Died without knowing. I know what he’s thinking. I know how his mind works.
“Clever girls know the unsaid is sometimes more important than what’s said,” I say, repeating the words he’d spoken once upon a time in a stuffy wooden shed. It already seems like a lifetime ago.
He presses our foreheads together, his warm breath bathing my face. “Goddamn, Mina.” His anguish is so palpable I can feel it seeping through my skin.
“It’s over,” I whisper. “I’m all right.” A stark image of Ilya with a shotgun in his hands suddenly invades my memory. “How about Ilya? He wasn’t hurt, was he?”
He pulls away and smiles. “The butthead is right outside, anxious as fuck to see you.”
“Tell me what happened first.” I still have too many questions.
His expression becomes closed-off. “There’s plenty to tell, but you should get better first.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really what?”
“You’re going to treat me like a fragile girl who faints at the mention of guns and blood?”
Sighing, he shakes his head. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Hopefully lots, when I can get my legs to cooperate again.”
His eyes darken with lust. “You have no idea. The things I want to do…” Catching himself, he only shakes his head again.
“Hanna?”
“Don’t worry. She’s already been to see you. I told her you’d been shot by someone who held a vendetta against you from your military days.”
“Did she believe you?”
He grins. “I’m not sure. I thought I’d let you handle it how you see fit.”
“What about Lena?”
“She’s been very supportive.” A shadow passes over his face. “She’s letting us stay here until you’ve recovered fully.”
I try to sit up, but it hurts like a bitch.
“Easy.” Yan darts forward, helping me into a more comfortable position. “Adami did an ultrasound. You don’t have any internal damage, but you’ve got to be careful not to tear your stitches.”
“Are they all dead?”
“Yes.” Hatred makes the sharp angles of his face look harder. “Every last one of them.”
“Tell me.” He won’t deny me twice.
His strained voice betrays how difficult it is to relive the event. “When we realized it was a trap, Ilya and I split up. I went over the roof as planned while he took the stairs to go back via the hallway. That way, I could go to your aid, and he could ward off an attack in case they decided to come after us on the roof. Best-case scenario, we could trap them between us in the suite with me coming in from the balcony and Ilya from the hallway. The fuckers were overconfident. They thought having us outnumbered was enough.” He sneers. “They were waiting for us inside. I shot one as I came down from the roof. At the same time, Ilya broke down the door. That’s when they realized we had them trapped between us with no way out. They took cover, we took cover, and a big shootout followed. We might’ve been outnumbered, but they had the disadvantage of having to defend their fronts and backs.” More tension invades his big body. “In the meantime, you were locked in the bedroom with Dimitrov and his art guy.”
“I don’t think he was an art expert.”
“Whatever he was,” Yan says icily, “it’s a good thing Ilya killed him before I got my hands on him. It took us long enough to take out the five guards. I was going out of my mind by the time I could finally get to you.” If fury could be condensed into a color, it would be the brilliant jade-green of his eyes. Reaching over, he clasps my hand in a gentle hold. “Did that fucker Dimitrov touch you?”
“He tried, but I gave him a good run for his money.”
Yan’s hold on me tightens. “Fuck, Mina, I always knew you were dangerous, but I never could’ve guessed how much until I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Did Ilya shoot the man who shot me? Things became a bit blurry at the end.”
Yan inhales deeply, releasing my hand. Nostrils flaring, he says, “Ilya took a shotgun off one of the guards. He blew the bastard’s head off.”
One question burns in the forefront of my mind. “Who gave us away?”
Yan stills. Just when I think he’s not going to reply, he answers my question with another question. “Who did you tell about our plans?”
My whole body jerks, my skin going cold. It can’t be. I only told one person, and I trust him with my life. It’s impossible. But the longer Yan and I look at each other, the more I’m forced to face the answer. If Yan, Ilya, and Anton didn’t tell anyone, and I only told Gergo…
“The hotel manager, our connection…” I say, grabbing at straws.
“Who did you tell, Mina?”
“The disguise vendor or copy artist could’ve leaked the information. Maybe your apartment was bugged or my call to Dimitrov tapped.”
“My place is clean and our phones weren’t tapped. We scan them on a daily basis. It wasn’t the disguise man or your artist contact.” The determined set of his jaw tells me he’s not going to let me hide from the truth. “Who did you tell?”
Covering my face with my hands, I admit the horrific truth not only to Yan, but also to myself. “Gergo. Gergo Nagy.”
“When you warned him.” He pulls my hands away. “Look at me, Mina. When you warned him that day here at this very clinic.”
“No.” I swallow. “Not here. He followed us to Prague. He slipped into the changing booth at the boutique where we bought the dress for my Petrova disguise.”
Yan looks like he’s about to explode. “He did what?”
“You were engrossed in your work.” I stare at my hands, unable to meet Yan’s harsh gaze. “He said he wanted to help me escape. I was worried he’d kill you. I said I needed the money from the Dimitrov job, but he wouldn’t let it go, so I gave him just enough to set him at ease. I never thought
