Beautiful Russian Monster (A Vancouver Mafia Romance Book 2)

I slipped out of bed and moved to the bathroom. Behind me, Viktor was passed out cold. It was already dark outside, and in two short hours we had to leave for the airport. I decided not to wake him. I needed a hot minute to process everything, so I decided to have a shower.

Viktor was the most incredible lover. He made my body respond in ways I didn’t even know were possible. This whole trip was a rollercoaster of dread, fear and relief—add in all my conflicting feelings for Viktor, and I was a cauldron of emotion.

I slicked water back from my face and felt every muscle in my core when I lifted my hands up. I covered my face with my hands. The sex was off the charts. Like really crazy, mind-blowing sex.

Part of me knew that I was pushing Viktor when I asked him to take a chance on us, but the other part of me recognized what an incredible man he was. Even with all our differences, I had never met a man who seemed more trustworthy. I felt safe around him—not just physically, but safe to be myself. There was no pretense between us. Everything was real and honest.

“Get down, get down! Take cover!”

I froze as I recognized Viktor’s hoarse cry. I fell to my knees on the slick tiles, fully expecting gunfire to spray the room.

Nothing happened.

I crept out of the shower and, grabbing a towel, I peered out the door. The bedside lamp was casting a cold glow. Viktor was sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands.

There were no murderers in the room. No killer ninjas. He was alone with his own personal demons.

I tried to quell my shaking voice as I crept toward him. “Are you okay?”

He sounded both angry and pained. “Leave me be.”

I paused, and my legs trembled, but there was something in his voice that told me he wasn’t fucking around.

I moved back to the washroom, shut the door and got back in the shower to huddle beneath the hot spray.

What the fuck? My heart was pounding a million miles a minute. The crazy part was that when he had shouted, I had fully expected madmen to bust into our hotel room and shower us in bullets.

I blinked back tears as I stared at the ceiling. Like I said. A rollercoaster of emotion.

I deliberately took my time getting ready. Viktor obviously wanted his space, and I needed time to think. I need to get past my own reaction to his terror and be mindful of what he had to be going through. What trauma was he reliving in his dream that made him wake up screaming?

When I eventually opened the door, all the lights in the room were on and he was fully dressed, sitting on the neatly made bed.

He lifted his face to mine. “I’m sorry.”

I played with the straps of my bag. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

He stood up. “I’m sorry I scared you. I just need a moment when that happens to me.”

“I know.”

He let out a slow breath. “This week is stirring up shit for me.”

I chewed my bottom lip, trying to say only the right thing. “It’s okay.”

He turned and focused on his bag. “The first time I talked to Andrusha, he said, ‘It’s somehow connected to Beirut.’ He didn’t have a chance to explain, but he wanted me to remember what happened there.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

I waited. He would either tell me or he wouldn’t.

“I had two missions in Beirut.” His eyes couldn’t meet mine. “They both went bad.”

I resisted the urge to walk over and touch him. “What does that mean?”

“It means that good men died. They said, after the fact, that we had gotten bad intel.”

“And now you dream about it.”

He gave me a haunted look. “They don’t feel like dreams. They feel like I’m reliving those first moments when we were under attack.”

It sounded like hell on earth. “When you’re trying to save everyone.”

Regret washed over his face. “But I didn’t, and I never do—not in my dreams. I always lose there too.”

I could only imagine the nightmares I would be subjected to if I wasn’t able to save my grandfather. I had been in Viktor’s world for only a week, and I was probably going to need extra therapy. I couldn’t imagine the horrors that he had buried deep.

I didn’t know how to help him. So I stepped into his arms. It surprised me when he wrapped his arms around me.

The longer we held each other, the more relaxed he started to feel. Almost as if the tension were draining out of him.

I put my head on his shoulder and looked around. “This hotel room has been good to us.”

I could feel his chest move in silent amusement. “Yes. It has.”

“Now we have to go back to the real world.”

“We’re almost there. One more flight.”

I didn’t ask how dangerous this was going to be. I didn’t want to know. “I’m sorry about your dreams.”

His mouth found mine, and he gave me a lingering kiss. “They pass.”

