I had zero intentions of moving out. But my plan wasn’t going quite as easily as I’d imagined. The Nate I remembered would have jumped at the chance to get with a girl like me. But he wasn’t biting. Instead, he was backing away and trying to send me packing. Of course, this only made me want him more. Over the years we’d been apart, he’d turned into a gentleman—at least where I was concerned. Problem was, I didn’t want a gentleman. I wanted Nate. Down and dirty. Just the way I remembered.

Staring down at myself, I took in what I had to offer. Medium breasts, but perky, as he’d pointed out. A decent waist and, I could admit, a larger butt, that led down to long legs. Boys at school had told me I was pretty—of course, that was when they were trying to get into my pants.

I worked out, took self-defense and kickboxing electives. Not a vamp by any stretch, but I wasn’t a plain Jane. And I could have sworn Nate had been affected by me. His pupils dilated, his breathing faster. I didn’t have the nerve to look down and try to spot a stiffy, but I suspected he was attracted to me.

So what was I doing wrong?

“Did you drop something?” Opal walked into the breakfast room and gave me a questioning look.

“No.” I smoothed down my dress. “I was just, um…” I had no real explanation for why I was staring down at myself, so I changed the subject. “Nate said I could redecorate my room.”

Opal gathered the plates. I reached for the empty glasses, but she waved me away. “This is my job. Been that way since before you were born.”

“Okay.” I moved out of her way as she efficiently cleared the table. “But do you think we could shop later?”

“I’ve got some chores to do, but I’m sure Mr. Franco wouldn’t mind you shopping without me.” She paused and met my gaze. “But make sure you take Hargut with you. You know who I mean, right?”

“Yeah.” I’d seen him every day for five years straight. I could recognize him even if he dressed in drag.

“He can pay for the things you want.” She finished gathering the dishes. “I’ll see you when you get back, and we can work on changing the room.”

“Thanks.”

She smiled, her motherly eyes warming me a bit. “Anytime.”

I turned and walked into the marble foyer, a sparkling chandelier overhead casting a gentle light along the wide staircase. Nate had already left, gone out to do whatever it was mob bosses did. I supposed I should have been more concerned about his profession, but I was the daughter of a Bratva drug importer and his mistress. I’d watched him die when I was just a child, and, at the time, I’d been slated to die right along with him. But through some twist of fate, the hitman had taken pity on me, stolen me away, and had me adopted into a nice family.

But it didn’t take long for the life to catch up with me. I was taken, my adoptive family murdered, and then I was thrown directly into Nate’s path. He’d saved me. The moment I’d seen him in that blood-soaked house when I was barely thirteen, I knew he would be my world. Now at eighteen, nothing had changed for me. Even though Nate seemed more world-weary, had collected a few more scars, he was still the man who made me feel safe despite the nightmares dancing around me.

I took the steps to my room and quickly changed into a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. No need to show the goods off to anyone but Nate. Pounding back downstairs, I found Hargut standing at the front door talking to the armed guard.

“Hi. Did Opal tell you about the shopping?”

“Yep.” Hargut smiled and held out a beefy hand. “I guess it’s long past time for us to meet.”

I took his bear paw and shook, finally getting a close look at my longtime shadow. Mid-fifties, portly, and with thin, graying hair, he had a quintessential dad bod. But he had a warm smile and kind eyes.

“And this is George.” He gestured to the guard.

“Nice to meet you.” His gaze slid down my body before he met my eyes. Mid-forties, salt-and pepper hair, and with a strong build, he seemed like a good choice for security, even if I didn’t care for the way he looked at me. “So you two are going shopping?”

“Right.” I forced a smile. “I want to redecorate my room.”

George grinned. “Going to stay a while, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good.” He gave me another once-over as silence fell between us.

My skin began to crawl under his scrutiny.

Hargut cleared his throat, pulling my attention away from George. “I watched you grow up from a little girl to this.” He opened the door for me. “Kept an eye on you as if you were my own. Straight A’s, good scholarship, all those extracurriculars. I never missed one of your soccer games.”

The pride in his voice surprised me. I turned and met his eye. “I didn’t realize you were so involved.” Happy to escape George’s intense gawking, I walked out into the morning sun.

Leading me to a black SUV, Hargut continued, “I have a daughter that’s about fifteen years older than you. When she was little, I didn’t get a chance to do all the things with her that I should have. The job, you know?” He walked around to the driver’s side, and we both climbed in. “I know it sounds silly, but with you, it was sort of like I had a second chance at it. To do what I should have done and support you, even if you didn’t know I was there. When the assignment came up, I jumped at the chance. Nate trusted me enough to let me be your protector, and that was that.”

