Page 122 of The Harbinger
“I-I’m Mia.”
“Mia. Such a pretty name.” He towered over me, his smile disarming. “Tell me, Mia, are you with my dearKatyen’ka?”
“Who?” I shook my head and stepped back but came to an abrupt halt when I collided with one of his behemoth men.
His full brown beard framed a sharp nose and a pair of round, penetrating brown eyes. His bushy brows were furrowed in a perpetual scowl, emphasizing his no-nonsense demeanor. But his hairless, razor-shaved skull made him appear especially menacing as if he were ready to go to battle at a moment’s notice.
“Are you an American?” the sophisticated gentleman asked.
I nodded and turned back to him, keeping an eye on the hulk.
“Beautiful country, but I prefer my lush mountains and cold weather.”
“I’ve heard Alaska is similar.”
“Hmm.” He raised his head, his lips pursed. “Indeed. And where are you from?”
I glanced at Katya, who stood with the bread tight to her chest, flattening the airy life out of it, then to Vlad, who pressed his hand to his hip, his other twitching at his side. The man’s bodyguards flanked us, crowding us into a tight circle where means of escape for me were impossible.
“I’m not…” I pulled my brows close together and frowned. “I… um.”
“She’s a visiting college student atMGU,” Katya said as she stepped forward.
“Ah.” He scrunched his chin as he nodded. “And what are you studying?”
“Bo—”
“Gardening. She wants to work on the US President’s lawns.”
The man looked at Katya with irritation while I bore her a questioning glare. “Kat’ka.” Her gaze lowered to the floor, and she gave the bread another squeeze.
“Gardening?”
I gave him a jerky nod.
“And what about gardening appeals to you?”
My stomach pitted against me. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
Katya’s gaze shot up to mine as though I’d asked something unfathomable.
“Ruslan Vladomirovich.”
I stuck my hand out for a shake, and when he didn’t take it, I wiped my sweaty palm along my backside. “Well, Ruslan, it’s been nice meeting you, but—”
“Do you mind?” He pointed to the opposite hand I’d offered him, then opened his palm.
My eyes darted around, grasping for an answer from either of my companions, but they wouldn’t make eye contact, except for Ivan whose hateful frown gave away nothing but the leaching animosity he held for me.
I placed my hand in his.
Ruslan’s fingers snapped around mine, trapping me as he turned my wrist upward and shoved my shirt sleeve to my upper forearm. I tugged my skin burning from his touch.
“What are you doing?” I grappled with my sleeve to hide my scars until he let go of my hand and shirt. I tugged away from him, bringing my now red wrist, and stretched out sleeve to my torso, holding it tight.
Ruslan switched to Russian as he spoke to his men.
I moved toward Vlad, shouldering my way past the man when Sacha walked into the store with Dmitri, Grigoriy, and Yuri beside him.