Page 27 of Lethal Abduction

As I drive into town, my head whirls with all the things I’d love to tell Mum.

Most of all, I wish I could tell her about Dimitry.

Malaga, Spain

Two years ago

Dimitry is bratva.

I knew it before that night at Pillars. I knew what he was the moment I saw him.

I just didn’twantto know.

I clean the café prior to closing with fierce efficiency, almost relishing the manual work.

What is wrong with me, that I only attract criminals?

Should I be doing some kind of self-improvement work, some inner transformation? Do I possess a subconscious urge which draws me to criminals, and them to me?

Is it my fault?

For days after Dimitry put me over his shoulder and dumped me in the car, I twisted on a rack of self-recrimination. Despite spending two years in a Bogotá prison and then running thousands of miles to a new country, somehow I’ve found myself back in the middle of a criminal organization.

That has to be on me. I have to take responsibility for that.

But up until Dimitry threw me into that car, I clung to the hope that maybe we could just have some kind of brief fling. No future, just fun.

And, God, I wanted that.

I still do. It isn’t just the fact that Dimitry is my own personal brand of sexual kryptonite. It isn’t just his height and strength, the hard, slightly worn features that for some reason make my heart twist. It isn’t only his sloping gray eyes, which are deceptively lazy but miss nothing at all. It’s not even his perpetual air of wariness, like he sees everything before it happens and is constantly prepared for anything he doesn’t.

It’s the way he makes me laugh. The edge of uncertainty Isense behind his undeniably tough exterior. The vulnerability I can feel in his touch, in the way he genuinely seems to crave a connection with me as much as I do with him.

And, yes, it’s also the savage arousal I feel every time he gets even close to touching me.

But then there are the Colombians I saw in Pillars. And not just any Colombians either. I didn’t spend two years selling drugs for the Cardeñases without knowing cartel guys when I see them.

And whether these ones belong to Rodrigo or someone else, I need to be nowhere near them.

On top of that, Lance fucking Ryder has been taking Miguel’s photograph every chance he gets, which means he’s been taking mine, too. My face on the internet isn’t a risk I can afford to take.

Not ever.

The fact is that dangerous people are always going to be looking for me.

Which is why I absolutely have to cut ties with Dimitry.

If the Cardeñas cartel finds me in Malaga, they will take me without a second’s thought. And if I allow myself to get involved with Dimitry, then the honor of the Stevanovsky clan will be at stake. That means war.

And there’s no chance I’m going to be the person who starts a war. Particularly not a war that will endanger Lucia, who I love like a sister. Or Dimitry, who I...

Who I really fucking like.

Whether I want to admit it or not.

My phone buzzes. It’s a message from Miguel:on my way to see you.

Fuck.I almost throw the phone back on the café counter.

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