Lie to Me by Tori St. Claire Page B

“He’s gone. You will now belong to one of his brothers. Seeing how Kaliq prefers men, I doubt it will be him. Which leaves Mohammad. And the way I hear it, he’s got a finger fetish of the pickled and jarred kind.”
    The banging on the door intensified, more fists adding to the racket, shouts escalating into an angry roar.
    Alexei glanced at the disturbance, then looked back at Sasha’s ghost-white face. “If you aren’t attached to your hand, you can stay put in your pretty little bed. Or, you can go out this window with me.”
    Her scowl narrowed, but she didn’t so much as flinch in the direction of the closet.
    Damn, she’d never been so aggravatingly stubborn before. He would have sworn she had sense. Then again, she’d been strong when she discovered what he intended to do with her. That strength, that nerve, was part of what made her so unforgettable.
    A metallic
ping
resonated from the tiles near the door as one of the pins on the hinges gave way.
    Son of a bitch, he really was going to have to throw her delectable ass out the window. He gritted his teeth, flexed one hand, and took a deep breath. “Sasha?”
    “You just killed Saeed,” she whispered.
    “Yes.” Alexei nodded, his voice softening under the weight of her contained grief. “I did, and I’m sorry for it. This isn’t the time to discuss it.”
    “You didn’t even flinch.”
    “I haven’t in a long time. Are you coming?” He shook his head. “Strike that. You’re coming. Are you getting dressed or going naked?”
    Another
ping
announced another useless hinge, and the door quaked dangerously.
    “Bastard!” The oath flew off Sasha’s lips in a vile whisper. But she raced for the closet and flung open the doors. In seconds, she emerged, dressed in loose, white linen pants, and the sheer light-blue sleeveless blouse. Sandals adorned her feet—with heels.
    Alexei let out a grunt of exasperation and jammed a finger at her shoes. “What are those?”
    Jogging for the window—quite adeptly despite the slight heel—she snapped, “The shortest pair I own.”
    Rolling his eyes, he met her at the sill and glanced down at the Mercedes on the curb beneath. At least something was going right tonight.
    Alexei banded an arm around Sasha’s waist and lifted her through the open panes. His hands worked upward along the length of her body as he lowered her, until he held her by the wrists. She dangled a good four feet from the ground.
    “Ready?” he called.
    Sasha nodded.
    Bending over as far as he dared without compromising his balance, he eased his hold on her wrists and let her drop. She landed on the grass with a sharp yelp.
    He vaulted through the window, clung to the ledge, then pushed off and landed, knees bent to absorb his weight, a few feet away from Sasha. Alexei offered her a hand.
    As she slipped her palm in his and made to stand, her delicate features morphed into a wince that cut through Alexei’s hard shell. When she tried to bear her weight, stumbled, and refused his offered support at her elbow, he felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. He’d done it now—destroyed whatever had once been between them. Shredded whatever brief emotion colored the way she’d whispered his name.
    Probably better that way. She’d just seen a glimpse of the man he really was, and she clearly didn’t like it. No way, no how, would she ever embrace the full truth of what Alexei had become.
    But he’d be damned if her repulsion got them both killed.
    He tucked an arm around her waist, swiped her off her feet, and ran to the waiting car. Wasting no time, he stuffed her through the open backseat door, then climbed in beside her. As she crawled into the farthest corner, her glower fierce like a threatening storm, Grigoriy flashed him a grin in the rearview mirror.
    “Nothing like a little excitement, huh?”
    A gunshot cracked through the night, then pinged against the top of the bulletproof Mercedes. Out of habit Alexei shielded his face