Nikolai (The Romanovs Book 1) Read online

  “Run.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Grabbing Everly’s hand, I take off. The house begins to crumble behind us, like in an old Indiana Jones movie I’d watched as a child. However, Indiana, as the hero of the movie, was guaranteed an exit.

  Unfortunately, this isn’t a movie set, and I will never be cast as the hero.

  “Faster, love.”

  Our feet pound against the ancient wood. Gunshots ring out, putting holes in the walls and allowing sunlight to shine through.

  “They’re inside the wall,” a man shouts.

  Fuck me. “Down.” I shove Everly to the floor, covering her body as bullets begin to rain down on us.

  Everly starts to cry. “I don’t want to die.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll be okay. I promise.” When the bullets stop, I jump to my feet and peer through the holes, then take aim. One. Two. Three clean shots to the throat. Each man goes down like a heavy sack of potatoes, clutching at his neck.

  “Up on your feet,” I say, helping her to stand. I break out into a jog, noting with pride that, despite her tears, she’s keeping up and holding it together.

  “Only a little bit further.”

  The hardwood floors give way to hard-packed dirt. Roots dangle from above. Exhaling, I slow down and glance at her, putting one finger over my mouth. I have no idea if they’ve discovered this place. No one knew about my escape route, not even Gustav—the traitor.

  Carefully, I climb the wooden stairs leading up into the kitchen and push up a little before assessing the area. It’s empty, the thick layer of dust indicating that no one has been in here for years.

  I shove the entire hatch open and motion for Everly to join me. Wrapping my arms around her, I guide her to a rocking chair and place the bag in her lap. “Hold this, please.”

  She looks up at me gratefully. “We made it.”

  “Mostly.” I don’t want to get her hopes up. “We still have to get to the outbuilding and into my Land Rover.”

  Parting the curtains, I check our surroundings. Nothing. Not a car or man in sight.

  “Do you need longer or can we go now?” I ask, trying to be considerate.

  Shooting to her feet, she swings the bag over her shoulder. “Now.”

  “You would make a fine assassin.” Or she would once she learned how to defend herself properly.

  Her brows crease together. “Except I don’t know how to use a gun, and I’ve never killed someone.”

  My smile falls. I clear my throat and run a hand through my hair. “The gun knowledge, I can supply.”

  “And the other?”

  “I pray to God you never kill anyone.” I grab her hand once more, and head outside.

  We make it to the outbuilding and into my SUV without incident. I start the engine and begin to drive in the opposite direction of the mansion.

  “Oh my God,” Everly gasps, looking back.

  I glance into my rearview mirror, watching in pure disbelief as the house we just left goes up in flames.

  “If Agent—Viktor is dead,” Everly begins, “then who would do that to you—us?”

  “I don’t know, but I am going to find out. What do you remember about the day I was shot?”

  Everly lets out a mirthless laugh. “Which time?”

  “Second.”

  “After you were shot, all these men showed up. They were dressed in black, from head to toe. Viktor was more concerned about me, I think, than you, because he was the one to get me out of there.”

  “He didn’t stay behind?”

  “He told one of the men to get rid of the body.” She runs her hands over her face. “I’m sorry, but I don’t…I don’t remember much after that.”

  “Don’t apologize. You’ve helped me more than you know.”

  With a grim smile, I hold up my phone and text Ben. I need his help once more—I need to find out who Viktor was working for.

  “I asked Ben to meet us in Barcelona, at the Hotel Majestic.”

  Everly glances at me. “We can drive there?”

  “We’ll take the train.”

  “But I don’t have my passport. I have no idea where any of my things are.”

  I train my gaze on the road. “That won’t be an issue.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  En route to the train station, I make a stop at Foust’s Watch Repair to get a new I.D. for Everly. In less than an hour, we have the required documents.

  She glances at the fake passport. “Eve Smith?”

  “It’s easier for us to travel as honeymooners. We’ll attract less attention that way.”

  With a sigh, she closes the passport and tucks it into the side pocket of the purse she’d bought while we waited for Foust to finish. There is another bag as well, filled with resort wear. I don’t think Everly cared what I bought for her. At this point, I think Everly is barely aware of what she’s doing, just following my instructions in order to stay alive, but I have no time to stop and really check on her.

  There will be opportunity to rest on the train. It’s a fifteen-hour trip, and I’ve already purchased first class tickets. We will be able to shower and sleep along the way.

  Pulling into the parking deck, I find a spot and cut the engine. Everly just sits there, even as I grab our things and open the door.

  “Everly,” I say, touching her leg.

  She jumps. “Oh. We’re here.”

  Grabbing her purse, she gets out of the SUV. I finish gathering our things, keeping her in sight. This is not good. Although the worst hasn’t happened, yet. We haven’t been reported to Interpol as being terrorists on the loose. Still, the mindless way she’s acting right now is a dead giveaway that something is wrong.

  Or she could be suffering from jetlag.

  I seize upon that thought. I grab her shoulders and turn her to face me. “Listen to me. We met in Raleigh. You flew to join me in Berlin yesterday and we were married. Now we are travelling to Barcelona for our honeymoon.”

