Oh boy. He took off his dark jacket—he’d kept it on, not needing the white shirt to announce his presence as he crept up to Kwan’s estate—and put it over her shoulders.
That’s when he noticed her feet.
Her bare feet.
Now cut and bleeding just a trickle.
He sat and began to untie his shoes. He didn’t need both wing tips and socks…
He pulled off one sock, and handed it to her. She took it, a strange expression on her face. “What is this—”
“Your feet. Put it on.”
“David, it stinks.”
He pulled off his other shoe. “Your feet are bleeding.”
“Do you know how often Russian women walk around in pain? We live in pain, every day of the year, with our feet jammed into high heels and spike boots.” She wrinkled her nose. “Nyet.” He handed her the other sock. “Just put them on. I don’t know how long it’ll be till we get home or get you decent footwear. Humor me, oh cave girl with the leathery feet.”
She make a coughing sound as she put on the socks. “I am so never telling anyone about this.” She looked up at him. “And you’d better not either.”
He figured it was supposed to make him laugh. Except it didn’t, not when those words hung there, mocking him.
“Yanna—about what happened back at the Yungs when I kissed you—”
Her smile dimmed. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”
But he had to talk about it. She had to know… “I haven’t kissed anyone since…well, since you, ten years ago.”
She blinked at him. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. “I don’t understand.”
“I just wanted to let you know that while I might have a sorry reputation with you of just…well, grabbing you and kissing you, that behavior is rather, uh, out of the ordinary for me. And I’m sorry. And I respect you.”
“I know that.” But she looked away, down, as if no, she didn’t know that. As if maybe his words sunk in. Rattled her.
“And I don’t want our friendship to be destroyed because I’m stupid. You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever…well, I don’t want to lose your friendship.”
Boy, was he ever stupid. Because suddenly he saw that he’d made it worse. All worse. She clenched her jaw, looked away from him.
Shoot. But maybe if she understood more— “And, well, I haven’t even dated anyone—you know that—and I don’t want to, I just…well, my job—” Liar, liar, why couldn’t he just tell her the truth? That it wasn’t about his job—maybe it once was, but now it was only about him knowing that he would be in the way of her seeing God, and that it would just get complicated, and that some things were bigger and more important than what he wanted—
“Stop, David. I know.” She put her hand on his cheek.
And just like that, his emotions reached up and grabbed him around the throat, choked him, sucked away his breath. Surely there must be something wrong with him because he wanted to kiss her again. And it just seemed so utterly unfair that he couldn’t take her in his arms and show her, oh, to show her exactly how much he loved her.
But Roman’s words rushed back to him. Not his assurances that he was a man of integrity, but rather the ones that told him that God hadn’t forsaken them.
He was with him, even now, watching. Loving Yanna even more than David did.
So, instead, David swallowed and forced a smile. “Okay,” he said. “Good.” But his voice came out all croaky and raw.
And of all the crazy things, that made her smile. Light even came back into her eyes, that light that had always meant things were sweet and easy between them. She tugged on a stinky sock.
“For your information, I haven’t dated anyone either.” She pulled on the other sock. “And not because of my job, although that’s what I tell people.”
He looked up the road, toward Kwan’s camp. Then back at Yanna, although she was hard to look at without laughing, sitting there in that evening dress, his black socks up to her knees, bagging at the heels. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t ask why.
“I never found anyone who believed in me…like you did.”
Oh. He wasn’t sure what to say, or why his throat tightened, burned. But suddenly he could hardly breathe.
“You always listened to me and made me feel as if I mattered—”
“You do matter.” But he could barely make out his own words, speaking through his sandpaper throat. She touched his arm.
“I know.” She met his eyes. “Really, I know.”
He nodded, unable to speak.
“But I never had anyone who mattered to me—who was family like you and Vicktor and Roman and Mae. When I met you guys, I felt as if I had…I don’t know, siblings, maybe. People that I could count on. And then you walked out of my life—”
She held up her hand to stop his words.
“And Elena took that place. She became my world, my best friend. I want to be that person she can count on. I am going to find my sister, David.”
He got that. Oh, he got that. And he put his hand to her face, running his thumb down her perfect, elegant cheek.
For a moment, she leaned in, a sweetness in her beautiful eyes. Then she took his hand away.
“But listen. I was thinking about what you said, about me being jealous—”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“And I was jealous. Am jealous. And not because my sister thought she found true love. But because she doesn’t have a Boris and a Sasha and a Genye in her life to tell her that…that there is no such thing as a man who will stay.”
Please, God, I so want to be that man. David ran his hand down her arm, caught her hand in his. But even more, I want her to see that You will stay.
“But I want to believe that someday I will find that, David.”
He nodded. “You will,” he said, but it came out barely above a whisper, one that probably she didn’t hear.
Because just then, lights flashed from down the road, followed by an engine, and he grabbed Yanna and pulled her with him down into the brush.
As the car drove by, the phone in his pocket began to beep.
