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“But it’s still carrying cargo,” he replies, waving his hand in a dismissive manner, as though his statement justifies the speed at which we’re traveling. He hates being wrong, but I find it more endearing than annoying, especially when he falls against a cabin door the moment the train swerves to the right.
He curses under his breath, walking noticeably faster.
When we arrive in the control room, I find everything as I left it, save for the gauge for the fuel level, which is dangerously low. I didn’t realize how much fuel we had used until now. It’s a good thing we’re getting more, because we’d never make it to Texas at this rate.
“How many miles to the drop zone, exactly?” I ask as I slip into my seat.
“Probably eighteen now,” he says, glancing at his phone.
I nod, leaning back a bit in my seat. “I’m not going to slow it down now, but it takes about two miles to stop at the speed we’re going. If you want to be precise about where we stop, though, we might want to slow down three miles before the drop zone.”
“That’s fine,” he says, but his expression is twisted in palpable concern.
“Is that too much?”
“We’ll have to take the risk. I doubt Lorenzo and his goons will be able to catch up to us so quickly. They know where we are, but it’s more likely they’re going to try to cut us off before we arrive in Texas. They won’t be anticipating this stop.”
My stomach drops, and the coldness of the room bleeds in through the loose sleeves of my oversized coat. “Will they be able to cut us off?” I ask.
He lays his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it firmly. This time, the heat of his skin does little to warm me. “There’s a chance, yes. We must be prepared for anything.”
That wasn’t the answer I wanted, but at least he’s being honest with me. It means I can trust him, and that’s the most important thing. Emotions are fleeting, but trust and loyalty are the paradigm for a stable relationship.
Jasha leans into my ear, his breath sending a fresh wave of nervousness through my body. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Lola. I promise.”
I look up at him, feeling shy from how close he is and looking down at my lap after just a second. No matter how many times I’m intimate with him, it’s still overwhelming to meet his gaze.
“I trust you,” I whisper, speaking into my laps instead of at him.
He squeezes my shoulder again, a bit softer this time. “We’re in this together. You’re part of the Family now, just like Nikolai and his wife and child. We take care of our own in the Bratva.”
The coldness in the room is replaced by the burning heat of realization. He really is serious about me being part of the Bratva now, for better or for worse. I’m in this with him, and his problems are mine now, including the Italians.
But with danger comes protection, and there’s nobody I’d rather have on my side than Jasha and his men. They’re dangerous and capable, a formidable enemy and a powerful ally. I couldn’t be in better hands.
“Maybe you should learn how to shoot, though,” Jasha says in an absentminded way.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I spin around in my chair to face him fully. “What?!”
He looks a bit startled. “Oh, I was saying that maybe it would be a good idea. Not now, of course. There’s no time to teach you enough to be helpful, but… eventually you should know.”
“I’m not shooting people,” I say, feeling a new kind of heat run through my body.
“I’d prefer if you were able to,” he replies. It’s clear that he doesn’t see anything wrong with that. He’s even confused that I’m so bothered by it.
“Okay, so here’s the thing,” I begin, knowing I’m going to have to break this down for him so that he can realize what he’s asking of me. “I’ve been happily living my life without the need for a gun since forever. I’ve never felt like I needed one, and it’s not just because there was a guard on the train. I just don’t put myself in situations that are dangerous enough to warrant me having to shoot someone.”
“I’m not saying itwillhappen.”
“You’re saying itcouldhappen, and that’s already too much for me. I’m not used to this Bratva thing. This isn’t how I was raised.”
He still isn’t convinced, and I can see it written all over his face. He looks like someone is yanking out his chest hairs. “Just give it try sometime. I’m going to protect you, but everyone in the Bratva is armed. Even Nikolai’s wife is.”
“And her baby, too?” I ask sarcastically.
“When she’s old enough, yes,” he replies weakly.
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure Nikolai’s wife is a huge fan of that idea.”
