Page 13 of Brutal Secrets

I look over at the sleeping girl in the seat next to me as we pull off the highway and into the woods. The darkness of the winter roads stills my mind as the white birch trunks flash past me. I’ve sent the driver home. I don’t want to share these hours with anyone else, even if she’s fast asleep.

She’s curled in my coat, her wavy hair a gold-streaked cloud above her cheekbones. I don’t know much about her and I won’t have time to find out, but it’s probably better that way. I wouldn’t chance bringing her to the dacha otherwise. Too many painful memories.

This place belongs to the Night Governor, but Sasha and our friends use it. I never really understood what Guelman saw in a bunch of no-hopers from the same orphanage. He’s a sick fuck, but in a twisted way, I’m grateful to him.

The only one of us that didn’t belong in that godforsaken children’s home was Sasha’s sister, Polina. She was too beautiful and gentle for that damned place or this blasted city. I don’t think we’ve brought a woman here since Polina. The house probably smells of men’s socks and stale beer.

I look over at my little songbird. She’s wearing my coat, but her legs stick out the bottom, amid a clatter of beads and chains. I’m just thinking about stripping off her layers when the phone rings.

“Vadim, you still in town or did you leave?” Sasha’s voice stretches out across the darkness.

“I’m on the way to the dacha. Almost there.” My eyes scan the lines of snow-crusted branches and the white flash of birch trunks. “Trouble?”

“Nothing has blown up yet. Antonov is talking with the Night Governor. I’m going to lie low and hope I don’t have to go to the ass end of Siberia. It’s probably good that you’re out of town. Is she with you?”

“Yeah, fast asleep. I think the time difference knocked her out.” I keep my eyes on the dark road as trees flash by the windows.

“What’s the attraction? She’s not your usual type. Since when do you hang out with sleeping women? Aren’t you usually in and out too quickly for anyone to catch any shut-eye?” He chuckles to himself at his poor joke. Sasha’s no better with women than I am, but he’s a handsome fucker, so he’s not spoiled for choice.

“Maybe it’s a palate cleanser. I like it out in the woods, and it’s not like I can bring Oksana or one of the other dancers out here. Sleeping or awake, there would be drama, and then they’d get ideas and I’d never be able to shake them off. This is simple. I’m putting her on a plane on Sunday. A nice, clean break. I can come back into town when I drop her off.”

“I’ll let you know,” he clips out.

Hanging up the phone, I listen to the snowbound silence and the ticking of the engine. I can hear her soft breathing next to me. I’m playing at being someone else: the kind of man who does good turns for women without expecting something in return. It’s a game, but it’s a game I can play a couple of hands of this weekend.

I know it can’t last.

I glance down at the sleeping woman at my side as night shrouds the trees. There’s nothing but headlights on the snow and the soft sound of her breath next to me and the rapid beating of my heart. For the next twenty-four hours, I can be anyone. If that’s not a fairy tale, then I don’t know what is.

Chapter Ten

Ifeel like I’m swimming into consciousness through deep, dark water as a giant hand rolls my shoulder back and forth.

“Wake up, zolotaya. We’ve only got about four hours of daylight left. The sun goes down early here in winter.”

I screw up my eyes against the light. “Why is it so bright?” I croak.

“The light reflects off the snow. We need to get into the woods while we can.”

I roll over to see Vadim towering above me like some ancient god of snow and ice. He’s wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants as he swims into view through the haze of sleep, the sharp lines of his torso becoming more defined. His chest is marked by tattoos of stars and a cat’s head, and a couple of sharp scars sweep down one arm and across his midriff. His body is different from the gym boys with their protein shakes back home.

Harder.

Sexier.

More threatening.

“Move over.” He pats the sliver of white sheet at the edge of the bed, and I make room, staring at the ceiling. He lies beside me, not touching me. In the eerie light of the cabin, we’re two strangers again, the intimacy of last night gone like footprints under fresh snow. The inches between us feel like miles.

My throat is scratchy with sleep and my eyes feel puffy, but I can smell the forest on his skin, mingling with the scent of soap and mint. It makes me want to burrow against his side, but he lies rigidly next to me, tense and waiting.

I take a deep breath and wrinkle my nose, coughing as the exhaustion of the days, weeks, and months catches up with me.

“What can you smell? Day-old vodka and men’s socks?” He chuckles.

“Hmmm,” I hum, inhaling deeply. “You smell of cedar and pine with an undertone of sandalwood and pheromones.”

“Really? You got all that from one sniff?” He stills as my pinkie edges along the side of his hand.

---