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“Matvei, there’s one.” I squeeze his hand and point, leading his gaze to the man I spotted. “Is it Timofey?”

“No,” he says, bringing up his gun. He fires two shots, and I see the man collapse. “When I open the door, stay low and get in the car. The glass is bulletproof, but stay as low in the seat as you can. Got it?”

“I’m not going without you.”

“Do as you’re told. I’ll be right behind you.”

His tone warns against arguing. We reach the car door, and he pulls it open for me. I reluctantly relinquish his hand and sneak in, keeping my head down as he quietly shuts the door behind me.

Another shot, and it takes everything in me not to look, but a heartbeat later, the driver’s side door opens, and Matvei is there, turning the key and slamming his foot down on the gas. We fly down the empty street, building speed, tires screeching as we take the turn onto the side road.

“Stay down,” he demands. He’s splattered with blood, dirt, and ash, and there’s hardness to his eyes that makes me shiver.

He watches the rearview, and I curl in on myself, wrapping my arms around my legs. Blood streams down my ankle onto my foot, but I think the wounds are mostly superficial. It hurts, but I’ll live. I scan him for any injuries, but I can’t tell if the blood is his or someone else’s.

“What the fuck were you thinking,” he snaps after ten minutes of driving, when he seems to accept we’re not being followed.

“I told you to get in the van and go. What part of that did you not understand? Stay here, Anya. Go there, Anya. Simple instructions. A child could manage them. Do you ever listen?”

I crawl into the seat and slump back against it, clicking my seatbelt on because he drives like a maniac. “Stop trying to leave me behind! You’re acting like my brothers and it’s bullshit. You’re not my big brother. You’re not my dad, even if you’re old enough to be him.”

His nostrils flare with anger. “I’m not leaving you behind, I’m protecting you because you don’t look out for yourself! You’re reckless. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

The speedometer inches up higher with every word out of his mouth, like it’s directly attached to his temper. “Except I didn’t. I helped. I got those people out.”

“And you put yourself at risk for it.” He shifts gear and cars whiz bar the window in a blur.

“Pull over, Matvei. You’re driving like an idiot, and I’ve already had one brush with death today.”

“I’m the idiot?” He barks a laugh but checks his speed and slows. “I’m the idiot!”

“Yes! You don’t get to control me. I make my own choices, and if I want to risk my own life to help someone, it’s a choice I get to make.”

He turns down a side road and comes to a stop along a pull-off that overlooks the bay. The rain is coming down now, the clouds finally keeping their promise, and the water is white-capped.

“Your choices affect more than just you.” He twists in his seat, and his eyes rake over me, snagging on the rips in my blouse and the bloody streaks the thorns left across my skin.

“Because you don’t want to lose your ransom?” I spit at him, even as I make the same inventory of his condition, searching for cuts or worse.

His face is blank, wiped of any emotion. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine. Don’t change the subject. You, my brothers, you’re all just trying to keep me in the box you made for me.”

He reaches out and brushes the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

I shove his hand away, then climb onto his lap, straddling him as I capture his lips in a bruising kiss. There’s something between us and screw him if he wants to deny it. Maybe it’s some misguided honor thing, like he thinks I’m too young, I don’t care anymore. I want this. I want him.

He kisses me back, sliding his hands under my shirt and up my back, skimming over my shoulder blades.

His touch burns across my skin. We both smell like smoke, and I can taste it on him, but I can taste him too, and I can’t get enough.

My tongue crashes into his, and his teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I liquefy at the sharp hint of pain.

I tug at his shirt, impatient, desperate to get to his bare skin.

He shifts forward to let me pull it off, and I throw it into the backseat, run my hands across his muscled chest like I need to feel every inch of him to be sure he’s okay.

There’s an animalistic need driving me on and he feels it too.

His hands catch on my hips and grind me down against his lap. I can feel his hardness between us.

There’s still too much clothing, but I don’t want to stop kissing him long enough to take mine off. He’s so goddamned big that there’s barely enough room for me above him. His stubble rasps against my lips as the kiss deepens, fire pooling in my stomach. God, I need this man.

He stills suddenly, dropping his hands to his sides, and breaks the kiss. “We can’t do this.”

I dig my nails into the seat behind him to keep from screaming in frustration. I’m losing my mind with desire, and he wants to stop? No. I can feel how hard he is. He doesn’t want to stop. He just thinks he should.

“You want me,” I say, lifting my shirt off and dropping it onto the passenger seat, baring myself to him.

He lets out a soft moan, and his fingers twitch toward me. “You’re too young.”

So that’s what it is. Somewhere in this devil of a man, there’s a moral code, and he thinks this will break it.

I grab his hand and guide it to my breast, the other to my hips. “I’m not too young to know what I want, Matvei.”