Page 184 of Pervade London
I read the painful truth in his eyes. “Did he kill your wife?”
He looked away. “I don’t blame you for coming here tonight.”
I shook my head. “You were always going to leave.”
“Let’s get you home safe.”
I moved quickly to block the door. “I can’t be without you, James.”
He trapped me between him and the exit, peering down with an intensity that burned me up from the inside out. Cupping my face and leaning in, he pressed his lips to mine. His tongue slipped inside my mouth, searching and comforting, then he nipped my bottom lip before pulling away.
Don’t let this be goodbye.
“What will you do?”
“You’re my priority. I’ll remain in the shadows.” He opened the door and motioned me ahead. “I’ll be right behind you. At the top of the stairs, head left. That’s the way back to your cabin.” His lips quirked in amusement as he handed my violin and bow back to me. “And Em, goleft.”
It made me smile.
Leaving him was the hardest thing I’d ever done, or so it felt. The distance feeling eternal with each step I took as I ascended the staircase. I turned left and made my way along the back of the boat, my precious instrument clasped tightly against me.
A shadowy figure strolled around the corner.
Ivor Mikhail.
I flinched under his stare.
His face wore an amused expression as he came closer. “Ah, the violinist,” he said, his accent thick as he checked around to make sure we were alone. “Do I know you?”
ThisI’d read about—the men of the KGB were capable of anything from blackmail to kidnapping to assassinations, and he was one of them.
He rapidly closed the gap between us, backing me up against the balustrade and towering over me.
He glanced at where my nametag should be. “Why are you looking at me like that? Like you know me…”
A voice from behind us snapped, “Get away from her.”
Ivor spun to look at James. A flash of recognition.
James threw a look of reassurance my way. “This was inevitable.”
Ivor’s gaze snapped back to my face as though trying to connect us.
“Step back,” seethed James as he placed a fingertip to his ear. “Do you copy?” He gave a nod as though hearing confirmation. “Three minute window. Stern. Portside.”
Ivor’s attack on James was swift. He maneuvered closer, first throwing a strong punch and then swinging a kick that proved he’d been trained in hand-to-hand combat.
James landed a strike to Ivor’s gut. The man doubled over and then sprang up, knocking James against the wall and landing a blow to his jaw.
“I’ll get help,” I called out.
“No,” snapped James.
The men gripped each other’s collars as they spun violently toward a wall. Ivor tripped and his phone slipped from his pocket. He went to grab it and James pulled him back.
They tumbled through a doorway that opened up into a deserted dining room.
James leaped to his feet in one sleek move and swung his leg up and around in mid-air, aiming for the man’s neck.
