“How fancy. I've never used a car service before.”
Matvei cracks a smile. “It makes it easier to tend to business when someone else is doing the driving.”
That makes sense even though I have no idea what kind of business this guy is in. Hell, I don't even know his last name.
As if the universe heard my wandering thoughts, Matvei’s attention focuses on a man in a suit holding up a piece of paper with the nameMatvei Volkov.
“I told them not to do that,” he says, clearly agitated. “They should know better.”
I look at the sign, his surname catching my attention. Now I know why his name sounded familiar. The only time I heard it, it was said with a snarl, with undisguised hatred. My ex didn't have to tell me how much he hated the man—I heard it every time he talked about his older half-brother.
Oh, shit.
“Is that you?”
“Yes.” The word comes out with an annoyance that tells me the driver is going to get an ass chewing. I should be wondering why the sign is a problem, but I don't have to, because I know exactly who this man is now.
I also now know I need to be terrified.
This man is my ex's estranged, older half-brother. Matvei is the man my ex had an unusual obsession with. He talked about him often, especially when he was drunk, going on and on about how he deserved so much more than the man who had helped ruin his life.
My feet stop. I watch Matvei as he speaks to the driver with the sign, suddenly wondering if I need to run and hide because the driver's life is likely about to end. I’m not sure I’m being overly dramatic either, because Matvei Volkov is the monster in my ex's stories. He's a cold-blooded killer.
I feel like I'm on the airplane again as my heart starts pounding, tingles running from my fingers up my arms to the center of my chest, making it difficult to draw in a full breath. I'm frozen in place, staring at the back of Matvei’s head as a sea of travelers breaks around me.
Someone mutters something in a different language, but it's not difficult to translate the tone and realize people are starting to get annoyed that I'm standing still and blocking their way. I start moving. I'm not sure where I’m going, so I let the crowd take me along until I'm outside at the curb where taxis wait. I don’t care if they overcharge me as a tourist. I would pay anything just to get away from the man I just spent a flight with, the man I just had amazing sex with.
I keep glancing over my shoulder, expecting to see him as I slip into the back of a taxi and shut the door, giving the driver the address of my hotel. I don't breathe a sigh of relief until we're a good distance away from the airport, away from the unexpected danger I nearly fell into.
I'm just happy I didn't give him any more information beyond my first name, no matter how good the sex was.
“I cannot believe you did that.”
My best friend glares at me from the computer screen. The sun is just setting in Chicago, jet lag preventing me from being able to get to sleep, even though it's early morning here in Prague. Originally, I had planned to go sightseeing as soon as I reached the hotel, but instead, I’ve been holed up in my room because I'm so unnerved about my encounter with my ex's dangerous half-brother.
“I know, I know,” I sigh. “It figures the one time I decide to go a little crazy it blows up in my face.”
“A little crazy? I'm fairly certain you've gone officially insane. You had sex in the bathroom of an airplane with some random stranger who ended up being part of the Russian mob.”
I watch Kelly’s animated expression, her dark eyes narrowing as she brushes long, dark hair from her face.
“I had no idea. My Spidey senses were thwarted by how sexy he is. I don’t have your cop instincts.”
“You’re a lawyer who works domestic abuse cases,” she shoots back. “I'm sure you've heard enough of these stories from your clients to learn to be verycareful.”
She’s right. I’ve represented enough women fleeing the underground world of Chicago to have a decent handle on the mob scene in our city. From the Irish mob to the Russian mob to the Chechens and the Italians, the glimpses I've had are more than enough to warn me away.
“I'm not getting involved with that.” I take another long sip from a glass of wine.
“Fine,” Kelly flaps a hand at me across the screen. “I'm just worried about you, okay?” Her green eyes find mine, and I cansee the worry in them. “I'm not in organized crime, but names like Volkov, Mancini, and Genovese are bad news. Promise me you'll be careful. I know your heart is broken, but don't lose your good sense. You've worked with too many women in horrible situations not to know where this path can lead.”
“I know. I just thought it might be fun to have a vacation fling.”
“Well, it kinda sounds like you did.” I see a twinkle in Kelly's eye, causing me to giggle. “Just don't bring him home for Sunday dinner. Mom and Dad will seriously start questioning their choice of adopting you as a kid if you bring a Russian mobster home after almost marrying his asshat brother.”
“I'm not going to bring him home.” I roll my eyes, then giggle again as an image pops into my head. “Can you imagine Dad trying to stare down a Russian mobster? And let me tell you, this guy is huge—built like a linebacker and at least six-foot-four. He shut down one of the flight attendants with a single look.”
“Dad will do it, though,” Kelly laughs. “Or try to, anyway.”