Page 20 of The Wrong Brother

Russ. Ruslan.

The duality of those two names is still echoing in my head. Why? He can’t be involved; there’s no way. I spentonenight with him, and he only knew my first name.

Except…

No, he sent a car. To the motel. I gave him the name of my motel.

My breathing shakes as I approach the ticket counter. “Hi,” I say quickly to the bored employee behind the glass. “What’s the next bus leaving tonight?”

The woman clicks around on her computer lazily. “Depends where you’re headed.”

Anywhere.

The word sits right on the tip of my tongue.

Then I hear. “You’re making this difficult, Emma.”

The voice slides down my spine like cold oil. The accent is more obvious now, or maybe I’m finally allowing my ears to hear it.

Every muscle in my body locks instantly. Slowly, I turn around.

Russ Smith, if that’s who he really is, stands a few feet behind me in a dark coat, hands tucked calmly into the pockets like he’s merely picking me up after dinner instead of hunting me through Santa Barbara.

God.

Even here, he looks beautiful, like some kind of avenging angel. The silver at his temples glints under the lights. The woman behind the ticket counter pops gum, staring past me at his carved-in-stone features.

He’s handsome. And terrifying.

The terminal lights catch the sharp edge of his cheekbones. His glasses are gone, leaving those pale eyes completely unobstructed as they move over me slowly.

Not angry. Worse; certain. Behind him, two massive men stand near the entrance, pretending not to watch us.

My stomach drops.

“You froze my card,” I whisper.

One corner of his mouth lifts faintly.

“You ran from me.”

Chapter 6

Ruslan

By the timemy security team alerts me that Emma is gone again, I am already irritated. A little surprised, but mostly irritated. How the hell did she manage to get out?

Not that I had a full security team on her;she’s just a girl.

That had been my thought all day yesterday, after dragging her back to the house and barricading her in a room. Just a girl, despite what my instincts shouted at me.

Too bad one of the hotels that the escorts work out of decided to try and threaten me. It took a few hours of investigating, twisting the right joints, to find out that the threat came from one lowly sous chef who happened upon my operations.

Now he’s several miles off the coast, sunk further than anyone will ever find him. There are several dozen lives depending on discretion and my protection. I don’t mind taking one out to save theirs.

But that gap in time, in supervision, gave Emma an opening. One I hadn’t expected her to take, but she must have realized that I was distracted.

I stand in the kitchen, staring at the untouched espresso Mrs. Alvarez left beside my laptop while one of the guards speaks through my earpiece.