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“What happened to the other place?” Roan asked quietly, interrupting the flurry of questions in my head.
“We don’t use it anymore.”
“Does Sergei know we’re down here?”
I nodded. Of course Sergei knew. Sergei knew everything. As soon as he caught wind Phillip’s bank was being investigated by FBI, he tasked Misha with getting to the bottom of it. I vowed to get him answers personally. Little did I realize the answers were right in front of me the whole goddamn time.
Needless to say, when I approached Sergei about bringing Phillip here, he was all too happy to give me free rein.
“It doesn’t smell the same,” Roan said distractedly, touching a large, dirty pipe and frowning at the black smudges on his fingertips. “It is cold, though.”
Uncrossing my arms, I approached him slowly, afraid to make any sudden movements around him like a frightened horse. “You don’t need to be here for this.”
He looked up, the frown deepening. “Yes, I do.”
“I don’t want you to—” Shaking my head, I cut myself off and looked at the chainlink cage I’d welded together just days ago. I didn’t want to bring up anything that might upset him, but this whole situation was bound to stir up memories and feelings, things best left alone. It did for me and I wasn’t the one who had been kidnapped. “This whole thing is fucked up. Andthisis fucked up” — I gestured between us — “I know that. I don’t expect you to forget, but I don’t want you to relive what happened.”
“I don’t blame you for any of that,” Roan said, his voice soft.
“You should.” What the fuck was I even saying? Why would I encourage him to hate me and fucking leave? God, I couldn’t even look at him anymore. Dragging a hand down my face, I turned my back to him and exhaled a sharp breath.
A moment later, his hands slipped around my waist and crossed over my abdomen. The warmth from the rest of his body pressed into my back. “Do you love me?”
I turned in his arms, brow furrowed. When he blinked back at me, I flung a hand toward the crate. What the fuck kind of a question was that? I said I did. Twice. Sort of three times. How many more times did I need to say it? Wasn’t this whole fucked-up situation enough to show him how much I loved him? That I would risk going back to prison just to make him happy?
He glanced in the direction I indicated, clearly unimpressed, or unmoved by the gesture. “Sasha, do you love me?”
“Of course I fucking love you!”
“Then forget the rest, because it doesn’t matter.”
“Itdoesmatter.”
“I love you and you love me. That’s all I care about.”
“But—”
“No. No ‘buts.’” He stretched up and kissed me, pulling away all too soon with a soft sigh. “Now let’s get this asshole out of the box.”
26
ROAN
Seeingmy dad passed out inside a legit dog kennel was fucking surreal. If he kept his head bent, he had enough room to stand, but no matter how he laid, he wouldn’t be able to stretch out completely. Sasha gave him the illusion of space, when in reality he had none. It was reminiscent of my childhood the longer I thought about it.
“Now what?” I asked.
“You can leave him like that, or we can take his clothes off. Your call.”
Well, that wasn’t helpful. I bit my lips, trying to decide. “What made you leave my clothes on?”
Sasha cleared his throat and looked away, scratching the back of his neck. He didn’t blush, but he looked like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
Saving him the embarrassment of pressing for an actual answer, I made my own decision. “Ok, off. Mostly. I don’t need to see all of that,” I said, waving a hand toward my dad’s groin.
Nodding, he slipped a knife out of his pocket and flicked it open with an expert motion that was strangely hot. A couple of quick slashes later and he ripped off all of the clothes except for Dad’s briefs.
Ducking out of the cage with the wad of clothing tucked under his arm, he said, “I’m going to burn these.” He was two steps away when he stopped abruptly and gave me a stern look. “Do not open that door.”
