Page 33 of Unbroken

"Well?"

"I think it's your starter. I don't see any indication that anybody fucked around with it.Yet.”

"So we will call a tow truck or?—"

"No. I'll have Matvei come pick it up. He'll take a closer look. You'll ride on the back of my bike, and I'll take you home."

What does "home" mean? Does he mean he'll take me back to his house, the Kopolov family house? Or back to my apartment?

Does it matter?

I need to get out of here.

“You’re not driving this,” he growls.

I open my mouth to argue.

“Notnegotiable.” His voice is steel. Final. Not just because he’s in control but because he cares in that brutal, infuriating way that makes me want to both scream and melt all at once.

And goddammit, why does that make me feel safe?

So I do the only sensible thing. I nod my head and agree. Still… “But I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”

His brows quirk up. “Really? It’s easy. I’ll help you.”

I'm not even sure my sister ever rode on one either. She was terrified of motorcycles and hated that he drove one, but finally caved when she saw how much joy it brought him. He has one of those thick, sturdy ones, and it's so fucking beautiful, all shining black and silvery chrome. I run a finger over the black edge of a tire and don't realize he's watching till the corner of his lips quirks. He wipes his hand with a rag.

"Where did you get that?" I ask him.

"I keep them with me," he says, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

I keep lip gloss in my purse, and he keeps rags on his motorcycle.

All right then. Fine.

Why is it so sexy watching him step back from the hood of the car and wipe grease off his big, manly hands? His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, his collar undone, revealing tanned skin and tats.

Okay. All right.

Time to pull myself together.

So Vadka is anobjectivelyattractive male.Fact. I'd have to be a fuckingmoronnot to see it.

Also fact: He was marriedto my sister. Should that gross me out? No idea.

Does it? Sigh. No.

Does it make me feel guilty?Guilty as fuck. Why?

Am I attracted to him? No question. I’m practically schoolgirl-crushing on the guy.

So the next question is… Is he attracted tome?

I saw him fall in love with my sister. I saw how much he adored her. I was with him the day she was shot, andI watchedas she died in his arms. And I will never, ever, as long as I live, forget the sound of him screaming, trying tosave her, begging for help—that sound that haunts me to this day.

I look away from him. I wish we could erase that night, not just because Mariah should be here with us, but because I don’t want to relive that pain over and over and over again, just like I do every time I’m with him.

Then why does it feel like he’s the only one who understands that there’s a hole in my heart that will never be filled again—not by anyone?

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