Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
The words keep coming to cover my discomfort.
“I love books, you know. I grew up in that bookstore, reading everything I could get my hands on. When my dad chased me out, I’d go to the library. It’s part of who I am. It’s part of my father, and I know if he loses the bookstore, I will lose him. And he’s the only parent I have left, even if he isn’t the best at it. He cares in his own way.”
Words keep spilling out of me, information about my family I never meant to tell. Except that I have a small hope that if Evgeny gets to know them, understands why I did what I did, maybe he won’t harm them.
I wait for Evgeny to snap at me to shut up, to tell me he doesn’t give a shit about my family. But though he keeps stalking ahead of me, he doesn’t. Several times he even asks questions and then offers insight.
The insight is as surprising as it is helpful. But more than that, it means he’s listening while I air my rambling thoughts to protect my family.
I have no idea what to think. I’ve come to expect anger and annoyance, not this quiet consideration.
Something buzzes in my pocket, and I realize I must have left my phone in there. The battery is almost dead, but there’s a text waiting for me. Where r u? Need $. Rusian mob.
My feet slow, then stop as I stare at the screen. It takes a moment to realize it’s Jordan’s number and another to decode his garbled, typo-littered message.
Rusian mob?
Russian mob?
I know now there are several bratva in L.A. Is my brother in debt to one of them? Could it possibly be the Kucherovs? Was that why he was at Dmitri’s club?
“Are you coming?”
I jump when I realize Evgeny is standing right in front of me, and I shove the phone back into my pocket. “It’s fine.”
His mouth twists at the odd answer, and I realize it wasn’t what he asked.
“Yes. Fine. I’m coming. Sorry.”
He turns and starts off down the beach again. I jog to catch up, wondering if my brother really is in deep with the Russian mob. A more troubling thought creeps in. What if the man ahead of me is the one he has to answer to?
12
EVGENY
Dmitri knew what happened in the gym. Hearing the mirror crash, he’d come running, straight into a disheveled and distraught Eva as she tugged her sweater over her head before storming out. The last puzzle piece had fallen into place for him when he’d walked in on me, barely dressed, my hair in complete disarray.
Good second that he was, Dmitri didn’t say a thing in the moment, instead making a call to get the big mirror cleaned up and replaced.
He waited until I was climbing the walls after another sleepless night, trying to outrun dreams of Eva. He suggested a run and, along the way, did nothing but toss pointed comments, building to Vasya’s apparent interest in her. I went after him like we were boys in school, knocking him flat until we were wrestling in the rocky beach sand.
If either of us had any last, lingering doubts about my growing feelings for Eva, no matter how much I wanted to deny them, the fight had banished them all.
The run back had been silent.
And then I’d found Eva curled on a chaise lounge outside, asleep under a blanket. I’d stood there, staring at the woman who had looked at me unflinchingly, put her hand to the scars others found so horrifying, and had stayed.
Not only had she stayed, but she had taken me on wholeheartedly.
Dmitri had come out only to hand me two mugs of coffee before disappearing again.
And now, I’ve stepped out of self-imposed isolation in my home office to find Eva curled in a chair, reading. The sight of her, legs tucked under her and her sweatshirt slipping off one slim shoulder, her mind lost in the book, stirs an unfamiliar desire. I find myself moving toward her.
I should turn around, leave her be, for her good and mine.
But her name is already on my tongue, and I can’t, I won’t, stop it.
“Eva.”
She startles, rising halfway out of the chair, her gaze wary as she watches me.
“Sorry,” she says quickly, frozen in her odd position. “I took a book down to read. Is that okay? I can put it back.”
She’s already closed the book, rising to return it to the shelves lining the walls. But she stops when I put a hand up.
“Come with me.”
Eva watches me guardedly as she sets the book on the side table and follows. I feel her reticence in the slow drag of her steps and the way she trails behind. It only deepens when we reach my private wing, and the echo of her footsteps cuts off as she stops.