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But in the distance, I could hear people yelling. The new visitor must have caused a stir, but then Konstantin ran back into the room, his eyes wide. “You’re married?” he blurted.
I blinked. “Sorry?” I must have misheard him.
Two men I didn’t know ran after him, followed by my father, who looked pale and worried. “Bridget, what have youdone?”
What did I do?Nothing. I was being held captive by the Russian mob, or had he forgotten the circumstances he used to really fuck up my life?
A tall man stormed past everyone, including Konstantin’s father, who I had only seen once before, followed by a really pissed off looking Michael Li. I rose on unsteady legs, scanning the room again. What was he doing there?What is happening?
Michael didn’t look different than normal—black suit, black tie, with a beautiful face, his high cheekbones and those glinting dark eyes always implying he was the smartest person in the room.
In every room.
I caught my breath, hoping to get his attention. “Michael?”
“Darling,” he crooned, and his use of the nickname startled me. He’d confessed his love to me once—I had run from the declaration, and we for sure didn’t share the kind of relationship that involved pet names. Not at all. If anything, he seemed to take extra care about always using my whole name.Bridgetsounded somehow long and important when he spoke the word, especially when he clipped off the t at the end as if it were a curse.
He continued, his gaze soft and full of concern I didn’t buy. He said, “Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”
“They better not have hurt her.” The tall man who led Michael into the room spoke English with a heavy Russian accent. “I thought I made myself clear? The Radford girls were not to be touched. I wasmorethan clear.”
I abruptly realized the tall man’s identity—Artyom Lebedev, the head of the Bratva himself. Max must have pulled all kinds of strings to garner protection from him. Hope never told me what Max did, and I wasn’t one to pry. They could keep their secrets, but it didn’t explain why Michael would call me darling. Artyom rounded on Konstantin’s father. “And, you! You take her from her husband. On their honeymoon?”
The room fell silent, until my father finally broke the tension with a loud curse. “What the fuck is he talking about?”
Michael held out his hand. “Bridget, you look terrified. Come to me. They aren’t going to hurt you anymore.”
I wasn’t always fast on the uptake, but I finally understood. We were playing a game, and he needed me to play along. I rushed to him, but rather than take his hand, I threw my arms around his neck and held on tightly. I’d never hugged Michael before, although I fought off the temptation. Many times, if I were entirely honest. Hugging wasn’t really the proper greeting for a bodyguard. We’d met when I was little more than a teenager myself, although he claimed his feelings for me grew over time—regardless, I never touched him before in any way other than professionally.
Michael smelled fantastic; why had I never noticed it before? Clean, like soap, as though he’d showered recently. Or maybe he just smelled wonderfully of cleanliness all day. I never cared for the chemical or perfumed smell of most colognes, so I found his scent both tempting and tantalizing.
His arms came around me, warm and strong, and he held on as tightly as I did. Despite the façade, I sighed out a breath as Isettled into his embrace. He repeated, “They aren’t going to hurt you anymore.”
“She said nothing about being married, not one word,” my father spat. “And toyou? The bodyguard? I don’t believe it.”
My father relied on Michael every day, but he would act like he was somehow better than him? I rolled my eyes. Not that anyone would mistake my father for being the better man. My father was a felon hiding in Russia while Michael was a hero who had fought for his country, been awarded medals for his service, and kept people alive for a living, running a very successful security firm. He was respected around the world, while my father was a crook.
I lifted my head. “Don’t talk about my husband with anything but respect. You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you. The reason I didn’t tell you was—” I abruptly stopped speaking, because I didn’t have an answer.Shit, I’m a bad liar.
“Because she was protecting my cover. Bridget knows better than to trust any of you. Why would she share our secret?” He pulled a gold band out of his pocket, slipping it on my finger easily. “Your diamond is at home, but I brought you this.”
I could overthink the small details, like how he guessed my ring size, later. At the moment, I recognized we weren’t yet out of the woods. “I told you I couldn’t marry him. That I wouldn’t. It should have been enough, Dad.” I hoped the hitch in my voice made me sound upset rather than trembling in panic. I could never, ever be a spy or anything like that, I realized.
No one was going to give me an Academy Award, either.
Everything changed to Russian, the guttural cadence of the language filling the room with incomprehensible sound. Even my father joined in while Justin looked left and right, following the conversation.
I stared up at Michael, not sure what any of it meant. He answered something in Russian, and I gritted my teeth at beingthe only one in the room who didn’t understand while being the focus of their conversation.
Instead of being able to speak in my own defense, I remained totally clueless. “What are they saying?” I asked Michael, hoping he’d catch me up.
He didn’t answer. Instead, with a swiftness that spoke of years of training, Michael shoved me behind him before he backed us both out of the room. Guns fired, and my heart stuttered in my chest. People yelled, raised voices emerged all around me, and my head went blank. Who’d shot who? Why were they shooting? Michael pulled out his gun, and I heard him squeeze off two rounds. I stared at his action from behind, my mouth hanging open in shock.
With a tug, he got us both back into motion. I stumbled a step, but then I moved alongside him easily. Running felt like the right thing to do in the moment. “This way, Bridget. Come on. Go.” His words weren’t shouted, but they were firm and unyielding. The seriousness of his tone pulled me slightly out of my stupor but not totally.
“Boss?” a man said from where he stood on the street. I didn’t recognize him, but Michael turned us in his direction. Two guys jumped out of the car behind him, guns out.
Were they going to shoot at us?