“I think that’s for me,” Yanna said, as she reached inside his jacket and pulled it out. She smiled up at him. “The tracker. My plan worked like a charm.”
Oh yeah, just perfectly.
16
“Where are we going?”
Gracie still had a death grip on the steering wheel, even though they’d left Seattle behind a good hour ago.
“East, we’re headed East.”
Actually, she hadn’t a clue where they might end up. Right now, highway, and lots of it sounded good. She’d get her head together…maybe by the time she hit Montana.
“I’m scared, Gracie. Kosta won’t let me go, he won’t—”
Gracie pried her hand off the wheel, grabbed Ina’s arm. “Shh. You’re going to be safe, I promise.”
“You don’t know him, you don’t know what he does. The only reason I was still at the hotel was because Jorge wouldn’t let him take me. He and Jorge had a terrible fight—I heard it. But Jorge told me that he wasn’t going to let his brother take me. That he was going to find me and we would get marr—”
“Your parents saw Jorge, Ina.” Gracie tried to keep her voice from shaking, and really, she didn’t want to snarl, but how could Ina be so stupid? Didn’t she see that Jorge just wanted her for what she could give him? What he could get out of her? “He said that you weren’t coming back.”
“That’s because he was trying to protect them! He knew that if he told my father where I was, Papa would come there, and get killed. He knew—”
“Jorge was using you, Ina.”
Her words silenced the girl. She folded her arms over her chest, stared out the window. “That’s not true. Jorge loves me.”
Oh yes, because every guy that loved his girl handed her over to his creepy, mafia cousin for what—two hundred bucks? She didn’t even want to think where Ina m
ight have ended up had Gracie not followed her gut.
But, well, now, she needed her gut to really speak up, because she hadn’t the faintest idea what to do next. Mae’s brilliant idea had been to separate, and she would run back to the Ludukos while Gracie disappeared into the hills. They’d call—something that required, uh, the cell phone, which had been so conveniently left in the slimy hotel room back at the Ryss.
Which meant that Gracie hadn’t the foggiest what might have happened to Mae. Yeah, that made her feel ever so happy. She ground her jaw and roared past a slow moving semi truck.
“I’m hungry.” Ina leaned her head back.
Hungry? Gracie wasn’t sure she could ever eat again, having left at least half her stomach back there on the road. “We’ll get supper when we get where we’re going.”
“Which is where? I want to see my father.”
“It’s not safe. Alex said—”
“Who’s Alex?”
“He’s a friend. Of my, well, fiancé’s and he knows Jorge and Sokolov and he’s all about trying to nail them for what they did to you, and hundreds of other girls like you.”
“Jorge is innocent.” Ina glanced at Gracie.
Did this girl have brain damage to go along with her other bruises? “Yeah, sure he is. Because it’s normal for every boyfriend to sell off his girlfriend to the highest bidder.”
Ina’s face tightened.
“But assuming that Jorge was somehow forced into betraying you—his cousin—if they’re even related –obviously isn’t going to want you having a Q & A with anyone from the cops, let alone the media, so I’m trying to get you as far away from trouble as I can.” She sighed. “Which, at the moment, I’m not sure where that might be.”
She flew past another car—a black SUV. Reminded her of all those cop shows that Vicktor loved to watch when he visited. All the tough guys in those shows drove around black Denalis.
Probably she didn’t look so menacing in her 1998 Toyota Camry.
I wish you were here, Vicktor.
Because if Vicktor was here, he’d know what to do. When she’d been on the lam from a serial killer in Russia, he’d been full of super ideas.
Okay, so maybe not. Maybe he did this by the seat of his pants, too. He’d hid her at his father’s house, and her friend’s dacha—
That was it. Gracie glanced at the road sign and cut back into the slow lane, tapped her brakes. She had to get off the 405. Head south.
“What are you going?” Ina said.
“Somewhere we can hide,” Gracie said.
Big surprise, Kwan’s limo led David and Yanna back to his yacht in Taichung. Yanna’s entire body buzzed, and even wearing David’s jacket, she felt numb clear through. Three hours on the back of David’s scooter felt as if she’d logged a thousand hours in the back of a Russian KAMAZ with the top off.
Her insides might still be moving a year from now.
David had parked outside the harbor, hiding his scooter in the tall grass, and they’d hunkered down as the wind washed over them, watching through her cheap opera glasses the patrol of Kwan’s bodyguards as they protected his Highness of Evil. Oh, how she’d wanted to get onto that yacht, put that kitchen knife to Kwan’s throat. Even suggested it.
“No, Yanna. We’ll wait,” David said, bringing down the glasses and giving her a Don’t argue with me look.
Wait, wait for what? For Elena to be shipped off to Thailand or India or some third world country where she’d be caged and forced to…forced to…
“This waiting is killing me,” she said, her knees pulled up to herself, David’s jacket tight around her. “What if we never find her? What if by the time we get to her, it’s too late?” And it didn’t help her discomfort that rocks and gravel embedded her backside, her legs. Or that her feet were ice blocks, even inside David’s threadbare socks.
