Page 22 of The Enemy Protector
“That’s an excellent deal.”
“It could be.”
“And you’re still not taking it.”
I open my eyes and look at him. “No.”
Kirill nods once. “This is about her.”
“This is about Yuri as a variable I haven’t mastered yet. I need to find out what Yuri is really hiding. Keep him talking. Make him think I’m considering his offer while I figure out what he’s actually planning.”
“And Sofia?”
“I don’t know.”
Those three little words are dangerous. Kirill doesn’t say what we both know. I don’t get to stay divided on this. The decision comes now.
7
Sofia
I don’t love running. I love what it gives me. Endurance. Speed. The satisfaction of knowing that if someone ever came after me, I would not go down easily.
Anton runs twelve feet behind me. Close enough to react, far enough that I can pretend I’m alone.
We’ve had the same route for two months. I know every crack in the pavement. I know which trees have exposed roots worth avoiding, which stretches get slick when it’s damp. I know the usual runners.
My earbuds are in, but the volume is low. Force of habit. I don’t like not being able to hear. But I don’t want people to assume I’m approachable. I push hard, smiling to myself because I know how much Anton hates when I do that. Anton is two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. He’s a brick wall. A mountain.
And neither one moves fast.
“Sofia!”
A laugh escapes my lips, but it dies when I hear the engine.
It’s wrong. Too loud. And way too close.
“Sofia!”
This time it registers Anton isn’t yelling at me because I’m running too fast.
Danger.
I feel it in my bones. Goosebumps cover my scalp down to the tip of my toes. Fight or flight kicks in. And I want to fly.
I glance over my shoulder and see it coming.
I see the black SUV speeding down the sidewalk, and it's coming straight at me.
Anton hits me from behind.
It's not a tackle. He throws my body. I feel myself flying through the air before the ground comes up to meet me. The wind is knocked from my lungs. Pain radiates through my arms and legs. My ears are ringing.
No—it’s screeching tires.
I'm on my hands and knees, pushing myself up despite the fact I can’t draw a clean breath. I stand, swaying a bit as I take stock of the situation.
The SUV is gone. I see the black vehicle already hopping the curb and speeding down the road.