“Wow, that’s so…sweet.” I looked at him with a newfound appreciation. I barely remembered my real father. My adoptive father was kind but distant. And, other than that, I hadn’t had much experience with fatherly types. “I didn’t know you actually paid attention to all that stuff.”

“I did. Watching you grow showed me what I’d missed with my own little girl.” He put the car in gear and eased down the long driveway to the road. “My daughter would say too little, too late. She’s a doctor in New York City now. Barely even calls or comes by to visit—even when I was assigned to you at that school right outside the city.” He sighed, and then forced a smile. “But that’s the past. I hear you’re looking to redecorate your room? Want to bring it up to date?”

“That’s the idea.” I nodded. “And…well, thanks. For watching out for me.”

“You were pretty easy to take care of. No meddling with boys or drugs or any of that. A real straight arrow.” He smiled, that same glimmer of pride in his eyes.

My own began to mist, so I slid my shades on.

He waved at the guards hovering around the front gate. “What are you feeling? Want to try King of Prussia?”

“Sure. I’m down for some mall ratting.” I settled in for the ride. “What did you do for the syndicate before you became my guardian?”

He shot me a sideways glance. “Nothing good.” The butt of the pistol pressing against his suit coat backed up his words.

“How long have you known Nate?” Getting whatever information I could on him seemed like a good idea.

“Oh, let’s see. I knew his old man—may he rest in peace. So I probably met Nate about the time he was ten years old or thereabouts. I may have known him earlier, but he didn’t do anything memorable until he was ten.”

I perked up in my seat as Hargut guided the car onto the freeway. “What did he do?”

He laughed, the sound bubbling up from his round belly. “He was full of piss and vinegar at ten, already raising hell in the neighborhood, running game with his friends, and hanging with Conrad Mercer and his old man.”

I shivered. “The hitman.”

“Right. Con’s retired now—or dead, depending on who you ask—so don’t you worry about him. I know your history there, but I can guarantee you that the last thing Con ever wanted was to hurt you. He saved your life, right?”

A flashback of the barrel of his gun pointed at me when I was just a child skittered through my mind.

“He didn’t kill me.” I wasn’t sure if that was quite the same as saving my life.

Hargut nodded, as if he, too, noted the difference. “Well, all that’s over with. Going to make something of yourself instead of hanging around with the likes of Nate and me.”

“I’m going to talk Nate into letting me stay at the house.” I flipped on the air conditioning and started fiddling with the radio knob.

“That’s not, ah, that’s not what the plan is.”

I shrugged and stopped on a popular music station, Justin Timberlake’s newest song rippling through the speakers. “Maybe it’s not your plan, but it’s mine.”

“Wouldn’t you rather stay somewhere closer to school?” he offered gently.

“I already had this conversation with Nate.” I sighed and stared at the cars next to us. Apparently, we hadn’t gotten the memo that it was white SUV day, since there were three white Range Rovers blocking my view.

“Nate has your best interests at heart. He always has. That’s why he sent you away from all this. You needed structure. Going to school and figuring out the sort of woman you wanted to be. That’s what Nate wanted for you.”

“Nate doesn’t even know me.” Frustration coated my words. “He hasn’t made an effort to get to know me. He just sent me off to school, told you to tag along, and kept living his life while I wasn’t in it.”

He glanced at me. “I didn’t realize Nate was so important to you.”

“He saved me.” I shrugged. How could I explain that Nate hadn’t just pulled me out of a dangerous situation, but that in the weeks following, he’d made me feel safe in a way I never had, not even when I lived with my adoptive family? If I tried to tell Hargut, he’d probably brush it off as some sort of juvenile crush, and maybe I wouldn’t blame him. After all, I was eighteen and Nate was thirty-three. But the deepest part of me—the part that had an absentee mother, a father who was murdered before her eyes, and a life that only looked on the outside like it was normal—couldn’t shake the bond that linked me to Nate. He was the one I imagined holding me every night at boarding school as I struggled with my nightmares. And when I got older, I had plenty more imaginings that morphed from G to NC-17 at the speed of puberty. I’d never pictured being with anyone else. Nate and I were braided together, our threads intertwining from the first moment we met. I couldn’t explain it, but the link was real, and sometimes, when I’d remember the violence of my past on dark, lonely nights, that link was the only thing that kept me grounded.

