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Walk away, Sasha. Just walk the fuck away. It was what I told myself time and again, and time and again I came right back to him, like a magnet.
“I can’t.” The admission was barely audible.
“I’m not doing this with you again.Ican’t,” he said, the muscles tensing along his shoulders. “Do you understand?Ican’t play this game with you anymore. Will I see him again or won’t I? Will he stay or is he going back to Russia? You’re so fucking confusing!”
As soon as I was sure he quit talking, I closed the gap between us and took his face between my hands, pressing my lips against his.
Initially, he stiffened against me, upholding his angry declaration. But the more I kissed him, the more I pressed my body against his, trapping him between myself and his car, the more he relaxed. His hands slipped around my waist and up my back, pulling me closer, if it was possible.
The fact we were out in public made my heart stutter, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. He was like a drug I couldn’t kick. I tried, and failed. I didn’t want to try anymore. I didn’t care if I went straight to Hell. Roan was the first good thing in my life and I wasn’t going to give him up.
As much as it pained me, I broke away from his mouth to give my lungs the oxygen they needed. Resting my forehead against his, I closed my eyes, keeping my hands on either side of his face. “I’m not going anywhere, Solnyshko.”
“Do I want to know what you just called me?” The sparkle was back in his eyes, my little sun once more. Hopefully the storm clouds were gone for good.
Chuckling, I kissed his lips gently. “Probably not.”
“Is it bad?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t care.” He grinned, kissing me again while his hand slipped into my front pocket. A second too late, I felt the flash drive move. Pulling back with a smirk, he held it up between two fingers. “Idowant to know what’s on this, though.”
“You and me both.”
“Come back to the house with me. We can look at it there.” I made a face, but he melted my defenses with a bright smile. “Trust me.”
I nodded, despite the knot in the pit of my stomach.
37
Roan
For the first time,I actually saw Sasha hesitate. It happened in the garage when I got out of the car. Again, in the mud room when he kicked off his boots, and a third time when we cut through the house for my dad’s office.
“I don’t know about this,” he said, hanging back in the hallway.
“It’s fine. Patricia is the only one here,” I replied. When he didn’t start walking again, I slipped my hand into his and tugged him forward.
“Why don’t we go back to my place? I have a laptop.”
“Trust me on this one,” I murmured, dropping into Dad’s oversized leather chair and scooting closer to his computer. “We can go there as soon as we see what’s on here.”
Once the jump drive was in and formatted, the files popped up on the screen. I couldn’t read shit — it was all in Cyrillic. With a shrug, I clicked one, unleashing a series of documents and photographs onto the screen.
Sasha said something in Russian and leaned forward, bracing one hand on the desk next to me and staring at the screen. He looked more pissed than usual, which I didn’t realize was possible until that moment.
“What is it?” I asked.
“That one.” He pointed at another folder.
I obliged and opened the file, surprised when Sasha’s face popped up. It was a series of booking photos, but definitely ones from Russia. In addition to capturing the angles of his face, they catalogued all of his tattoos. He didn’t have the wolf’s head yet, or the stars on his chest. “When was this?”
“Ten years ago,” he answered flatly, pointing to another folder.
I opened that as well. It was Sasha again, but this one was definitelynota booking photo. It might have been the one that led to a booking photo for all I knew.
Instead of wearing a striped prison uniform, he was dressed in a dark shirt, partially unbuttoned, and white pants. Even in a photograph, I could tell they were tight as hell. It reminded me of what you’d wear to a club. He looked amazing, all except for the gun he had pointed at someone’s head.
