I woke up with a pounding heart and a dry mouth. Sitting up, I felt disoriented as I looked around Andrusha’s empty loft. The clock beside the bed told me it was ten thirty in the morning. My body felt stiff and sore as I got up.
I stood beside the kitchen counter, and while I drank two full glasses of water, I tried to assess how I felt about everything that had happened. Being in witness protection had been a surreal experience that never seemed to end, but ever since I had woken up in the back seat of the truck in the middle of a gunfight two days ago, I felt like I was living in some action movie. Was this real? Did people actually live in this world? A world where everyone carried guns and shot at each other, and no one felt safe?
Someone knocked on the door and then the door opened and he stood there, larger than life, looking at me. He wore a dark pair of jeans and an untucked navy button-down. He looked dangerous with his dark five o’clock shadow and messy hair. He walked into the loft, tossed his phone on the island, and looked me over.
“Your eye is no longer swollen. The rest of your face should heal up in a few days.”
I hadn’t looked in the mirror since last night. I didn’t even want to imagine what I looked like.
“My face feels fine,” I lied.
“Yeah, okay,” he said in a tone that indicated he didn’t believe me.
As intense as it was to watch him, it was less prudent to take my eyes off him, so I stood there, holding my ground, watching his every move.
“How did you sleep?” he asked, his tone softening.
I shrugged. “Okay.”
He looked around the loft. “Yesterday you said you didn’t want to go back to the police.”
I didn’t. The police had attacked me. They were also doing a shit job of keeping me out of harm’s way. They were not a good option. Unfortunately, that didn’t leave many other options, since I had limited funds.
Andrusha told me he could keep me safe.
“I don’t trust the police,” I confirmed.
His eyes held mine. “I think your best plan of action is to get out of town.”
I worked to keep the fear off my face. “Uh, sure.” How was I going to manage that? Even with the money he had given me, my funds wouldn’t carry me for long.
He didn’t look happy. “Okay, why don’t you get ready? We can leave in an hour.”
Where would I go? How would I get there? Should I take a bus somewhere? I worked up the courage to speak. “Do you know where I should go?”
He gave me a blank stare.
I swallowed. “I’ve never had to get out of town. I don’t know where to go.”
He motioned with his head towards the bathroom. “Go get ready. Then we’ll figure it out.”
I showered and changed in record time. Nerves jangled my shaking hands as I applied some makeup to cover the bruises on my face. Andrusha was getting rid of me. This is what I got for being afraid of the one person who was trying to help me.
I had absolutely no idea how I would survive with cash to cover only two weeks of living expenses. Maybe I could call up some old dance friend and ask to crash for a couple of weeks, to give me time to find work? I packed up my stuff in a hurry, and then moved to put on my shoes.
Andrusha was sitting on the couch. He motioned for me to sit down beside him. I gingerly sat on the edge.
He rubbed his face with his hands before looking at me. “Okay. I put together a plan for you.” He handed me a fat envelope. “Here is fifteen thousand dollars. You need to take a ferry to Victoria and then to Seattle. From there, you need to catch a flight or a bus ride somewhere. And then do that again. Repeatedly. When you do stop somewhere, it can’t be a place where you know anyone. Don’t talk to anyone from your past life. Lie low.”
I sat, blinking at the envelope, dazed he had given me so much money. “When can I come home?”
He looked irked. “When Bunko’s dead. Or when he goes to prison.”
That could take years. “Seriously?”
“Yes. That’s how people who are in hiding don’t get killed.”
The thought of heading into a life where I knew no one filled me with unthinkable fear. “Do you think Bunko or his men will follow me?”
He studied me. “They might. That’s why it’s important to move around at the start. Make it hard for them to find you.”
I stared blindly at the envelope. His generosity was overwhelming and would go a long way. It would help me more than he probably knew. “Thank you for your kindness.”
He looked away. “I’ll get someone to drive you to the ferry.”
