Escape From Paradise (41 page)

“Angela—”

“No! If he says we’re even, then we are. He always has to have the last word, and I know it sounds crazy, but he has this strange sense of fucked up honor. He means what he says.”

Colin’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want that fucker having the last word this time or ever again. And he hated that Angela knew that bastard well enough to say that.

“Please,” Angela begged. The sadness in her thick voice killed him. “He’s taken enough from me. I can’t lose you too.” Her sobbing renewed, but this time her head went to his lap, her tears soaking the fabric at his thighs, and he pulled her up to his chest, holding her tight.

“You can’t save the fucking world,” Graham said. “You can’t fight them all. What’s the use if it gets you killed? You’ve done enough!”

Graham had never vocalized that he wanted Colin to stop what he did for a living. Hearing it took a bit of the angry wind out of Colin’s sails.

Angela gripped his shirt. “Swear to me. Say you’ll never go back there. Swear you’ll never try to get revenge.” When he said nothing, she began to punch his chest with fury. “
Swear it!
”

Colin wouldn’t lie to her. From what he knew of Marco, he believed what Angela said was true, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Still, he took her hands firmly and made the most difficult promise of his life.

“I won’t go back. I swear it.”

She collapsed into him, and even Graham let his head fall back and his eyes close, as if consoled by the sound of his brother’s promise.

It was hard to imagine a life that didn’t consist of hunting down criminals and trying to erase them. He’d done a lot, but it didn’t feel like enough. It was never enough. He wanted to destroy them all, burn the entire underworld of slavery, but that’s not what Angela or Graham would have him do. They were all he had. They were his life now. Could he dedicate himself solely to keeping them safe and happy?

Staring down at Angela’s sweet, tear stained face, and the familiar slope of his little brother’s nose, the answer was clear.

Yes. Yes, he could make a life out of being there for them. A life fueled by love instead of hate—hope instead of fear. He would do that for them. For himself. He would attempt to rebuild for them a tiny piece of what’d been stolen.

At the airport Abernathy flashed a badge and sped to the terminals, slamming on the brakes next to the private jet.

“Get in touch someday when you’re settled,” Abernathy said, turning to hold out his hand.

Colin slapped his hand into the older gentleman’s and shook it, holding on longer than normal as they spoke many thanks through their eyes. Abernathy nodded and pulled his hand away.

“Go, and try to find yourself some happiness, aye? Off with ya.”

They slid out of the car and up the steps of the plane.

Colin allowed himself one last look over the Scottish landscape before saying good-bye to his homeland, likely forever.

People in our Russian community called us Nico and Eliska, but at home we were still Colin and Angela. Graham left us two years ago for New York City to chase his dreams, something that made Colin and I happy despite missing him. He left the day after Colin became my husband.

The doves on the fire escape outside our apartment window were loud that early morning. The sun was barely awake. When I stirred, Colin’s hand went around my waist, spooning me from behind and pressing his morning erection against my ass. His warm, steady breaths at the back of my neck signaled he was still half asleep.

He usually woke earlier than me to work out, so we didn’t often get to have morning sex. I fully planned to take advantage of it now.

I slid my underwear down, letting my backside wiggle against him. He pushed my hair aside and kissed the back of my neck.

“Is there something you’d like to ask for, my little lassie?”

“Please, Mr. Douglas, may I touch you?”

“Mm, aye, you may. Such a good little girl.”

I reached behind me and encircled his cock, both of us moaning as I arched my back and led him inside me. Sex was the only time I could get away with calling him Mr. Douglas. It no longer carried the weight of his time as a pseudo patron. We’d taken back the power of those words. When he owned me now, it was for our pleasure. It was a relationship born of trust.

We rocked against each other, his grip on my hip helping him to push deeper. I squirmed, reaching back over my head to feel the familiar fuzz of his head as my ass circled, driving him crazy.

“You are so fucking incredible,” he said into my neck. His hand left my hip, letting me control the pace of the thrusts, and he reached up to palm my swollen breast, squeezing with enough pressure to make me cry out. Then his hand slid down between my thighs and gently pinched my clit. I gasped and pressed my hand over his, making him press harder.

As he worked me faster, both with his hand and from behind I felt an orgasm building. The arm underneath him reached up and his hands tangled in my hair, gripping enough to make me gasp as he pulled back to run his scruff across my jaw. I shouted the pleasure of my release loud enough for the neighbors to hear, just the way he liked. He followed right behind me, coming deep inside me and practically growling, just the way
I
liked.

Afterward we lay there coming down together, him still inside me.

“Well, good morning,” he purred against my shoulder.

I smiled. His hand slid up and stopped on my rounded belly, fingers splaying across my taut skin. I placed my hand on top of his.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Good,” I was happy to admit. The first trimester had been awful. I was physically sick, and emotionally scared out of my mind. We hadn’t planned to get pregnant. Ever. It had been too frightening to think of having a tiny innocent to care for and protect. But we’d also lost so much, that the thought of another person to love, no matter how scary, was also exhilarating.

