Page 23

CHAPTER 22

MIKHAIL

“It’s not a good idea. She’s in a safe house too. Ivan is not above torture to try and learn locations. Stay here, I’ll be back soon.” I hate leaving Ana, but at the same time, I promised Zoya I’d see my littlest sister one more time before heading back to Vegas.

“I don’t want to stay here by myself.” Ana pushes a dark curl behind her ear and sticks out that lower lip.

Fuck, I hate what it does to my cock. It’s distracting.

“I’ll be back soon. Stay here, or I can promise you will not enjoy the damn spanking.” I check my pistol and put it in the holster before walking towards the door.

“Fine, I’ll just stay here and enjoy my own company.” Ana leans back onto the small couch and props up one knee before sliding her palm down the front of her leggings.

Jesus Christ.

“I have to go.” When I slam the door shut, it takes me a minute to catch my breath.

That woman is going to be the best kind of death of me.

I send Enzo a quick text to let me know if she leaves.

Why do I need extra eyes on my own wife to keep her safe from herself?

Getting back to America should help, being on my own turf. At least I know that danger isn’t lurking around every corner there.

The drive to Zoya’s feels much longer since I’m staring at my phone most of the trip, dreading a notification from Enzo that Ana did something wild.

Maybe I should put a GPS tracker on her?

“Mikhail, I’m so glad you’re here!” Zoya answers the door with a beaming smile in a snug bright blue dress.

I nod, stepping into the foyer. “I promised I’d say goodbye before I leave Russia.”

Her face drops. “Oh. You’re leaving so soon? I was hoping you’d be able to spend more time here, with Galena.”

Glancing around the room, I don’t see any signs of her. “Where is she?”

Zoya waves her hand idly, making her flowing sleeve fall to her elbow. “She’s at a friend’s house. I tried to talk her into staying here for a little while longer, but she insisted.”

Rubbing my temple doesn’t make the forming headache fade. “Zoya. She’s six. And I don’t have time for this.” All I can think of is Ana waiting for me.

“She’ll be back soon. Let’s have a drink while we wait?” Her knee shows through a waist high slit in her skirt with every step towards the kitchen.

There’s already two glasses set out with a full bottle of bourbon between them.

“Zoya, I have to leave today. I’m heading back to Vegas. Tell Galena I’ll call to talk once I’m home.” My palm lands on the handle.

“Back to your big fancy casino?” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and begins to pour.

“Yea. I miss my Corvette.” This truck I’ve been driving bounces so hard I swear my kidneys are bruised. “Once you get used to the finer things, it’s hard to step down.”

“See? I knew you’d understand. I feel the exact same way.” She pushes one of the tumblers into my hand. “That’s why I’d love to leave this hovel.” Her nose wrinkles.

With her father being the Butcher, she did enjoy the lavish life.

“You’re safe here, Zoya.” I stare at the glass.

I’m not here to drink.

She leans close enough I can see down her low cut dress. “Take me with you?” Her fingers dance over my wrist.

Gently, I peel them off and put my full tumbler into her hand. “This is a good place for you. Ivan would be looking for you in Vegas. He’s already tortured two of my family trying to find you. He has men everywhere.”

Her dark eyes widen. “See? That’s why I need to be there, where you can watch over me.” She smiles, biting her bright red bottom lip.

I can see where this is going.

“I have to go. I’ll have Enzo check in on you.” I’m outside before she can touch me again.

The thought of any other woman besides my wife makes my skin crawl.

Ana is everything I need, or want.

Zoya steps out, her long black hair whipping in the cold wind. “Wait, Mikhail! I don’t want to be stuck here. Please, I want to leave.” She wraps her arms around her waist, hemming in the thin fabric of her dress.

“I’m sorry, there isn’t any other choice.” I crawl behind the steering wheel, leaving her watching me until she disappears in the rearview mirror.

Fuck, I wish there was a better option.