Chapter Thirty-Three
One thing Darya had learned about Dallas weather in the last many months was that it had a way of keeping you on your toes. True it wasn’t as cold as Russia, but it wasn’t predictable like San Diego either. More like a passionate child with a penchant for moodiness.
Curled up on the buttery soft leather sofa in Knox’s home office, Darya stared out at the slate gray clouds coating the horizon. Where most of the day had shone with sunlight and heat so fierce it made the air waver off the tar-covered rooftop across the street, a powerful cold front had forged its way through near six o’clock, spawning a round of thunderstorms so fierce the thunder made the whole building shake. Now rain pelted the windows and every few minutes shards of lightning pierced the landscape.
The patter of Knox’s fingers against his keypad served as a constant white noise. Almost nonstop, he’d been glued to his computer, pausing only long enough to check on her and stretch his legs. Even during his brief intermissions, his mind was obviously still at work. Never in the time since she’d worked with him had she seen him this focused. This fixated on one thing.
And she hated it.
Hated knowing that whatever he was buried in was because of her, but more so because she missed his lightness. His quirky sense of humor and razor-sharp wit.
Damn Ruslan.
Stretched out lengthwise on the sofa with her elbow braced on the back, she fisted her hand and pressed it against her mouth. Her whole damned life had been one defensive maneuver after another. First rebounding from her mother’s loss. Then running from Ruslan and losing Yefim and JJ. True, she’d been shocked and a little terrified when Sergei had shared his reasons for leaking her existence to Ruslan, but the more she thought about it, the more she saw the wisdom in his plan. For once in her life, she had the chance to take the offense instead of mere reaction. There was power in that. Freedom.
She shut her laptop and slid it onto the chocolate leather ottoman beside her. From her place across the room, she couldn’t make out any of the code displayed on Knox’s computer screens, but she’d bet their future he was looking for a way into Ruslan’s networks. Some foothold that would give him the advantage he needed to make her safe.
Another person taking a stand on her behalf. Several, actually, if you considered how his family had rallied around her.
I’m not sure where you got the idea there’s some karmic tally being kept, but to my mind, family doesn’t work that way. Especially not ours.
Ninette was right. There was nothing wrong with her wanting to give back after so many people had helped her, but there was also something to be said for holding your own. For standing up and making your own mark.
She palmed the dog tags hanging heavy between her breasts and squeezed them tight, the metal cool against her over-warm skin. “We need to talk.”
Knox’s fingers stalled the second she spoke and he canted his head just enough to bring his handsome face in profile. “Something wrong?”
Any other day, she’d have taken a different tactic. Would have started slow and moved in with logic. Today, if she had any chance of breaking through his need to shield and protect her, she’d have to go in guns blazing. “Yes.”
He spun in his chair, worry instantly wiping the tenacious focus from his face. His gaze dropped to the closed laptop in front of her then scanned the room as if it might conjure up some clue as to what was wrong. He locked on to her hand fisted around his tags and his expression shuttered. “If you’re thinking of leaving again, you can toss that idea out the window.”
“I gave you my word and my love. Whatever we do, I want us to do together.” Like a beacon, her gaze drifted to the screens behind her, gifting her with the words she needed. She refocused on him. “But we’re not together in this. It’s only you. You and your brothers. It’s my future. You are my future. I should play a part in it.”
He stood and frowned, more than a little wariness pinching his brow as he prowled toward her. “Babe, the things I’m doing take years to learn. And no way in hell would I recommend you hone your chops with some of the safeguards Ruslan’s got in place.” Reaching the couch, he sat and pulled her across his lap so she straddled his hips. “If you want to learn this side of my business, I’ll teach it to you, but one misstep with this guy and he’ll know we’re digging.”
“I’m not talking about hacking.”
Silence stretched between them for two heavy heartbeats and his mouth pressed into a hard line, too stubborn to broach the subject.
“I think Sergei’s plan is a good one,” she said. “I could—”
“No.” His chest rose and fell a little quicker, and his eyes sparked with barely contained anger. The loose grip he’d held on her hips tightened in such a way she wasn’t sure if he’d jerk her against him, or push her away. “That’s not happening. We’ll find a better way. One that doesn’t put you at risk.”
“And what if I want that risk?”
His head snapped back and his eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious.” She framed his face and let her fingers tangle in his hair. It was always unruly after he’d spent time on his computer, but it was more so today, the quirk of running his hands through it as he untangled whatever riddle kept his focus leaving him with the look of a man who’d just had a healthy tussle in bed. “My whole life I’ve reacted to events. Been the recipient of others standing up for me or giving of themselves.” She paused long enough to hold his sparking gray gaze. “I don’t want to be passive this time. I want to make a stand. To take action and claim the future I want.”
“I get that. I want it for you and I’ll help you, but not at a time when taking that stand can mean you end up dead.”
“You won’t let that happen to me. Neither will your brothers. Or Sergei. I trust you. All of you.”
His jaw slackened just enough to show she’d made a dent, so she forged ahead. “It’s the right move. The cleanest, fastest and safest one for everyone involved. Me included. Sergei knows Ruslan. Would have already planned to accommodate every scenario, but with you and your brothers aiding him, we can get this over with and move on with our lives. You know this and you’d admit it if the woman in question was anyone but me.”
He swallowed hard and his hands moved up her back as though he needed the tactile connection to ground him. “You don’t realize what you’re asking me to do.”
“I do,” she whispered, hating the wound she was asking him to inflict on himself. “I’m asking you to risk the future you’ve always wanted. But for me to walk into that future with you, I need to be whole. To know that I had a part in building it beside you.” She paused only enough to ensure the weight of what she had left to say reached him with added emphasis. “You told me the women in this family are free to live the way they want. To make their own choices. This is me making mine.”
He palmed her shoulders and squeezed, no doubt a host of arguments cued up and ready for flight on his tongue.
“Can you outwit him?” she asked before he could speak. “If it were anyone else—one of Danny or Beckett’s clients—could you pull it off?”
There it was—the unflappable confidence and certainty that had governed his every movement from the day she’d first walked into his business flashing bold and beautiful to the surface. “That’s a dirty play.”
“Dirty, but accurate. You wouldn’t hesitate. Not for a second.”
He drew in a deep breath, dropped his head against the back of the couch and let out a long sigh. He glared at the ceiling, the muscles at the back of his jaw ticking in a way that said he didn’t much care for the logistics already setting up shop in his head. “You’re right.”
“Then you agree?”
It took forever before he answered, but when he did a cautious resolution filled his stormy gaze. “I’ll talk to my brothers.”