He drove me to the ferry himself. I sat beside him, my worn knapsack clutched in my hands, watching as he navigated his truck to the drive-and-drop parking lot.
Together, we watched in silence as the incoming ferry slowly moved towards the dock. The big gates were lowered, connecting boat to land. Cars began exiting, and tires thumped rhythmically as they drove onto the metal ramp.
Foot passengers lined up, waiting to board.
He started to speak and then stopped himself.
I looked at him.
His smile looked like regret, but his voice was devoid of emotion. “You ready?”
I wanted to shrink down into a ball on the floorboards—that is how unready I was for this next stage. But my tone was as monotone as his. “I’m ready.”
I got out of the truck and looked back at him. Even if he was an intimidating criminal, the guy deserved my gratitude. “Thank you for saving me and for helping me.” And for not hurting me or murdering me.
“Remember: remain as invisible as possible, and trust no one.”
“Okay.” I stood awkwardly before swinging the door shut. He spoke, just as the door closed and effectively cut off his words.
I opened the door. “Did you say something?”
A half-laugh came out. “No. I was just saying, stay alive.”
Stay alive? That was his parting shot to me?
“Again with the cheery pep talks,” I said under my breath.
“What’s that?” A smile crossed his face.
“Nothing.”
He looked amused. “You’re not going to tell me?”
“No.”
His wide smile caught me off guard. It made him look like a regular guy.
“Goodbye, Andrusha,” I spoke his name for the first time, wondering if he even knew my name.
We stared at each other.
“Bye, Olivia.”
Remain invisible. I pulled my hood over my head and stood in line with my head down. I shuffled up the ramp along with the other foot passengers. Before stepping on the ferry, I looked over my shoulder, but his truck was gone.
I moved to the uppermost outside deck which was mostly empty due to the cool weather. I shivered as I took a seat on an empty bench. Wrapping my arms around myself, I thought about my options. Where should I go once I got to Seattle? Andrusha said I should move around a lot. I should find the cheapest bus ride to nowhere.
If Bunko’s men came after me, would I even see them coming? Would they be able to find me? I needed to get smart fast about hiding from them.
I wondered if I should call my mom—just to tell her that I was leaving. I wouldn’t tell her where I was going. Just that I would be in touch. Would she even care or would she just give me one of her famous lectures? Tears blurred my vision. Fanning my face, I looked up, trying not to let any more emotion out. I could fall apart once I landed somewhere. Right now was not the time to lose my shit.
Someone sat down on the bench across from me, even though there was lots of space. I’d have to find somewhere else to be alone.
I grabbed my bag to leave—and froze.
It was Andrusha. It shocked me to see him there, and my heart pounded in my chest. I waited for him to speak, but he just sat there and stared back at me. His intensity unnerved me.
I found my voice. “What are you doing here?”
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, while those blue eyes coldly assessed me. “I want to fuck you.”
His words shocked me and left me breathless. Holy shit. I tried to imagine getting naked with this huge man, but my brain couldn’t process that thought.
“You do?” I worked to keep my emotions off my face, but I knew I was doing a shit job of it.
He watched my reaction with a cold smile. “That’s why I didn’t want you around.”
“You got rid of me because you were attracted to me?”
He crossed his arms. “More or less.”
Was this some sort of proposition? Is that why he’d come to find me on the boat? And if so, was he waiting for an answer?
I needed to buy time. “I thought I wasn’t your type.”
His entire body went still except his eyes, which sharpened on my face. “You’re not.”
I had no idea how to respond to that. “I’m confused.”
Moments that felt like hours ticked by, and then he stood up. “This was a mistake.”
He was moving away from me before I even realized what was happening. I stared after him, feeling more vulnerable than before.
He made me feel safe.
I grabbed my bag and scrambled after him, yanking hard on his unyielding arm.
“Wait.”
He shook off my grip. “Go live your life. Try to stay alive.” He disappeared down the stairs.
