Page 5 of Fierce Vow
CHAPTERTHREE
LEO
Motherfucking Paris trafficis going to be the death of me. It’s almost one in the morning, yet the area around the Champs-Élysées is jam-packed. I blame the tourists, they all buy into this “city of love” bullshit, especially at night.
My only saving grace is the bike. Like a true Parisian, I drive like an asshole, weaving in and out of traffic to get to my destination faster. When I finally pull up behind Alyona’s flat, Matis is waiting for me, leaning against the hood of his car.
“You made it here in record time,” he comments dryly, glancing at his watch.
“A private jet helps.” I stow my helmet on the bike’s back seat and cut to the chase. “What do you know?”
Matis flicks his cigarette away, springing off the hood of his car. He’s not bratva. He’s actually an ex-cop, but all that matters to me is his loyalty, ability to follow orders, and connections. Which is why Gianni tipped him off about Aly.
He shrugs carelessly in that nonchalant French way of his. “An intruder got into her flat, someone who was trying to abduct her… there was a tussle, she killed him, but she’s not saying much more than that.” He pauses, already lighting another cigarette.
The breath catches in my throat. “Abduct her!”
“It would seem so.” Matis shrugs again, making me itch to throttle him. He’s way too relaxed for this situation. “One more thing. The guy’s covered in tattoos—Russian prison tats for that matter. Gianni’s men are dealing with the body, but he’ll send pictures and anything else he finds.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Russian prison tattoos were popular among bratva members in the 1990s and 2000s, indicating the number of years they had served, their crimes, and their rank within the organization.
So this wasn’t a random break-in. She was targeted. My blood runs cold. “Text me the moment you have anything,” I bark over my shoulder.
I might be the last person Aly ever wants to see again, but she doesn’t have a choice. I’ll deal with her anger—I have for years—but I’m not allowing her to face this threat alone. Hell will freeze over first.
I saved her life once though it cost me everything. And if need be, I’ll do it again.
* * *
My knock reverberatesthroughout the hallway but there’s no answer. I shift my weight from one foot to the other and consider crashing down the door. No one else lives in this building, I made sure of that, but I figure it’ll get our reunion off to a bad start.
It’s not like we haven’t seen each other at all these past seven years. Our families are closely connected, we grew up together. In the years since we broke up, run-ins couldn’t be helped. Weddings, funerals, any big family event. She usually avoids me like the plague, even if I can’t tear my eyes off her.
I knock again, harder this time. Finally, footsteps approach, and the door swings open. Alyona stands rooted to the spot, staring at me as if I’m her worst nightmare come to life.
And maybe I am.
But that doesn’t stop me from soaking in her very presence. All I can hear is the thunderous pulsing of blood in my ears. Even after a shit sandwich of a night, she still possesses the same devastating beauty I’ve damn near memorized. Long, silky black hair, still damp after a shower, high cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and full, sensuous lips—although, at the moment, those lips form a disapproving pout.
Her stare is cold enough to freeze my balls. If she’s surprised to see me, she doesn’t show it, the only thing that’s clear is her unhappiness. If only I could find her as distasteful as she finds me. Because all I see is perfection.
She clutches her fuzzy robe tightly around her body, as if it’s armor against my presence. “What are you doing here?” she snaps, her words laced with acid.
I flash her a smile which only deepens her frown. “Rumor has it you could use some help.” I don’t bother waiting for an invitation into her flat—I know it won’t come. I push my way past her, and as I do, I’m enveloped by warm vanilla and jasmine. It’s a scent wrapped up in so much memory it makes my bones ache.
“You heard wrong. I’m fine. I’ve sorted it all out myself, so you can leave.” She holds the door open and gestures in the direction she wants me to go.
“I’m not going anywhere, Aly. Like it or not, I’m here to stay.”
Her cheeks flush, irritation flickering in her eyes as she slams the door behind me with more force than necessary. I know she’s tough, but beneath her bravado, she’s shaken up. Who wouldn’t be?
“Let’s not do this, okay?” she pleads. “As you can see, I’m fine. There was a break-in, but I handled it. You don’t have to pretend to care—”
“I’m not pretending, Aly. Someone came here tonight to abduct you and I need to know why.”
Even though she’s trying to put on a brave face, I notice how her shoulders sag with exhaustion, and every protective instinct within me surges. I want to scoop her up and shield her from everything bad in this world. Even if that’s impossible. Even though I couldn’t protect her from my own flesh and blood.
Without saying a word, she stalks into her kitchen, grabs a bottle of red wine, and fills a stemmed glass right up to the top. She gulps down half the contents in three seconds flat. She doesn’t offer me a drink or a seat, but at least she’s not screaming bloody murder for me to get out.Yet. There’s still plenty of time for that.