  She blinks slowly. “Am I supposed to tell someone that?”

  I kiss the top of her head, grab our bags and her hand. “Anyone who asks.”

  Everly showers while I unpack our bags and check my weapons. It’s easy enough to get through security when you know the right people. But the story I concocted for us is for those who can’t be paid to look the other way.

  Sitting down on the edge of the bed in the sleeper car, I drop my head into my hands. I’ve never been this weary before…then again, I’ve never been on the run before, and certainly not with another person.

  The door swooshes open and I look up as Everly steps inside, a bag on her arm. “I stopped in the dining car. They made me a to-go bag.”

  I motion to the identical bag beside me. “I did the same.”

  A little smile curves her lips, lighting up her face. “Guess we should have coordinated better, huh?”

  Reaching out, I grab her arm and pull her between my legs. “Thank you for being so thoughtful.” Releasing my grip, I shift my hands to her hips and lean against her. “God, you feel good.”

  She bends to one side, setting the bag down. Her fingers sift through my hair, soothing me. “Have you slept much?”

  “Enough.”

  “Roman, you need to sleep,” she says sternly.

  “Sleep is for the dead.” Which we will be if I don’t stay alert.

  She steps out of my embrace. “Then call me a corpse, because I’m exhausted.”

  I eye her, taking in the fatigue that clings to her like a shroud. “Are you feeling well, love?”

  “I just escaped imminent death.” Her smile widens slightly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Of course I feel well.” Turning away, she grabs her bag, sets it on the table under our window, and begins to rummage through it.

  I do the same with mine, and after a few minutes, we are eating in silence. “Everly…”

  “Please don’t,” she says, wiping her mouth. “I’m clean, I’m full, and there’s a bed c
alling my name. And I’m fairly certain we’re safe aboard public transportation.”

  Standing, I cross the small space to gather my things. “I’ll be in the shower.”

  “Have fun.”

  I exhale, thinking of her forced cheerfulness and the cramped space I’ll have to wash in. “Thanks,” I mutter.

  By the time I return to our sleeping cabin, Everly is fast asleep. The bedcovers are pooled around her waist and her mahogany-colored hair is spread across the pillow. She’s wearing a small tank top that barely conceals her round breasts.

  Desire surges inside of me, but I ignore my needs to cross the room and pull the blackout shade down. I have two choices at this moment. One, sleep in the bunk across from her. Two, sleep under her in the same bunk.

  Everly’s eyes open. “Why are you standing there?”

  I cut off the remaining lights and take off my clothes. “I’m trying to decide where to sleep.”

  My eyes adjust to the darkness just as she scoots over and lifts the covers. “With me.”

  I don’t argue. I don’t ask to make sure it’s what she really wants. All I want is sleep and her, and she’s giving me the chance to have both.

  I climb in and lie on my side, fitting her against me. She sighs, her body relaxing against mine in slow degrees until she’s asleep once more.

  Stroking the soft skin of her bare arm, I calculate how much time we have left before Ben joins us, and how much time is left on the hit that’s still out on my half-brother’s life. Despite Viktor’s demise, the financier has not withdrawn his or her request.

  When I asked Everly to come with me to meet my grandfather, I had also told her of a charity event that we would attend, lest she think I was trying to kidnap or murder her.

  I grunt at the irony.

  The charity event is to take place in two days in Barcelona, and my half-brother, Sebastian, will be there.

  Perhaps I should go to warn him. But would he believe me? The few times I’ve met him—introduced as his cousin—he was a prick. Then again, he was a teenager back then, and they’re all pricks.

  Everly snuggles into me, her round ass brushing against my dick, and I start to harden.

  Brilliant.

  Forcing my brain off, I concentrate on the sound of the train, the noise it makes as it skims the rails, the evenness of Everly’s breathing, and the drip of the water into our sink.

  My lids start to droop. I press my nose into her hair and breathe deeply. The scent of my woman calms and inflames me.

  Turning slightly, I glance at my mobile and note the time. The train will stop in Paris in a few hours. Time enough for me to sleep and make plans.

  Though Ben helped me rescue Everly, I don’t completely trust him. I don’t trust anyone at this point but the woman in my arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I am cleaning my gun while thinking of the best way to get Everly safely back to America when she wakes up. She pushes her hair out of her face and looks at me. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly 10:00 a.m.”

  “Are we almost there?”

  “Less than an hour. You slept through Paris.”

  She frowns. “I would have liked to have seen the Eiffel Tower.”

  Inspecting the chamber, I say, “Perhaps when this is over.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugs, swings her legs over the mattress and stands up. I try not to stare at the way her breasts strain against the thin material of her shirt as she stretches. I try not to notice that her nipples are hard, or that the panties she’s wearing are barely scraps of lace sewn together.

  But she notices me watching, and hurries to dress. “I’m hungry.”

  “There is breakfast on the table.” I nod at the bag. “Help yourself.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  She stops going through the bag to look at me. “Not just for this, but for saving me. Thank you.”

  Uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation, I try to change the subject. “Ben will meet us for lunch at the hotel café.”

  Walking to me, she squats in front of me. “I mean it, Roman. Thank you.”

  Setting the now-clean gun beside me, I look her in the eye. “It is hard to be thanked for something that is my fault.”

  A tender smile covers her face. She touches my cheek. “You could have left me.”

  “I should have left you in Raleigh. The very first day I met you, I should have packed my things and left.”

  “But you didn’t leave me then, and you still haven’t left me.”

  “Because I’m the selfish fuck who got you caught up in this in the first place.” I hang my head.

  Everly touches my chin, lifting it. “How can I help make it better?”

  “When I give the word, I want you to run like hell for the U.S. embassy. Tell them you were kidnapped. That you escaped while I was meeting with a client, and you want to go home.”

  Bewilderment shines in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “What’s going on right now—it’s too dangerous for you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect you at all times. I can’t allow you to get hurt.”

  “Then teach me how to protect myself,” she says, surprisingly undeterred by my reasons.

  “I don’t have time.”

  She kisses my lips. “I’m not asking for you to train me to be an assassin. I’m asking for the basics, like how to load and how to fire a gun. I know we don’t have time for major self-defense lessons, but I’m a country girl from Asheville and I can scream like a banshee if it comes down to it.”

  I stare at her for a moment. “You make me proud. Any other person in a situation like this, who has endured what you have…they would be in the fetal position on the floor.”

  “A country girl can survive,” is all she says, before returning to her meal. “Does it help that I can load and shoot a rifle? When I was in high school, I won first place in cross-country shooting sports. Hitting five targets dead center while running through the woods.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “Immensely. But then, why did you need to take self-defense classes with me?”

  “Because I thought you needed it.” She pops a grape into her mouth. “There’s a big difference between sport-shooting a rifle at a target, and aiming a Glock at someone.”

  Her concern for me, like always, is nearly overwhelming. At one point, while we were in Prague, I might have had her love. I guess now, I can settle for her help.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why the change in attitude?”

  Everly levels me with a look. “Either I can continue to be the helpless victim, or I can learn how to fight back. I choose to fight. I choose to live.”

  We take a cab from the train station to Hotel Majestic. It’s situated in the middle of Barcelona. Made of light-colored stone, the seven-story building is bustling with activity when we arrive.

  After handing over our passports, we are shown to a luxury suite and left alone.

  “You sure do know how to travel,” Everly says, peering out the window.

  “Normally, I wouldn’t stay here,” I admit.

  She glances back at me. “Why not? It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s too high profile. People come here to see and be seen.” Not exactly the darkness I need to take out my latest contract.

  “Oh.” She walks around the room, taking in everything as her hands roam over the bedcovers. “What time are we meeting Benjamin?”

  “At noon, but we need to be seated before then.” I exhale. “I still don’t know if I can trust him or not.”

  Her brow arches. “So you need the home court advantage.”

  Now that phrase I know. While living in Raleigh, I became obsessed with their March Madness and support of college basketball teams. Although, my favorite was not mentioned often—the one with the Pirate mascot.

  I grin. “Exactly.”

  “And you want to sit with your back against the
wall.” She walks to me and pushes me down in a high-back chair, then straddles my lap. “That way you can see who is coming or going.”

  “You are a quick learner, Mrs. Smith,” I tease. She frowns a little, so I lean forward to whisper in her ear, “Remember, we are honeymooners in love.”

  Her head tilts to one side. “Shouldn’t we be doing more than just pretending we’re honeymooners in love?”

  I grab her hips and push up. She moans at the contact and I groan low in my throat. “What did you have in mind?”

  Her hands come between us to cup her breasts, teasing me as she pushes them together. “I was thinking of trying out the shower. I always feel so dirty after travelling.”

  My hands join hers, my thumbs rubbing over her nipples and making them hard. “What if I make you even dirtier in the shower?”

  She lowers her head to mine and sucks on my bottom lip. “Then it’s a good thing we have a lot of soap.”

  Letting go of her breasts, I grab her hips and lift her as I stand. She wraps her legs around my waist, helping me carry her to the bathroom. I nibble on her neck and ear, earning a giggle from her.

  “Prepare to get very dirty, love.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Ben is already seated by the time we arrive at the café. And chatting up a waitress. The redhead giggles as he pulls out his phone, probably texting her his number.

  I roll my eyes and place my hand on Everly’s lower back. The dress she has on dips low and my palm comes in direct contact with her skin. Skin that only minutes ago, I had the pleasure to kiss, bite, and suck. Wash. We had spent nearly the entire time in the large tub, exploring one another as jets sent streams of water everywhere.

  Everly had refused to believe that I could hold my breath under the water long enough to make her come with my tongue, but I changed her mind. Repeatedly.

  Ben spots us, that goofy grin never leaving his face as he waves us over. The waitress blows him a kiss and saunters off.

  “For someone that might be trying to kill us, he looks pretty happy to see us,” Everly points out as we move to the table.