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“I did.”

“My bag? Did you bring it in?” I look around but don’t see it anywhere.

“I’ll get it in the morning.” He saunters to the kitchen. His belt jangles with each step as he moves around, looking through cupboards and the fridge.

“Rurik.” I lean against the kitchen island that separates the kitchen from the living room.

When I don’t continue, he looks up at me from over the door of the fridge. My mouth dries. His brow is all wrinkled, and his eyes are still holding onto the intense darkness he had earlier. Looking at me seems to make it worse.

“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to get in the way of your…well…whatever you were doing.” Beating the man for information is what it looked like, but I’m pretty sure the guy deserved it.

He stands up to his full height, shoving the fridge closed.

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah…” I lose track of whatever I was going to say when he hooks his hands on his hips.

No one has ever looked so damn sexy while being so damn scary at the same time.

“Maybe we can find the information you needed here? I mean, maybe he hid it here?”

His eyes narrow a fraction. “It’s possible.”

“Good.” I sigh with relief. “Then we need to just find it.”

“No.” He goes back into the fridge and pulls out what looks like a casserole of some sort. “You need to eat something. I’ll look around.”

“I can help.”

“You can eat and stay out of my way.”

His tone, laced with annoyance, hits me hard in the chest.

“You know, I didn’t ask for you to drag me along on this little mission of yours. In fact, I was very clear that I wanted you to leave me alone.”

He presses his hands against the counter of the island, leaning closer to me. Heat rises up my back until my face is covered with it just from the darkness lingering in his stare.

He’s pissed.

I’ve seen him angry, this is different.

“He could have killed you.” It’s low and growly, the way he makes his statement.

“But he didn’t.”

“He could have. One more hard push of that knife and he would have nicked your carotid artery. He was right there.” His throat flexes as he swallows.

I touch the cut on my neck. “I’ve already apologized and explained.”

He nods sharply. “Right. You had to pee.”

“I did. Do you think I’m lying?”

“No,” he says after a drawn-out pause.

His voice dips lower, grows harder somehow as he says, “But it doesn’t matter. I told you to stay in the fucking car.”

“And I didn’t obey your command, so what…you’re just gonna…ignore me?” Have I lost my fucking mind? Why am I poking the angry mobster looking like he’s ready to rip my head off?