Page 42 of Lord of Passion

"That was fun," she says, breaking the silence. "Surprisingly so, the Dragon has some fascinating stories about the early 1900s Russia, almost as if she was alive then."

I shrug, "It's entirely possible that she was. She's had enough plastic surgery to preserve the entire cast of… what are those shows called? The Real Housewives?"

"Yes!" Caroline lets out something close to a cackle. "That is hilarious." She turns slightly to look at me. The privacy screen is up and it's quiet here in the back, soft leather seats, and the armored car making it soundproof, closed off from the rest of the world. "What about you? How did your talks go? I caught something about Novikov and the shipping routes. Is that the one that the Morozov Bratva controls between Moscow and St. Petersburg?"

I lean back, eyeing her thoughtfully. "And how did you hear about that?"

She doesn't quite roll her eyes. "Because you and Alexsey were talking about it while I was getting ready in the suite. You weren't speaking quietly, so I assumed it was okay to listen."

"It's a fucking upstart from Slovakia, we believe. We've never heard of them before they came up on everyone's radar about six months ago, trying to negotiate for a piece of Moscow, which is thestupidestpossible place to begin. Such illusions of grandeur."

"So, you don't know who it is?" She leans against the arm rest, propping her head on her elbow.

"Very little," I admit. "They're not established, but they're aggressive. They have funding, someone is backing their expansion. It's hard to know how much yet."

She frowns thoughtfully, a little furrow between her brows and it's oddly endearing. "When you say this new group is trying to get a seat here, are they trying to knock you out of your position with the Six?"

I nod unwillingly. "Yes. Their audacity for going after the biggest fish shows a level of desperation."

She shrugs slightly, "Or, to the other families, this Novikov group could appear bold and daring."

I frown. She's correct. "As much as these families love their status, they love a bargain and if this new supplier can give it to them, they would have no hesitation in betraying us," I run my hands through my hair.

"Well, what if you –" Caroline's question is cut off by the thunderous shriek of metal.

Chapter Nineteen

In which there is the tragic and unreasonable destruction of more beautiful vehicles.

Caroline…

My question is cut off by a thunderous shriek of metal as an black truck tears across the intersection, plowing through a red light as it slams into us. It feels like a giant smashed his fist against the SUV, and I'm yanked violently against my seatbelt, my head snapping back.

The truck is enormous, with a steel grille that's biting into the metal of our door. The driver is still hitting the gas hard, a high whine of the engine as it tries to shove us off the road.

Nikandr recovers instantly, slamming the privacy panel open. Vasilisa is already pulling the driver out of his seat. He's unconscious, the side of his face crushed and bloody. She curses as she cuts him loose from the deployed airbag.

"I'm pulling him out on three," Nikandr says. "One, two, three-" He hauls the driver into the back and I grab an arm and help, the muscles in my back screaming in protest. The poor man isheavy.

Our heads snap back against the seat again and I flinch at the burst of light that blurs my vision for a moment. The goddamntruck keeps gunning its engine. The SUV's tires scream in protest, but it holds steady.

Looking behind us, I can see the chase car is engaged in active gunfire with another car that came up from behind them. Vasilisa gets us loose from the collision with the truck and we bullet across the intersection as our two chase cars scramble to catch up.

Vasilisa is cursing, fighting the steering wheel. "We have self-inflating tires," she says tightly. "But the front left one won't last long. I can tell there's metal rubbing against it."

Nikandr cups my cheek. "Put your head down to your knees, clasp your arms around your legs, and stay still. Do you hear me?"

I know how to shoot, but I don't argue, I nod. He needs to be focused. He crawls into the front seat and opens the glove compartment, hitting a button there. "This is a distress signal," he says over his shoulder to me, checking his gun. "Since we're still downtown, it won't take long for help to reach us." The bodyguard's SUV directly behind us is on fire and it looks like after we escaped the truck, the driver did a suicide mission to crash into our guard's car.

Please don't let them be dead.

I already know some of their names and faces. Daniil, who brought me a chocolate croissant, and Iriney, who smiled at me, though I suspect they're not supposed to.

The dashboard comes alive and a voice crackles. "Chase car two is down,Sovietnik."

"Did anyone make it?" Nikandr asks.

"I don't know," the voice from the dash is grim. "The flames are too bright to see if anyone got out."