I stood there, wavering with indecision. If I went on my own, I was pretty certain it would only be a matter of time before Ivan Bunko’s men would catch up to me and kill me. Andrusha was offering protection if I slept with him. Both options terrified me but only one option resulted in me staying alive.
I ran down the steps and caught up to him on the second deck.
“Why did you come back?” I narrowly squeezed past the onslaught of passengers coming towards us. “Please talk to me.”
He ignored me and kept on walking.
“Are you leaving because I’m inexperienced?” I worked to keep up to his retreating form.
He stopped short, and I ran into his broad back. He spun around and glowered at me. “I told you. This was a mistake.”
He was larger than life, towering over me. This was my only shot. I needed him to know how scared I was. “Please. I’m not safe on my own.”
His nostrils flared as he pinned me with his gaze. “This is a bad idea.”
He was right, of course. It was a bad idea. But he seemed like the person most capable of keeping me alive. “I need protecting. Can you help me?”
He looked faintly insulted that I would even question his ability to keep me safe. “I can protect you from the Ivans of this world, but that’s not the issue.”
“Will you protect me?” my voice cracked.
“If you’re mine, I’ll protect you.”
If you’re mine. What did that mean? Did it matter? I had no idea what I was agreeing to, but I wanted to live. “That works for me.”
He shook his head in disappointment. “This is a mistake.”
“It’s not.” It was my best chance of staying alive.
His big hand grabbed mine, and in that moment, everything shifted. Instead of walking with indifference ahead of me, he walked in a way that shielded me from the crowd. Actually, the oncoming crowd seemed to part like the red sea before him. I merely followed in his wake.
I followed him back to the truck and got in beside him. Without looking at me, he gunned the engine.
We drove in silence. I glanced over at the man who had just saved my life for the third time in less than three days, but I didn’t dare speak. Annoyance radiated off him like heat, crackling with energy.
Three months with him in exchange for the chance to live the rest of my life. It wasn’t even a question of doing the right thing. This was my only choice.
We pulled back into the same bay at the warehouse. Viktor watched us pull in, his huge arms crossed over his chest, a difficult-to-read expression on his face. When we got out of the vehicle, he asked, “Everything okay, Andrusha?”
Andrusha answered in a long string of harsh-sounding Russian.
Viktor shrugged. “I wasn’t asking about that. I thought maybe you had an incident at the ferry.”
Andrusha turned his dark look my way. “Upstairs. Now.”
I scrambled after him. He was different today. Moody and angry. I followed him into his loft and perched on the couch.
“Fuck,” he breathed, standing in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips.
I waited, scarcely breathing. He turned to me. “Give me your bag.”
I handed him my knapsack with trepidation. In that bag held all my worldly possessions. He opened the top flap and tipped it over, shaking the contents onto the coffee table. I watched without protest as he tossed my clothes onto the couch beside me and then looked through everything else. Not that there was much to look at. I had my toiletries. My passport and ID. A dog-eared paperback that I had already read countless times. And a small notebook and pen, which I used to document each day of my miserable life as a witness.
He picked up my small journal, and my protest blurted out of me. “Don’t.”
His cool gaze pinned me.
I hastened to explain. “That’s my private journal.”
With disgust, he tossed it on the table. He sat back, crossed his arms, and studied me.
“What happens now?” I asked. The unknown was freaking me out.
“I’m thinking.”
I worked to repack my bag. I folded my clothes and stuffed them in. I repacked everything except the thick envelope of cash he had given me. I left that on the table.
He leaned forward, picked it up, and handed it to me. “You forgot this.”
“That’s yours.”
“I gave it to you.”
“To help me leave. Now I’m staying.”
His jaw clenched. “Keep this with you at all times. If shit goes sideways, and you actually manage to get away, you’re going to need cash.”
His generosity was in direct contrast to his sour demeanor. And I didn’t want to think about what he meant by if shit goes sideways.
“Thank you.” I tucked it in the bottom of my bag and then sat there and waited for instruction, for options. I waited for him to tell me what to do and not to do to secure his protection.
