“I do,” she returned and tugged on his arm, pulling him out of the current and to the opposite bank.
The Neva River was wide in certain places and the current was strong. She’d lucked into a place that was a good distance from the other side of the river. Once they were on the bank, she pulled herself out of the water and helped him stand.
His weight was such that had she not prepared he would have taken her to a knee. As it was she struggled to help him into the woods.
“I must go back,” she told him once he settled.
“What? No!”
“Yes, I need my bag. Can you stay alive long enough for me to do this?” she questioned.
His brows lowered and his mouth flattened into a straight line. It was sad, that line. His full lips should never be compressed that way. “I’ve managed to live thirty-two years without your help, woman.”
She nodded. “Good. Then this should be easy.”
Bone took off before he could voice any opinion. Her bag was too important to leave behind. She was bereft without it.
It took her an hour to make the round trip.
“Well, well, well, glad you could join us,” a husky male voice said in the darkness.
She sighed. Loudly. “Lucky me.”
“Damn straight,” Grant said as he stepped from the tree line. “Your boyfriend would be dead of hypothermia had I not managed to stick around and find your asses.”
Her gaze zeroed in on Dmitry who was sitting on a log, dry and now wearing jeans and a black sweatshirt. “You called him?”
The man shrugged. “Even I have backup plans, Bone.”
“Playing both sides will get you killed, Grant,” Bone said in a low voice. She let her fury be heard, almost choking on it as she pushed out her words.
“Playing your side tends to kill others though, sugar. And poor Dmitry, well, I might need him in the future,” Grant said as he tipped up his ever-present cowboy hat. He rubbed his chin as he glanced at Dmitry with a raised eyebrow. “I saved a life here tonight. I’m a goddamned hero.”
“You’re the reason Trident always knows where we’ll be,” she forced from clenched teeth.
Grant smiled. “No, that’s your sisters’ fault. I’m the one,” he pointed at himself, “who’s always pulling y’all’s assess out of scrapes. Don’t forget who I am darlin’. I’m everywhere.”
She shrugged her bag on. “I’ll be off then. You’ve got friends, Asinimov. Goody for you.”
Grant smiled. Dmitry stood.
“Not without me,” Dmitry said firmly.
She rolled her eyes.
“You do that when you’re angry or frustrated. Roll your eyes. It’s the small tells that give the most vivid picture. You anger easily but you don’t lose control. It speaks to your strength,” Dmitry relayed in a low, almost cajoling tone.
She didn’t say anything.
“But you are not leaving without me,” he finished. “You owe me answers and I’ll have them.”
He meant what he was saying and it floored her.
“Well now, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day that one was rendered mute,” Grant said with a laugh. Then he laughed harder. “Wait, just kidding. Bone never says anything. It’s Blade that’s always…well, no…she’s pretty fucking quiet too. It’s kinda eerie.”
Bone turned to Grant and did something she’d never done before—she lifted her middle finger in the air. She’d seen it done in movies and those few and far between. He just guffawed harder but the anger she expected didn’t materialize.
Instead she found herself smiling. She only smiled when she killed.
Their immediate silence had the smile disappearing.
“There’s another thing I never thought I’d see,” Grant murmured.
She didn’t understand. Grant had seen her kill before. He’d seen her smile.
“Her true smile is heartbreaking, da?” Dmitry intoned.
She had no frame of reference for the byplay so she walked away from them, into the cold night, searching for her hard center. And because they wouldn’t stop laughing behind her, she raised both hands in the air and pointed skyward with her middle fingers.
She kept walking, the sound of their laughter following, and another smile dogging her lips.
Chapter Five
It had been a hell of a twenty-four hour period. Grant had secured them passage on a FedEx cargo plane into Heathrow from St. Petersburg. From there they’d hopped onto Trident’s jet and entered U.S. airspace.
Dmitry tossed back a shot of bourbon and watched his quarry sleep. She sat straight up, one hand flattened on her thigh, the other holding tight to a brown leather messenger bag. Her head pressed into the seatback and he wondered how the hell anyone could find rest in that position. Even in sleep the woman was vigilant.