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He mimicked the motion as we walked back to the maze entrance. It was a good thing he remembered where we were going because I didn’t have a clue. If I was the one navigating, we’d probably end up further inside the maze.
Surprisingly, he didn’t yank away from me as soon as we were back in public view. There were more people now that it was later in the day, but he stayed right there, glued to my side until we reached his SUV. He even opened the door for me, which made me blush and grin like an idiot. Sometimes it was hard reconciling the different versions of him — the terrifying criminal who could literally peel someone’s face off and not even blink an eye and the gentlemen he could be when absolutely no one from his world was around.
“You know I love you,” Sasha said once we were in the car and making our way out of the parking lot.
“God, I love you too… You sweet, sugary, ring of goodness. I’m going to—”
He hit the brakes, his head whipping toward me.
I froze, my mouth hovering right above another cider donut. Raising my brows, I gave him a dazzling smile. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“I hate you,” he said, stomping on the gas. Once we were on the road, he reached for my hand, so I laid it flat against my thigh, waiting. Except, his hand kept going, headed toward my dick... or the box of donuts in my lap. He fished one out of the box and shot me a look out of the corner of his eye.
I gaped at him in faux outrage. “Thief.”
“You know I am.” Taking a bite, he threw me a smirk and turned the car eastbound for Chicago.
Laughing, I moved the box of donuts to the backseat and rested my elbow on the center console, draping my hand across his thigh. “You want to come back next week? We can get some pumpkins for the balcony. Oh, and we can pick apples.”
“You want to pick your own apples instead of buying them from the store?” He snorted and shook his head. “Only if you make a cake with them.”
“Uh, no. A pie. We’re in America, you heathen.”
He made a face at me. “Who wants a pie? A cake is better. And you can use the fucking honey I just paid an arm and a leg for.”
“It’s organic and locally grown,” I replied with an angelic smile, as if that completely justified the outrageously priced goo.
He rolled his eyes, taking another bite out of the donut, probably in an attempt to stifle whatever comeback was circling his head.
“You know I love you,” I quoted, running my fingers through his hair and caressing the close-cut part toward the bottom where it faded to bare skin.
Leaning over, he stole a quick kiss. “I know.”
20
SASHA
Eduard called rightas I pulled up in front of a shitty looking two-story on the South Side. I parked the van in front of the vacant house next door and answered, flicking my cigarette out the window.
“Where are you?” Eduard asked.
“Out.”
“Can you talk?”
“Why?”
“Kazimir Belov landed in New York three hours ago.”
My eyes rolled skyward and I swore silently. “Where is he now?” Three hours might not have seemed like a lot of time, but it was. He could be practically anywhere, by any means of transportation. Tracking all of the planes, trains, and cars out of New York would be nearly impossible.
“No one knows.”
“Fuck...”
“I’m keeping an eye on his financials. As soon as I know something, I’ll call you. Misha’s looking for him too, by the way. He’s not very happy.”
“Because of Daria?”
