The Professional (The Game Maker #1)(79)
Author: Kresley Cole

I won’t settle. I’m going to keep my eyes on the horizon.

In our room, I packed a messenger bag with my new passport, my cherished letter from Paxán, and some cash. I grabbed my wrap coat, my cell phone, and nothing else.

On my way out, I flipped off the bedroom camera. ABC, baby.

Do svidaniya, Siberian.

Chapter 41

“Your flight is about to board,” a French security guard told me as he inspected my ticket and fake passport.

In a matching fake accent, I said, “I’m surprisingly quick.” Especially if properly motivated.

An hour ago, I’d used the maid’s entrance to slip out of the town house, sneaked past the groaning guard, then hailed a cab. On the way to the airport, I’d used my phone to buy an economy ticket to Nebraska.

I’d chosen my flight based on one criterion. It departed, like, now. I just had to hope that this passport would work.

I stifled a sigh of relief when the man handed it back. “Mademoiselle, you’ll have to run to make your plane.”

“Thanks!” I called over my shoulder. Run? In heels and a demi-cup bra? Beautiful. My heels clicked along, boobs bouncing—to the delight of a pair of males I passed. This is why I preferred to wear minimizers!

As I rushed down the concourse, I called Jess.

She answered on the first ring. “How’d the splinterectomy go?”

“I left him to die on the table.” I darted glances around me, wondering how much time I had before Sevastyan noticed I was gone. “I’m at the airport right now.” Leaving him was for the best. I needed to go home, to see my friends and my mom. To sort through everything that had happened to me. To get back to my old self.

“He’ll come after you?”

“You have no idea—”

A text chimed on my phone. With a grimace, I read it.

Get your ass back here or I will whip it raw

“Shit, Jess! He knows I’m gone. He’s going to assume I came here and follow me.” To catch me and bring me back.

How had I gotten myself into this monumental mess? This had all started because I’d wanted to find my biological parents. Both were dead, and now I was saddled with a fortune that was still in the rinse cycle—along with a lying, stalker ex-boyfriend, who also happened to be an assassin.

Fuck!

“You’ve got a good head start on him, right?” Jess said. “And there’s got to be security everywhere.”

“If I can get away now, do you think we could hide out at your parents’ lake cabin for a couple of weeks?” Months? Years?

“Hide out? Nat, what did he do to you?!” She sounded on the verge of skull-fucking something.

“Nothing like you’re imagining. But he isn’t who I thought he was.”

“Skeletons in the closet?”

“Boneyard. And I still don’t know the half of it. He told me he had no family, but I just met his brother a little while ago! A big-shot politician. And their family is rich.”

“I thought you said Sevastyan was a street kid.”

“That’s what he led me to believe. You can imagine my shock. Jess, I didn’t even know his real name.”

“Holy shit, that’s serious. So to the cabin we go. I’ll make Jell-O shots for our trip, pick you up at the airport, and then we’re off. Quick question of no particular import: was the brother hot?”

“Jess!” I slowed, swiping my palm over my nape. The first night I’d met Sevastyan, I’d had a sense that I was being watched; I had that feeling again.

Wary, I surveyed the terminal—

Sevastyan! He was here, on the other side of the security checkpoint, charging through milling travelers.

God, even now I found him breathtaking to behold, with his powerful body and determined demeanor.

His intense golden eyes swept the area. Because he was hunting.

For me.

“Gotta go. Fucker’s here.” Click. How had he found me so quickly?

Our gazes met. Confusion flashed over his face. As if he truly had no idea why I’d left?

Too bad, Sevastyan, I am done.

I had to hope that he couldn’t get through the long line at security. What were the odds that he’d already bought a ticket—and lost his ever-present pistol?

His confusion was turning to fury. His body language said he would murder anyone who got between him and me. For me, his eyes were filled with warning. Don’t you dare run.

My expression told him, This dumbass can finally read neon signs. I gave him a pilot’s two-finger salute, then made my way toward my distant gate. They were boarding! If I could just get on the plane . . .

I was out of breath by the time I filed into the slow-moving line. “Excuse me,” I said to a group of sweet-looking elderly ladies in front of me, “do you mind if I skip ahead?”

They gave me bitch, please looks.

Out of the corner of my vision, I spied the crowd parting for a very tall black-haired man. Shit—he’d cleared security! My line snailed forward. . . .

Panicked, I scurried away from the gate down the terminal, knowing how this would go down. He’d catch me and I’d have to scream and fight.

And then he’d still never let me go.

When I had nowhere else to run, I spun around, squaring my shoulders.

His eyes were crazed as he stalked up to me. “Come.” He snatched my upper arm.

“Let—me—go.” I tried to wrench free of his viselike hold. “I’m not leaving with you.”

“Natalie, now.”

People were staring at us, whispering behind hands. Under my breath, I snapped, “Why can’t you just leave me alone? You’ve been doing it for weeks!” At least during the days.

“Fight me, and I go to jail. Because nothing short of that will keep me from you.”

Damn it! I’d seen his body language, promising pain to anyone who got between us. In the banya, he’d told me he’d do murder to possess me.

I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. And I didn’t want him to go to prison. Again.

“Interpol would love to take someone like me into custody.”

I glanced past him, saw a gate attendant reaching for a red phone. To alert security?

Talk about making a major decision under pressure: My freedom for his?

I recalled how Sevastyan had been last night, in our bed. My dream man.

Damn, damn, damn! It seemed I could leave him—but I couldn’t send him to prison. Not after everything he’d done for me.

This man saved my life.