“Who said anything about making you?”
“You aren’t?” Her tone drips with suspicion, her eyes briefly meeting mine.
“I’ll take you back to Scotland, if that’s what you want, but I won’t be able to protect you from what happens afterward. As Alexander’s sister, you’re fair game as far as Aslanov is concerned. Your family, too. As my wife, however…” I leave the implication hanging in the air.
“Why Van? Why would that man leave me alone as your wife?”
“Fear. Respect. Tradition. Any and all of those.”
“Why can’t you just tell him to leave me alone?”
“Because his claim precedes mine. If you’d come to me first, perhaps.” I shrug, leaving another suggestion in the air. “But you didn’t and that door is closed now. It’s how things are done.”
“You can’t tell him now? Tell him to leave me alone.”
“Yes, when my claim supersedes his.”
“When I become your wife,” she adds faintly. “But Alexander will protect me.” Her words stronger, she tips her chin, but she can’t hide the fear lurking in her eyes.
“I know he will, to the death. But you don’t want to be responsible for that.”
“Stop it.” Her hands ball into fists down by her sides.
“But he can only protect you some of the time, and when he’s protecting you, who’s protecting his wife? And what of the boys? He can’t be everywhere at once.”
“Stop it, Niko. Don’t do this.”
“Don’t speak the truth? Don’t remind you of the violence you were threatened with?” Violence repaid to Fedorov and owe to Aslanov. “Don’t you remember the nerve agent poisonings that happened in this country not so long ago?”
“Of course. It was all over the news—that man was a former Russian spy.”
“You watch the news. What happens to people who deal with so-called Russian businessmen but end up dying in mysterious circumstances?”
“Russian businessmen like you, you mean?”
“You’re learning,” I reply with a rictus grin. I fully believe I’ll meet justice someday. Until then, I’m looking at the one reason I live this life. My love, my heart’s desire and I will have her. “But have you seen one person brought to justice on the news? No, because those murderers are ghosts.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” she retorts imperiously.
“You’d believe if you were to find Alexander pushed to his death from rampart to railings.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Don’t tell the truth?” Blood thunders through my veins as I slide my hands though my hair to stop myself from shaking her. Doesn’t she understand? I might’ve fucking lost her!
“Don’t try to frighten me because it’s not working.”
“I wish I could say the same because you fucking terrify me.” I don’t know which is worse. The strength of my feeling and need or the risks she’d put herself to. I turn away from her lovely, obstinate face and, pressing my palms to the windowsill, drop my gaze to the street.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“If he’d hurt you…” I glance up, my anger and desperation are reflected back at me. My eyes shutter closed, blocking it all out. I would flay him alive. Make his men and his family watch. “Alexander could and would, protect you.” I turn again. “But ask yourself, Isla, at what cost?”
“We’ll manage somehow. Sandy can hire protection—I know he can.”
“But who will protect him, milaya? Who will shield him when the newspaper wolves turn up at his door? When the police come knocking, who will protect him?”
There is some truth in all that I’ve said. Anatoli Aslanov might’ve done any of those things… with anyone else but her. Because any of those things would’ve brought the world tumbling down on him. He will pay. For touching her. For fucking up my plans. There is truth in all that I’ve said this evening. Some truth but not all. But this is the one lie that does not sit well with me. But it is necessary because my lovely, obstinate Isla will risk herself, but she will not risk her brother.
“Tell me,” I prompt softly. “Who will protect him?”
“I don’t know,” she replies, her eyes sliding from mine.
And there. There I have her. She won’t do it for herself, but she’ll do it for her family. There is no loyalty better than that. There are better reasons, of course. I hope one day to be worthy of them. She loved me once. She can learn to love me again.
30
Isla
“This is going to be a disaster.” I keep my eyes on the window though the sky beyond the tiny square is a black nothingness.
“Disasters are often unavoidable.” At Niko’s soft answer, I slide him a disgusted look. One his eyes meet without an ounce of offense. “They can also bring out the best in people.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” My mutter is loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the plane’s engine as I fold my arms, determined not to offer him an ounce of encouragement. I want my boys. I want to hug them tight and never let them out of my sight. I hate—hate that I’m here right now. But what choice do I have? None that I can think of. Turning my wrist, I glance down at my watch. I have less than forty-eight hours to come up with an alternative plan.