Page 19 of Cruel Russian King
Was I being followed?
I bent to ‘fix’ my jeans, subtly glancing over my shoulder. Feet moved around me…except one pair.
Shit.
I straightened, forcing a casual composure. Instead of the gallery, I steered toward a bookstore near the police station. It was three blocks away and I just hoped I’d make it.
I didn’t have any numbers saved at the top of my head to ask someone to call for help, and I couldn’t risk going into the station. I didn’t know which officers were on Artyom’s payroll and which weren’t. If they identified me, I wasn’t sure they wouldn’t try to pin a crime on me just to settle a score with Lev or the Rykovs since everyone knew about our alliance. Bratva or not, not every cop’s palm was greased to turn the other cheek.
With every step, my heart thumped harder, rattling against my ribs. I struggled to keep my composure, but after two minutes I had to speed up. Training drilled into me not to panic, that panic clouds judgment, and that gets you killed. I inhaled sharply, forcing my legs to move faster without tripping over the panic that was indeed rising in my chest.
Yet part of me burned with curiosity. Who was following me? Most stores had back exits. If I could slip through one and catch them from behind…maybe I could get a glimpse.
With that plan in mind, I quickened my pace. Without waiting for the lights to change, I darted across the streets, leaving angry honks in my wake. Ignoring them, I quickly made my way to the fourth small store and ducked into it. My pulse slammed in my ears as I hustled toward the door marked‘Employees Only’ and ran to the back door before any employee could notice.
I stepped out into the alley, just about to break into a run, when an iron-hand clamped onto my arm.
Instinctively, I tightened my grip on the keys between my fingers and swung around, aiming for their face. But before I could connect, my arms were pinned behind my back, and I was pressed against a muscular chest. My stomach dropped and I felt bile rising in my throat.
Then a familiar, intoxicating scent filled my senses overriding the stench of the dumpster close by, and a low whisper caressed my ear, “Were you really naive enough to think I’d let you roam my territory unmonitored?”
“Artyom?” My voice cracked, a mix of relief and disbelief.
He released me, and I spun around, shaking from adrenaline.
“Why would you freak me out like that?” I snapped, trying to mask the flutter I felt when our eyes locked.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to head out today?” His voice had an edge to it, one I had heard before. One that said he was at the end of his rope.
But, I didn't care. I was still running on adrenaline and my fear evaporated and in its place anger was planted.
“Yesterday should’ve been an indication I was going bored out of my mind after our discussion!” I threw my hands in the air frustratedly.
I couldn’t believe it! Here I’d thought I was in danger, and it was him! Following me like a damn stalker! Who the hell does that?
Artyom.
“We also spoke about having sex, but I don’t see you dragging me to bed,” he growled.
“I thought you didn’t mean it like that!”
Shit. Had he changed his mind?
“I didn’t!” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out through his mouth.
His gaze raked over me like a light breeze over hot coals. I swallowed hard as frustration and anger painted themselves in the lines on his face. Then his eyes locked onto mine with such intensity that a shiver slid down my spine.
I stumbled back a step as his brows furrowed.
“Why aren’t you in the outfit I picked for you today?”
Was he serious right now?
“Because a fitted dress isn’t exactly the right thing to wear while exploring. In case I ran into trouble.”
His mouth curved in a humorless smile. “You broke Scott’s nose while wearing a dress.”
“That was different.”