David looked at her then, a strange expression on his face. “I know, Yanna. I know.”
But that was all he said. Instead, he put his arm around her and pulled her to himself, keeping her warm.
In a way, David had always kept her warm, and right now, as he had his arm curled around her shoulders, pulling her to his amazing chest, smelling of cologne, and perspiration, and even the soap he used in the shower this morning, his words found their way back to her.
I haven’t dated anyone…
He’d been apologizing for kissing her—but she hadn’t heard that. Not at all. Just…he didn’t have anyone in his life either. She hadn’t expected that—well, maybe a little. He might have mentioned it during their online chats. But David was the kind of guy made for commitment, for marriage.
For a family.
He had husband written all over him, with his tenderness, the way he could look into a woman’s soul and make her feel safe. And he would be an incredible father—wise and kind.
When he was home, that was. Because there was the other side of David also. Driven. Dangerous. Focused. The kind of guy who would give his all for his country.
The kind of guy who would also drop everything—his patriotism, his duty, his career, his life—for her.
Which scared her suddenly, more than she could put into words.
She didn’t want this to end. Didn’t want to say goodbye after they found Elena. In fact, if it were possible, she’d stay right here, clutched to his side, anywhere, anyhow, letting him take her on the ride of her life—in a boat, or a motorcycle, in his arms.
The thought made her tremble with how much she wanted it. He must have felt her move because he looked down at her. “What?”
Now she had tears in her eyes and that made her feel even more stupid, so she didn’t look up at him, just buried her face in his chest. “I…” She took a breath. “What happens after we find Elena?” Her voice came out so softly, she wondered if she’d actually spoken the words aloud.
He didn’t get it. “I put you and Elena on a plane, with Roman, and you go back to Siberia.”
She ran her fingers over her eyes. No, she knew that part. And her silence must have confused him because he pushed her away, pulled her up. The moonlight touched his beautiful face, highlighted his eyes, and the concern in them filled her throat with a tightness she’d never felt before. Oh, she loved him. The magnitude of it washed over her. It wasn’t a crush—had never been a crush—but until this moment, she hadn’t realized how it would tear out her heart to leave him. Again.
Her breath caught and she felt like a fool when tears glazed her eyes. She looked away, wiping them, but he caught her hand. “What?”
“I just—” This shouldn’t be so hard. He knew her better than anyone, probably. Except maybe this part, the part she should probably simply accept.
She wanted to spend her life with this man. She didn’t care what she had to surrender.
Where she had to live. Even, perhaps, what she had to believe.
Oh brother, was she pitiful.
He touched her chin, brought her face back to look at him, ran a thumb down her cheek. “You are so beautiful, Yanna.” And then, as if he might be thinking and feeling exactly the same things, he leaned down and kissed her, ever so sweetly, gently.
She was crying now, her tears salty in their mouths. She put her hands on his chest and pushed away, not looking at him. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly.
She looked up at him. “No, I mean after this. I don’t want to go back to messaging and wondering where you are. I want…” She searched his eyes, those devastating eyes, and it all caught in her throat, her longing, her fears.
“What…what do you want?”
You. “I want you to be safe.” I want you to be the man I come home to every night. Or vice versa. Or both.
He sighed, wrapped his arm back around her, pulling her again close. “Ditto.”
And there it was, glaring and painful, like a skewer to her heart, why they could never have more than this moment.
Because the
ir world wouldn’t let them. And probably, David saw the same thing. “Do you ever dream of getting out of the military? Of…getting…married?” She could hardly believe she’d asked that, but she let the words sift into the breeze, feeling him take them in on his breath.
“Yes.”
Yes.
“Me too,” she said, so quietly she surprised even herself. And then, she realized that perhaps she wasn’t surprised at all.
David would probably never erase the image of Yanna wrapped in his coat, nestled close, falling asleep in his arms.
Nor would he forget the taste of her lips on his. He wasn’t sure why he’d kissed her again. Or why she hadn’t stopped him.
But seeing her tears, even if they had been all about worry for her sister, and probably even some fatigue, had only made him realize everything they couldn’t have.
Wouldn’t have.
Do you ever dream of getting out of the military? Of…getting…married?
Oh yes. In fact, to her. But he wasn’t free to say that.
And when she’d replied, Me too, jealousy’s sharp fingers drove into his heart.
Lately, over the past seventy-two hours, he’d begun to think about being her husband, more and more, until it consumed him. Waking up beside her, teaching their children to hunt and fish, to make pancakes—he was a firm believer in equipping all children with life skills. But most of all, seeing Yanna become the amazing mother he knew she would be. Behind all those smarts and beauty, Yanna had a gentleness and commitment that would make her the top in yet another field.
But…and there it was, the big, looming, ugly but of his life. He was military to the core. It was all he had, all he did. He didn’t know how to do anything else. And he’d take bets that Yanna didn’t either. Would their countries even allow them to be on the same soil—even if they did resign? Cold War over or not, suspicions simmered under the surface of every political conversation, waiting to be stirred.
Run to You Page 21
