stop at his raised brow when I say her name.

He shifts in his seat as we drive through traffic, and, with his eyes still on the road, he takes hold of my chin. “Are you questioning me, Rose?”

“Yes.”

He laughs, but it’s a sound of soft humor that doesn’t reach his eyes. When we stop at a red light, he kisses me.Hard. It’s not pretty, a savage kiss of need and fear and desire. After he’s done, he sighs against me.

“You need to be careful with your questions, Rose,” he rasps.

“You don’t scare me.” He does, but not in that way, not for my own self or my safety when I’m with him. When I’m in his arms, his space, it’s the safest place on the planet.

“I’m slipping.” He leans back when the light changes and steps on the gas, letting me go. “Rush is fine, and the FBI… She wants help.”

“But—”

“It’s an old trick to manipulate vulnerabilities.”Like me.

“You can’t help her,” I reply.

“No fucking shit, Rose, but I have to play the game, and right now, I need to come up with something.”

“Nikolai, what do you need?”

“Just you. You and your perfect Italian wedding.” He pauses. “And you safe before that. This all ties into other matters.”

The reason we’re here.

I lean close to him. “If we’re going to share a life, I want it to be a real sharing. All of it: the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

He nods. “Maybe you’re right, Rose.”

“I’m always right.”

Nikolai laughs.

As we pull up to the hotel, I stop him before he gets out. He’ll never thank me for pointing out I can see his worry, taste his fear. It won’t soothe. It’ll make things worse, and Niko worried is a frightening thing. He never is…or, at least he doesn’t show it.

“He’ll be all right,” I say, wishing I could offer him more comfort than just words.

Nikolai turns hard. “He better be, or people will die.”

* * *

Back in our suite, Nikolai moves about, then points to the lamp. I’ve seen enough spy things to immediately guess there might be a bug. He leaves, talks to his men outside, and when he comes back, I’m sitting on the sofa, hands folded, the picture of…I don’t even know what.

I wanted to rip the place apart, stomp after him, but I’m more mature than that. Plus, I’m not sure it’ll help. What I want is to call Genius, because what are best friends for if not to talk through issues and concerns? But I can’t.

This is different.

This is a Nikolai problem, all mafia, dark-edged, and violent, and very much not working within the law.

Calling her right now won’t help.

A click and a shift in the room, like the oxygen’s been sucked away, and an electric charge comes down.

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