Mikhail pulled himself together. “Right. I will get you those papers of Natalia’s. Meet me here the morning after tomorrow and I will have what you need. You should watch your backs. Regardless of his plans for your press conference tomorrow, he will want you dead now that you have taken the blueprint. Both of you.”
Dylan stood up and placed a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “Just let him fucking try.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sarah felt vulnerable and exposed as Dylan drove them through the wide London boulevard in the sports car he’d borrowed from Adam. He’d decided to drive this car in the hope that it would throw off anyone who might be tracking them, but Sarah felt conspicuous in it – it was a red flashy attention-seeker. She knew Dylan had meant it when he said he’d never let anything happen to her, but knowing she was on a Russian hit-list was making her jittery. If a lone gunman decided to take a shot at them, Dylan wouldn’t be able to stop a speeding bullet. He was a super man; but not Superman. They’d refrained from rolling down the convertible roof for obvious reasons…
London flowed by outside the car window. People of all shapes, sizes, and backgrounds were busily absorbed in their lives – swarming over the sidewalks, in and out the grocery stores, and down the subways. They were all occupied with their own little dramas, just as Sarah was. She wondered whether any of them were feeling the lightness of love today, as she was. She hoped so – she wished everyone could feel this gorgeous contentment all the time. She imagined everyone would instinctively be kinder to each other if their hearts were full of love. Or – she wondered – were any of those busy people out there on the run from the Russian mafia? Unlikely. But it was guaranteed they’d have some sort of problems of their own. Everyone did. She noticed a sprawling oak tree in the middle of a sidewalk, whose roots were forcing their way up through the concrete. It was taking its time to perform this reclamation of nature. But Sarah could see it was determined…
She pulled her thoughts back to the car and glanced over at Dylan as he manoeuvred his way through the lanes of traffic, resting her gaze on his lean powerful fingers.
He caught her staring. “I can’t wait to run my hands all over your sweet body, Sarah. I’m tempted to pull over so I can fuck you right here and now.”
She laughed, feeling her muscles relax slightly. “A massage would definitely be welcome from your strong hands right now.”
“It’s a deal.”
Dylan slowed down at the stop lights and they exchanged a smutty glance, which gently morphed into something more loving; more stable. Sarah grinned as her body was drenched with loving happiness. In some ways, this was quite exciting – sitting in a sports car with the man of her dreams, cruising through London, on the run.
He reached over and squeezed her thigh. “You got any plans today? Other than staying out of the firing line of the Russian government?”
“Hmm… Let me just check my diary.” Sarah flicked through some make-believe pages. “Nope, I think I’m free to let you fuck me all afternoon.”
The lights changed and Dylan put his foot on the gas, making it rev wildly. Sarah laughed. He definitely seemed to be lightening up, which was so good to see. Especially considering the circumstances they’d found themselves in.
Dylan steered the car into a narrower road towards his place. The rectangular four-storey Georgian buildings and the one-way traffic down here made the street feel cramped. The sidewalk was narrow on both sides – as if it had been built as an afterthought. Sarah glanced up and realised there were plenty of looming buildings for a sniper to sit and wait… She shoved these thoughts away. Get a grip!
Dylan rubbed her knee, ever cool and collected. “I can’t wait to get you stripped and ready for me.”
Sarah opened her mouth to say something dirty in reply, but she was suddenly jolted forward in her seat as a car behind crashed into them. Her body tensed with panic – was this the Russians trying to run them off the road?
“Oh that’s just fucking great,” Dylan said, opening the door to climb out.
She grabbed his shirt. “Wait, what if it’s a trap?”
Dylan glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Sweetheart, the guy who hit us looks like a soccer hooligan. He’s driving a Ford Escort. I hardly think he’s working for the Russian mafia.”
She let go. “Okay, but be careful.”
He caressed her cheek. “Stay here. I’ll get his details and we’ll go hideout somewhere safe, okay. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
He leaned over and kissed her hard, then climbed out. Sarah watched as he strolled over to the other side of the road to speak to the guy who’d hit them. He was already taking photos with his phone, and Dylan was right – he did look like a typical soccer fan – he had a shaved head and a grubby white T-shirt, and his belly bulged over his jeans from too many beers and post-pub kebabs.
Sarah wound down the window and watched as the two men sized each other up. She felt self-conscious sitting here as the traffic tried to squeeze its way around the two collided vehicles. But she was reluctant to get out, just in case. Anyway, the police would probably appear from nowhere in a minute...
“Where did you get your bloody driving licence?” the soccer fan growled, ready to fight. “A bloody cereal packet?”
“What the hell’s your problem?” Dylan asked, stepping forward and invading the guy’s space. “You weren’t concentrating!”
“Yes I was, wanker. I’ve met arrogant bastards like you before, thinking you can drive your fancy sports cars like a lunatic the middle of London. You should all lose your driving licences – have them taken away from you!”
“Listen, asshole, you’re gonna lose your fucking teeth in a minute if you don’t give me your details. We’re obstructing the traffic!”
The man restrained himself from attacking Dylan. “You threatening me, mate?”
Sarah knew Dylan wouldn’t back down. She sighed. There was no way she could just sit here and watch two grown men descend into violence over their stupid cars. No longer caring about the threat of the Russians, she climbed out and strode over to join them across the street.
“Guys, come on. Let’s stay calm and deal with this like adults.”