Moving Target (Target #3)(19)

Dima and his cousin are so deep in conversation that they don’t notice when I get up from the table. Keeping my pace in check, I head toward the front of the bistro, stopping to ask where the bathrooms are, so I don’t make a liar out of Morgan when they realize I’m not coming back and question her.

I really like Morgan. She’s fun, sassy, and makes lots of jokes, but I can’t stay here. While she can be content and in love with Ben, Dima and I are on the run, and there’s no way I’m missing an opportunity to leave.

It’s for the best. I know the only reason that they’re after him is because of me, so if I go to a place where they can’t touch me, then both of us will be off the hook.

A perfectly, well-thought out plan if I say so myself.

Pushing open the door, I start asking for direction to the American Embassy. I can’t remember if there is one in Milan, but someone should be able to help me.

“Ah, yes. There is one,” says a man with a Midwestern accent.

I want to cry and hug his neck. “Thank you. Please tell me it’s in town—I lost my passport between the hotel and here. The hotel doesn’t have it. The restaurant doesn’t either.”

He sucks in air through his teeth. “You’re in luck. We’re near the center of the city, so the embassy is only a couple of blocks over.”

I look around. Everything looks the same to me, and I don’t have the means to grab a taxi or even a phone to use Google Maps.

“Do you mind taking me there? I get lost easily.”

He gives me a once over. “Yeah. You remind me of my little sister.”

I laugh. “When you see her, tell her you are a great big brother.”

We start to walk, and I almost have to run to keep up with his long strides. “You can’t be too careful these days. No one is ever who they seem.”

“You’re right. Bad guys look like the good guys while the good guys are actually the mafia or something.”

He laughs, grabbing my hand. “This way.”

“Oh, sorry.” Warning bells go off in my head. “You can let go now.”

“Like I said, you remind me of my little sister and she gets lost easily.”

Stopping, I yank my hand out of his grip. “While I appreciate that, I’m a grown woman who can take directions or follow you there.” I smile at him, so I don’t give off a total bitch vibe.

“You’re right.” He holds up his hand. “I apologize.”

“Thanks.”

We come to an intersection. I look both ways before starting across the street. The man grabs me again.

“I’m truly sorry.”

“If you’d stop grabbing me, you’d have nothing to apologize for,” I point out.

“I’m not apologizing for grabbing you.”

“Then what are you—?”

He pulls me into a deserted alleyway where a car waits.

I dig in my heels, and then kick at him, silently thanking Dima for thinking of this kind of footwear. This time, I’m able to suck in enough air to scream for help.

However, just like last time, no one comes. My heart sinks and my pulse races. How could I be so stupid to leave Dima?

“Don’t make me hurt you, little one. I am supposed to deliver you without harm done to your body.”

I stiffen in fear. “Deliver me to who?”

“That is of no importance. You are worth a lot of money.” He drags me closer to his car.

“Please, don’t. I have money. I know a guy who has a ton of money,” I lie. I actually don’t know anyone with a ton of money.

“Not interested in just the money. Favors will be rewarded. My rank will be reinstated.”

“But you’re an American,” I protest.

“Nyet.”

Stark fear makes my blood run cold. “Americans don’t say no in Russian.”

“Let’s go, little one. You can sit up front if you promise to be a good.”

“She won’t be. She’ll talk your ear off and make you want to toss her off into the nearest ravine.” Dima steps into the alley, gun drawn. His cousin Benjamin is at his back. Even Morgan is here.

Her eyes narrow at me, but a glimmer of a smile curves her lips, like she’s proud of me or something.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth to them all, but only Morgan nods. Benjamin and Dima keep their guns trained on the asshat holding me for ransom.

“Let go of her and we can deal with one another like proper gentleman.”

“You had your chance, Romanov. It’s not my fault you can’t deliver.”

Dima’s face grows dark.

“I think you just hit a sore spot with him,” I mutter.

“Shut—“

Dima slams his fist into the guy’s face and he goes down like a ton of bricks, almost taking me with him. I fall to my knees, my arms flailing and searching for support.

“I got you.” Dima helps me stand. “Are you all right?”

I nod. “He didn’t hurt me. He wanted to deliver me to someone for money, favor, and reinstatement.”

Dima glances at Benjamin, and I don’t miss the look between them.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“If it was nothing, then the two of you wouldn’t have had a silent meeting-of-the-minds look.”