I was disappointed when Colin slowly pulled out and sat up, grabbing a towel to clean my thighs. He tossed it to the hamper and leaned down to kiss my lips, then placed a kiss to my tummy before standing.

“Latch the door behind me,” he said, just as he did every single time he left the apartment.

“I will.”

The bolt lock clicked into place as he left for his run. I slipped on a robe and slid the chain at the top of the door, then went to our window, watching Colin as he exited our building into the chilled morning and scouted the surroundings before setting off on his jog.

I touched the glass, my chest squeezing at the thought of anything happening to him. Each time he left to run or work odd jobs—construction, painting, uprooting trees, anything to keep his hands busy—I watched him go.

We wouldn’t be staying in Russia much longer. We’d already lived in three parts of the country, deciding we would move every year of our lives. Forever. With each fresh start we felt a renewed sense of safety, and we needed that feeling now more than ever. In two weeks we were off to France.

I was excited about the small cottage we’d secured, but I would miss the Russian girls I’d been working with. I moonlighted part time as a counselor to rape victims, and I’d even come across a couple girls who’d been slaves at one time. Abernathy had doctored up fake credentials to allow seeking these kinds of jobs, and I only felt the slightest bit guilty about lying to employers.

If I could use my past to help one girl realize she had self-worth and a future worth living, then I would lie about my education a thousand times to make it happen.

I often wondered about Josef, Perla, Mia, and Jin. I was certain they were still with Marco. I prayed they were safe, and experiencing as much happiness as possible. But I ached at the opportunities of love they were being denied. Perla loved Marco, but to be loved in return was key. I counted my blessings daily.

Marco once said that it was like acquiring me had been “meant to be.” I’d hated him for saying it—for making light of something so dark. But now I wondered…was it all meant to be? I would have never met Colin. He was likely to have never stopped seeking justice, only to have his own life taken. And I would have never been able to administer to the hearts and minds of the abused girls I’d come across.

I didn’t know what to believe. All I knew was even through the daily grief, I was thankful. I refused to let it all be for nothing. Because even within all the ugliness of the world there was beauty. Some of it needed to be pulled from the dirt and dusted off, given wings.

I had to hope there would be justice—if not in this life, then in the hereafter.

A half hour later my stomach dipped and lifted at the sight of Colin returning, sweat beading at his faint hairline. I listened for the click of the bolt and his secret knock before unlatching the top lock. Inside he secured the locks again and kissed my temple.

“I don’t think we should wait two weeks,” he said. His brow was furrowed.

“Did something happen?”

“Nae,” he admitted. But he worried. Always.

“Okay. Let me say good-bye to the girls, and we can leave tomorrow.”

He closed his eyes and nodded before kissing me again. “Thank you.”

I absently rubbed my belly and watched him strip down and head for the shower. I wished I could take away his constant fear, but it was part of how he showed his love. The thing was, I knew Marco wasn’t coming for us. He might be keeping dibs, just in case we ever crossed him again, but I felt with certainty he would leave us be. Marco had never wanted me dead. And I’d seen the look of disappointment in his eyes when Colin turned on him. He’d thought of him as a protege.

I couldn’t think about what he’d done to my parents. If I went down that road I’d be depressed for days. My parents would have willingly given their lives for mine any day, but that doesn’t make it okay. The world lost two wonderful people because of one man who thought he could create paradise. The scary thing about Marco was that he believed he was a good guy. He believed he had the right to take lives at his will, to maintain his lifestyle of pseudo perfection. But what he didn’t realize was that nothing was perfect.

Nothing except love.

Colin came out of the shower, still wet with a towel over his shoulders. I grinned at him, and he came straight to me, covering my mouth with his, the clean smell of him surrounding us. He pulled away and held both ends of the towel, eyeing me.

“To your knees, woman.”

I dropped my eyes and smiled to myself, obeying.

This book was far out of my comfort zone to write. The idea had plagued me for a while, and I’ve come to learn as a writer that it’s best to get it out, good or bad. But putting story ideas to paper, and actually making it something readable and rich with detail is not a solitary endeavor. I’ve had the help of many people along the way.

I need to thank my husband for his unflinching support from the beginning, along with his “James Bond-like” expertise, ha.

Thank you to my first reader and bestie, Kelley, for pushing me to write this book, and helping me through the publishing process.

Thank you to my second readers and cheerleaders, Carol and Jill.

Thank you, Bren, for proofing my Spanish and always being at the ready to translate. Thank you Elizabeth and Paula for Scottish dialect help.

Thank you E.J. for designing my blog.

Thank you to Miss York for designing the cover and jacket.

Thank you Angela McLaurin at Fictional Formats for her gorgeous formatting.

Thank you to all the lovely readers and reviewers on Goodreads who spread the word and raised their hands to do early reviews. You guys are incredible, and you help us Indie authors immensely!

Lastly, thank you Lord for it all.