Page 12 of The Enemy’s Defector (Ivanov Syndicate #3)

NIKOLAI

S he cared enough to free me from that room.

And now she wants nothing to do with me?

In the middle of the night, when the nightmares and flashbacks from my captivity hit in full force, I shot upright and immediately tried not to breathe too hard to alert Katerina to the fact that I was suffering.

Instead, I swallowed and gulped in deep inhales until I could calm myself down.

It wasn’t only new nightmares of what I went through in the last month or so, but also older dreams from when I was taken as a child.

The walk toward the execution room. The fearful looks on Damon and Maxim’s faces.

Making a sound could wake up Katerina, and until I could figure out this hot-and-cold treatment she was giving me, I didn’t want to make things weirder between us.

She cared. I sat there and knew this. She had to care to get me out of that room. No one had asked her to risk her life to save me. No one had put her up to it. Katerina was too stubborn to be told to be a heroine.

Ever since we’d come to this safehouse, though, this unspoken awkwardness loomed larger and larger between us. This gap of some weird energy and distance yawned wider. I couldn’t figure out what her issue was.

What the fuck are you saying, man?

I shook my head and smirked at the wall across from me.

She was out on her own now. Of course, her head wasn’t in a good place right now. She explained how she’d defied Anton. How she’d killed his favorite guard when she left the mansion. And then how she’d dared to find me and break me out.

She was a wanted woman and she knew it.

So far, she hadn’t said where she’d go and what she’d do. That hadn’t come up mostly because I questioned her about what had happened while I was gone. The topic of her plans hadn’t come up because she got quiet and closed-lipped, too. Pensive and stuck in her head.

At first, I guessed that she was unsure of how to tread around me after we’d fucked. It changed things, obviously. Yet, as she stayed quiet and on the couch, almost avoiding me, I wondered if she was merely trying to give me space. To let me acclimate to the fact that I’d survived captivity again.

But why would you want to push me away like this?

I got up, unsettled about her acting so differently around me now. Something wasn’t adding up, and I was restless and aggravated to not know why we seemed to be out of connection like this.

This bed was large enough for both of us, but not a single second of flirtation or desire was hinted at.

She chose that couch, as if needing to exaggerate that she wasn’t interested in me at all.

And it stung.

Walking out to the living room, I kept my steps light so I wouldn’t wake her. I couldn’t handle more of her quietness, that almost nervous energy she seemed to have now.

I’d slept a lot over the last few days. I’d rested and zoned out, forced to let my body take over. Admitting I needed to recover wasn’t easy, but that was all I was capable of at first.

When I was more balanced and able to get up, though, I couldn’t figure out how to talk to her anymore. This was Katerina. The woman I’d always had in my life. As a girl, a teen, then a woman. I’d never failed to talk to her. To click with her—sexually or not.

Now, it was like we were strangers eager to part ways.

Watching her sleep, I sighed slowly and dragged my hand over my head until my hair fell back.

Just seeing her safe and near me filled a hole in my soul. With her close, I could be calmer. Steadier. But the sight of her here with me also reminded me of how far I’d fallen.

She was supposed to be the enemy. She freely admitted that she’d been intended to infiltrate my family as a spy.

She can’t be yours.

Just accept it.

And deal with it.

Because she was a Kozlov and Anton had ruined any alliance we could ever look forward to, I was expected to maintain a buffer between us.

So that means what, then?

I couldn’t let her be in trouble for saving me. I couldn’t send her off and let her fend for herself out there without any support or backing or security. Sure, she planned to leave her uncle, but that was a fantasy.

Once someone was in the Mafia life, there was no simple exit. Anton would hunt her down, and he had the guards to expend on that effort.

Nor could I bring her home with me. That was what I wanted, if life could ever be fair.

I wished I could protect her with the full extent of the Ivanov name, but I didn’t know how I could convince Maxim that she wasn’t an enemy.

He was in charge while our father recovered.

He was more skeptical of letting Katerina—or any woman—too close to us.

That was the residual effect of our mother’s affairs and betrayals.

We all had too many issues with trusting women.

I trusted you, though.

Yearning to touch her, to reach out to her and feel her warmth, I resisted and stood a few feet back.

This boundary between us seemed impossible to maintain. I didn’t want to be so guarded with her. Yet, I didn’t know how else to treat her now.

On a heavy sigh, I turned and went back to the bedroom, disappointed we couldn’t argue a little more and snap like we did before, caving to each other.

We’d fight, and she’d impress me with her stubbornness.

Like this, she could be in my arms afterward, sharing that bed with me and helping me sleep.

Now what?

Too awake to try to rest, I reclined on the bed and flexed my arm a little, just to test my range of motion. It wasn’t great. And I wanted to be more flexible and stronger, but it would take time.

I couldn’t let her go. Not with my escape so recent and fresh and Anton furious about it. Letting Katerina be exposed to danger because of me wasn’t happening.

I couldn’t take her home. Not until I knew it was safe for me to go home. And that wouldn’t be possible until I identified who had ordered my capture.

All that remained was this. Hiding together. Waiting for a direction. Staying alive.

And maybe one day, getting back to what we used to be. Even before that one night we slept together.

Eventually, I dozed. I woke to find her still sleeping on the couch. She stirred at the sounds of my footsteps, though.

“Morn—”

She hurried to get off the couch and ran to the bathroom.

“—ing.” I raised my brows at her rushing away from me. Or maybe it wasn’t a hurry to evade me, not like that. It was probably nothing more than an urgent call of nature.

When she returned to the living room moments later, where I was pacing and trying my hardest to force my body into more movement and not going stiff from the beatings I’d taken, she didn’t look well.

Pale. Distracted. Nervous.

“Are you sick?”

She flinched at my question, and I regretted being so blunt.

“No. I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.” I urged her to sit. Fuck this distance and wariness. She was clueless how to act around me, and I was equally confused and bewildered. We had to talk and get over whatever was causing us not to communicate well and know we could be something like a team together.

She scowled at me as she slumped onto the couch. Her furrowed brow almost made her look more alive, more with it and not as vacant or nervous. But just barely.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I mean…” She huffed and hung her head. “I’m just tired and trying to think about the future and… It’s nothing, Nik.”

I wouldn’t call her a liar with that response. I was tired too. And considering the next step was a headache-worthy effort.

“Don’t tell me that it’s nothing. It’s something,” I said, trying not to sound overly combative. “And we’ll figure it out.”

She raised her piercing blue gaze to me, studying me. “ We will figure it out?”

I nodded. “Yes. You and me.”

Just like it should be, dammit.

“Together,” I vowed, unsure how we’d be able to stick together past this rough spell.