There’s nobody left to help.
“Please, Nika. I’m telling the truth.” His voice is soft with understanding. He knows this is crazy, but he’s doing it anyway, because the threat is real.
My father’s enemies are coming.
“You better not try anything.”
His hand disappears back outside. “I promise.”
I shut the door, slide the chain free, and open it again.
Gabe steps into my apartment. I let out a shocked sound and move back as he turns, looks over his shoulder, and slams the door closed. He looks back at me, dark eyes burning into mine, that charming, confident smile back, the white dress draped over his arm. He turns, squaring up to me, and my chest tightens. He’s big, easily six inches or more taller than I am, and covered in lean, athletic muscle. It makes my mouth run dry and my pulse hammer. His presence makes me shockingly uncomfortable.
“What’s with the dress?” I manage to croak.
He drops his eyes to it. His smile falters. “This is how I’m going to save your life.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I know.” He looks at me again. I resist the urge to squirm. “It’s nice to meet you, Nika. I’ve heard a lot from Yelena.”
“Don’t listen to that crazy old Russian lady.”
His expression seems genuine now. “Yeah, I figured that out, but she was right about you. Just as pretty as she said.”
My cheeks burn. Aunt Yelena didn’t compliment much, but she was always consistent about one topic:too pretty for your own good.
“Do you, uh, want to come in? I have some wine. Sorry, the place is a mess, but?—“
“We don’t have time for that.” He comes closer and puts a hand on my arm. I want to shake him off, but I’m too compliant to move. I stay frozen, taking in this striking stranger. “Right now, we need to run, and I need you to trust me.”
“I thought… you were going to explain…”
“It isn’t safe here.”
“But I still don’t know you.”
“Yelena sent me. Isn’t that enough?”
“Sure, to open the door, but I’m not following you to a second location without a good reason.” I turn and force myself to walk into my apartment. I feel sick and unsteady. This man’s sudden appearance is knocking me sideways, and it’s happening at a terrible time. I was already at rock bottom. But apparently, I’m mining under the earth’s crust and tunneling even lower. That’s a talent of mine.
He drifts after but stops near the kitchen. His eyes take in the messy living room, the paints, the brushes, the blank canvas on the easel, the used canvas tossed haphazardly against the wall. Inspiration is pinned on a massive corkboard behind the couch: cutouts from magazines, photographs I took with a film camera Aunt Yelena got for me when I turned sixteen, little treasures I’ve found on the sidewalk, interesting leaves and other small objects I’ve gathered over the years. I feel oddly naked until I realize I’ve never had anyone in my apartment before.
“I like your place,” he says quietly. For some reason, I believe him. He’s very convincing.
“Uh, thanks.” I try to stack some magazines and carry a plate into the kitchen, but that only makes the mess even moreobvious. I give up and pour some wine. He’s clearly impatient and struggling to keep himself under control. I hand over his glass, which he accepts in the hand not holding the dress. I sip mine and put some space between us, standing over near the big windows overlooking the balcony. “So, who’s trying to kill me again?”
Gabe grimaces. His eyes move over the room again like he’s searching for something. “His name is Kaan Aslan. He’s a Turkish arms dealer with a very strong network here in the States.”
“Never heard of him.”
“You wouldn’t have, unless you need to buy weapons in bulk.”
“I got out of the guns game a while back. What’s he want with me?”
“Aslan is trying to dismantle your father’s network. He wants to make sure the Kiselyov fortune remains buried.”
I frown. “But what’s that have to do with me? I’ve never even met my dad. He’s basically a rumor and a recurring deposit into my bank account.”