“Can you see any connection between what is happening here and what happened to you in Beirut?”

“No.” He thought for a moment but he didn’t elaborate. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have your passport?”

“It’s in my knapsack. I have Lucy. Do you still have my negligee?”

He looked down at me with interest. “I don’t remember you buying that.”

“It was at the night market.”

“It’s a pain in the ass in my knapsack.”

I didn’t blink. “Would you prefer my old doll instead? I think Lucy takes up less space.”

“I’m good.”

I laughed, and his responding smile lit up my heart.

He put his big hand on the back of my neck as we walked toward the elevator. “Are you one day going to wear that little number for me?”

I gave him a saucy look. “That’s the kind of outfit I don’t pull out until at least the fifth date.”

We got on the lift and started our journey down. The doors opened, and another couple got on.

He leaned forward and spoke low in my ear. “Third date.”

I was smiling like an idiot. “We’ll see.”

Viktor checked us out, and then we walked down the steps of the hotel toward the street. A taxi driver was waiting for us at the bottom of the steps.

I could feel Viktor scanning the horizon. The driver got out of the car and opened the trunk.

I paused, but Viktor reassured me. “It’s okay, you can get in.”

“Miss, would you like me to take your bag?” The driver reached out his hands.

“Sure,” I said, handing him my bag. He put it in the trunk. “Sir, would you like me to take yours?”

I didn’t even see the motorcycle. It spun up the side of the taxi. The driver was dressed all in black and was wearing a black helmet with a black visor. He shoved the driver toward Viktor and easily lifted my bag out of the trunk.

Viktor shoved the driver out of the way, and he managed to yank at the motorcyclist’s jacket. With lightning speed, they were throwing a terrifyingly fast series of punches.

The taxi driver crawled around them and managed to pick up my bag from the road.

“I’ve got it,” he yelled. In a panic, he ran toward the sidewalk and heaved it as far as he could, away from the two fighting men. The bag sailed through the air and landed on the other side of an ornate iron gate that locked off a lane from the main thoroughfare.

Everyone stopped moving. And then the motorcyclist was back on his bike, spinning his wheels so hard there was smoke when he took off.

“What the hell?” Viktor yelled at the driver.

“Sorry,” he yelled back. “I was trying to help.”

“My passport is in that bag,” I told Viktor in a panic. “And so is Lucy.”

Viktor stretched his arm through the gate, but he couldn’t reach it. “That little fucker is going to drive around the block and come at this from the other side. We have about forty-five seconds.”

There was a narrow passage between the gate and the wall. It was a long narrow space that extended about five feet before it opened to the other side. I watched as Viktor tried to fit himself in the space, but he was too big. “Blaire, sweetie, can you fit through here? We need your passport.”

I blinked at him and then looked at the space. “You want me to go in there?”

“Yes.”

I could feel my heart begin to pound in my chest. The entire world got bigger, and that space got so small. Too small to squeeze into.

He put his face in front of mine. “You can do this. In and out. Five seconds each way.”

“Okay.”

“You’ve got a whole thirty seconds to do this. Can you manage this?”

“Yes.”

I was working on my breathing. I stepped toward the wall and the fence. I could feel the cold stones of the wall on my back and the mental bars of the fence near my face.

It’s squeezing me.

“I can’t,” I sobbed.

“It’s okay.” Viktor reached in and pulled me back to safety. He kissed me hard on the lips. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. My passport is in there.” We could hear the whine of the motorcycle approaching.

“Come here.” Viktor grabbed my arm and yanked me back toward the taxi. He holstered his gun and then shoved his bag in my arms. “Go wait inside the airport—near security, okay? Wait for me there.”

“What are you doing?” I tried to hold the door open.

“Get her out of here!” Viktor yelled before he shut the door.

I spun around in the seat, looking out the back window. I could see Viktor sprinting down the sidewalk before he disappeared around the corner.

The driver looked at me in the review mirror. “Your boyfriend is badass.”

I slunk down in my seat. I had seen the fight at the night market, and I was terrified that Viktor would catch up to the man—I feared for his safety.

“I know.” And then I looked out the window and worked not to burst into tears.