Page 7 of Lash

“I—I can't. I mean, I can delete it, but it won't stop Stjepan from seeing it. He already has. It's too late."

"Then it's too late for you."BANG!

Thud.

"You can come out," Lash says in a normal pitch.

I emerge from beneath the airplane and join Lash. Ivan is at his feet, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, a pool of blood spreading beneath his skull. "Now what?"

A phone chimes and Lash bends to retrieve the device from Ivan's pocket; he holds the phone over Ivan's face, and it unlocks.

"Dammit," Lash hisses. "Damn them to hell."

"What?"

"Your father has my friends. This is even more complicated than I thought. Mercado is a very crafty and duplicitous man." Lash pockets the phone. "Come. We must leave this place before their co-conspirators discover their deaths. We will make plans on the way."

He stops to rifle through Filip’s pockets, coming up with the key fob for the Range Rover. I climb into the front passenger seat as Lash takes the wheel. The dome lights illuminate him.

He's even more absurdly, devilishly gorgeous in person than in the AI deepfake. His beard is long and shiny and braided to a point at his chest, with elegant, curving mustaches. His hair is bound back in a low ponytail, and his eyes are deep and dark and wise and kind. At least, they're kind as he regards me.

And my god, his body.

Massive, bulging, rounded shoulders, arms nearly the size of my thighs, a heavy, hard chest, and flat, rippling abs. He's scarred all over, as well, speaking of a life of violence.

For a moment, we merely stare at each other.

"You have truly blossomed into a beautiful woman, Tatiana. Given a thousand years, I could not a find the words in any of the languages I know to adequately capture your beauty,” he says in English and then switches to Croatian. "You can trust me, Lovely One. I will not rest until you are safe once more."

He makes my pulse race. “I…I…” And, apparently, leaves me tongue-tied. "I trust you, Lash. Perhaps I shouldn't, but I do."

He takes my hand and kisses the back of it, his glittering black eyes never leaving mine. "Your faith in me is a priceless gift, Lovely One." Croatian again. Then back to English. " We must go. Time is short, especially for my friends."

He whips the SUV in a tight circle and nails the accelerator to the floor, and we're off into the purple light of a dusky Zagreb sunset.

And for some reason, I am not afraid, despite the dangerous, deadly game we're caught up in.

Lash will protect me.

the princess of zagreb

Lash

My memory of Zagreb is rusty from disuse, and time is not on my side. In the passenger seat beside me, Tatiana Juric looks frightened but determined, shaken but resolute.

"How well do you know the roads, Lovely One?" I ask in Croatian.

She frowns and sighs. "Not well, I'm afraid. Georg…" she trails off, sniffling. "I trusted him to drive and navigate."

"Filip killed Georg?” I ask.

She nods. "Yes, along with two of my employees."

“I am sorry for your losses," I say.

She shakes her head. "I just…I don't understand what is happening."

"We are pawns in a very complicated game," I tell her. "I do not know all of the details, or even very many of them, but I know the general outlines."