I open my mouth, but the words don’t come.
My phone rings, and I jump involuntarily. My hands shake as I stare at the caller ID, indicating that it’s again Antonio.
This time, Dmitri sees who called. He grabs the phone from my hand and answers the call. “Can I help you?” Dmitri asks.
There’s silence for a moment, and then his top lip snarls. “She can’t come to the phone,” he growls, and his chest puffs out, his back straight and tall. He’s ready for a fight.
I watch in horror and hold out my hand, wanting him to hand me back my phone.
“I know who you are, and I don’t give a fuck. You don’t scare me. Sadie is under my protection.”
Another beat, and I swear I’m growing nauseous again with dread.
“I work for Mikhail Barinov,” Dmitri says.
Is that supposed to mean something to Antonio? I certainly don’t know who Mikhail Barinov is. I can’t hear Antonio’s response, and Dmitri is unreadable.
And what does he mean I’m under his protection?
He ends the call, and I’m unsure if he hung up on Antonio or if the call was done.
“What the hell just happened?” I ask. I fold my shaky arms across my chest. My eyes are wide, unsure I’m comfortable with what Dmitri just did for me. He’s trying to help, but I’m not sure he didn’t just make things worse.
“There’s no fucking way you’re going back to work for that asshole.”
I don’t want to go back to work for Antonio. Not after what I heard. He murdered someone in cold blood.
I wish I were wrong, but by the look on Dmitri’s face, he wants to shout from the top of the mountain,I told you so.
“He just shot a man,” I whisper, trying to catch my breath. My heart continues to pummel against my chest. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“And tell them what, exactly? You don’t know where he is, who got shot, and trust me, you don’t want to involve yourself with the Italians further.”
He shoves my phone into his pocket and rubs my back in soft, soothing circles. The sun has set, and it’s growing darker by the minute. The vehicle’s headlights are on, the engine running, allowing us to see the road. “We should get you something to eat.”
Seriously? I just threw up whatever I ate for breakfast. I’m no longer hungry. Food is the furthest thing on my mind. “I don’t think I can eat.”
“Soup. Crackers. Something to help clean the taste out of your mouth.”
He does make a good point. I could use it to rinse my mouth. “Yeah.”
Dmitri escorts me back to the vehicle and opens the door. He waits until my seatbelt is secure before shutting the car door and coming around.
I stare out the window, watching the trees breeze by on our way up the mountainside. Dmitri stops at a log cabin restaurant in the middle of nowhere. The sign outside readsLumberjack Shack.
Climbing out of the vehicle, my feet are shaky, and my legs wobble, but I know I’m safe. I’m far from New York, and Allie isn’t home, either. I don’t need to worry about her this week.
All I can think about is the sound of the gunshot. Flashes of the afternoon when Dmitri was shot flicker through my mind too.
I’m frozen, unable to move on my own. Dmitri steps around as he climbs out of the vehicle and accompanies me, his hand around my waist as we step up the wooden stairs.
He doesn’t wait for the server to seat us. He finds us an empty booth and helps get me situated before he grabs two menus and sits across from me.
“Thanks,” I whisper, the menu on the table in front of me, but I can’t focus on the words. It’s like a foreign language staring back at me.
A waitress comes to the table, bringing us water and relaying the specials. I excuse myself for the bathroom, wanting to rinse my mouth and clean up.
A few minutes later, I return to the table. Dmitri sips his scotch and gestures toward the alcoholic drink on the table for me. “I took a chance and ordered you an Amaretto Sour.”