The air had grown heavy between us as I’d sank back into blood-soaked memories, the car too quiet under the sound of the wind and the tires.

Hargut cleared his throat and drummed his fingers on the gear shift. “So, what sort of décor are you looking for?”

Grateful for the reprieve from my thoughts, I said, “Something blue maybe. Some light gray walls with a china blue bedspread is sort of what I’m envisioning.”

“Classy.” He nodded and turned onto the King of Prussia exit. “We can always get some different furniture, too, if you don’t like what—”

Gunfire shattered Hargut’s window, and he slumped over the steering wheel as the white Range Rovers hemmed us in. My scream was drowned out by the sound of metal on metal as the cars scraped alongside, guiding us to the shoulder and easing to a stop.

“Hargut!” I reached across the center console and shook him, but he lolled to the side, unmoving.

The SUV against my door backed up, and two men got out and approached. I felt inside Hargut’s coat and wrapped my hand around the butt of his gun as my window shattered and the door was wrenched open.

I pulled the gun from the holster and swung it around.

“You going to shoot me, little girl?” A thick Russian accent greeted me as the man at the end of my barrel smirked, his blond hair light in the sun but his dark eyes stone cold.

I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

He grinned and yanked the gun from my hand before grabbing a handful of my hair and hauling me out of the car. Fire raced down my scalp as he yanked. Speaking in Russian to his men, he walked me to the nearest Range Rover and shoved me in the back, then climbed in behind me as a cacophony of honking horns and shouting cut through the air.

“Idti!” He slapped his hand on the driver’s headrest, and we shot down the ramp. I glanced back, but Hargut hadn’t moved.

Go. He said go. I thought I’d lost all my Russian after I was adopted, but some words still made sense.

The man slung his arm around my shoulders and pulled me tight to his side as we turned back onto the freeway and headed downtown.

“Get off me.” I tried to shove him away, but he wrapped his hand around my throat and slammed me against the seat.

“Stop fighting, kukla.” His dark eyes pierced mine. “You are mine now. My perfect little doll.” He glanced to my lips. “Don’t you remember me?”

I tried to shake my head, but he closed his palm tighter around my throat even as I clawed his wrist.

“Your father and I were close. I was his apprentice. Fourteen years old.”

A spark of memory tried to surface. A blond boy who helped my father with the powder while I played with my dolls. A boy who never spoke to me. Dmitri, my father called him.

He laughed, but the cold sound was like sharp nails raking down my mind. “I say apprentice, but your father found more uses for me than simply learning the drug trade.” His eyes bored into me as his voice dropped to a hiss. “Did you know your father preferred boys? Did you know how he liked to hold them down? Hold me down?”

I tried to shake my head but got nowhere.

“Your father said that a piece of trash like me should never go near a beautiful girl like you. His little doll.” The explosive anger rolling off him made the fear inside me ferment to all-out terror. “If only he could see us now.” He kept the grip on my neck as he used his other hand to stroke my cheek. “Finally together.”

“Let me go.” The words barely carried.

“Never.” He smiled and moved closer, his warm breath against my lips. “You’re mine now. That idiot Nate never should have let you out of the house. Especially now that you’ve grown up so beautifully. Your father didn’t have any finesse. Not like I do. I’m going to ruin his precious little doll. I’ve already ruined his other toy.” He ran his hand down my neck, my chest, and cupped my breast. “But I’m going to do you slowly. You deserve a thorough job.”

I tried to wrench his wrist away, but he only gripped me harder until I cried out.

“My little kukla. I can’t wait to get you home so I can enjoy every last bit of you.”

He held out a hand and snapped his fingers. I was too afraid to look anywhere but in his eyes. Fight or flight wrestled inside me, but his grip told me I wasn’t going anywhere. And his size—at least two-hundred pounds of muscle and rage—reinforced that fact. I needed a weapon.

“What are you going to do?” The weak words poured from my lips.

He smirked, a cruel twist of his lips. “Whatever I want.” Yanking me forward, he wrapped a black hood over my head. An antiseptic scent filled my nose, and I tried not to breathe. My lungs began to burn as the men spoke in rapid Russian. They were agitated, their voices rising. All I could make out was that someone was following us.

“Fucking Hargut.” Dmitri shoved me to the side.

My lungs felt as if they would burst, and I had to take a breath. Screeching tires and shouts were the last things I heard before everything disappeared into the inky black fabric before my eyes.