Page 30 of Maksim
I’m both afraid of and impressed by Elira, and although she’s proven to be a far worse punishment than Nikita intended, I’m having a terrible time relieving myself of her. She still winds up breathing, in the end.
I wipe the blood of the murder weapon onto Daniel’s pants then tuck it into my pocket. “We should go,” I say, remembering the woman outside. This just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
“Come on.” I hold out my hand for her, but she just stares at it. “Elira…”
“What is the point?” Her voice breaks as a tear rolls down her cheek, turning red as it hits a patch of dried blood. “Leave me here for the authorities. I killed two of you precious Americans, the police will take care of your problem for you.”
“Daniel Storm was a trafficker for an organization who won’t allow his murder to become known to the public. The police are not your problem, I promise. Now if you want my help, let’s go.”
“Your help,” she spews like she’s tasted something foul. “Your help involves locking me in another man’s basement because I’m too much of a burden to see your own. I’m not your friend. I’m your prisoner. Don’t insult my intelligence.”
“You’ll be my dead prisoner if we don’t get you out of this house.”
“Isn’t that the plan?” she asks, giving me a sobered stare that holds no fear. “Or will you be throwing me into a well as promised?”
Frustration builds, and I open my mouth to voice it but pause. Her face is hard, but her eyes are soft. She’s brave. And strong. And possibly psychotic.
But she’s also just a girl.
“No,” I say. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Right. You’ve said that before.”
I think through my next words carefully, letting my thoughts brew for a minute. Nothing I say will make her trust me. I haven’t earned it, and she doesn’t appear to be up for giving me the chance.
But she doesn’t have much of a choice. She’ll never get out of this mess alone. The organization will come for her as quickly as the Bratva.
I stand and turn toward the door. “Good luck, then.”
Seconds pass with my footsteps being the only sound. I almost make it to the door before I hear the soft patter of Elira’s feet approaching.
Slowing to a stop, I turn to face her.
“Did you mean it when you said you aren’t as bad as I think?”
With only slight hesitation, I nod.
“Are you as bad as these men?” she asks, referring to the traffickers.
I do many immoral things, enough that I’m not sure what the honest truth is. I just know the answer she needs to hear.
“No.”
Several moments pass while she eyes me, trying to tell if I’m lying, but finally, she gives a curt nod and steps toward the door. “Then I will go with you.”
I take her arm before she can walk past me and look down at her dress. When she follows my gaze, her cheeks blush.
“Go find the bedroom and change. Pack a bag of the wife's clothes while you’re at it. I don’t have anything for you to wear at my place.”
She gives me a curious look before leaving to go upstairs.
My place. The thought makes my stomach turn, but I can’t ask Hugh to put the girl up anymore. Not after the trouble she’s caused.
Roman is out of the question. Everything that has happened since we left the warehouse must be kept quiet, and he would extract everything from her in minutes.
I don’t trust her enough to put her up someplace by herself. At any time, Nikita could want to see her, so I really do need her close by.
So that leaves the hypothetical well I spoke of before, or … my place. For now, at least.