Author: Christine Feehan
Category: Paranormal
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/13934_9
He didn’t want to say that aloud. Not to Fyodor and Timur, who had killed their father. He didn’t judge them. He knew Fyodor had saved both Timur and Gorya from certain death. He didn’t want to get into a moral discussion with Sevastyan either. He honestly didn’t know where he stood. He had left the country and had joined with Drake Donovan and the others in their plan to rid the world of the worst of the leopards choosing criminal activities in the States. It was the best he could do to make up for the life he’d led before he had gotten out of Russia. There was a price tag on his head. There always would be. There would be no forgiveness from the bratya, primarily the leopards running the territories.
“When one welcomes death, one has nothing to lose in a fight,” he explained to his cousin. “He always has the advantage. Lazar taught me that, and he’s right. I hate that he might be right about anything, but having nothing in this life gives me an advantage.”
“This woman . . .”
“I would never bring a woman into my personal hell. I know Lazar is coming. You know it as well. I would be divided. Need to protect her. Want to live for her.” She would be his Achilles’ heel. Maybe she already was. He would keep his distance to ensure she would never come to Lazar’s attention. “The things he would do to her to punish me—” He broke off, shaking his head. “No. I’ll never go there.” He said it firmly, meaning it.2SHE knew better. She absolutely knew better. She had discipline in all things, but somehow she couldn’t control herself. Ania Dover found herself standing in front of The Sweet Shoppe’s glass doors. Again. How many times had she come in the last few weeks hoping the Russian would be there? Clearly he hadn’t been quite as enamored of her as she had been of him.
The second good storm of the season was breaking, the rain driving down so that the air looked as if silvery sheets dropped from above in long waves. She could see the beauty in the storm since she was dry under the roof built over the sidewalk. She was also very warm in her long trench coat with its hood. She often joked to her father that she felt a little bit like Little Red Riding Hood, even if her coat was a deep blue, not red.
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Ania stepped inside the welcoming shop. She loved the smells of cinnamon and spice. The shop always felt as if it had arms wide open, calling one home. She noticed every customer who came in seemed to know Evangeline and Ashe, the two women working side by side. They were smooth, in spite of the fact that Evangeline appeared to be pregnant. It was difficult to tell under the apron she wore; if there was a baby bump, it was a small one.
Both women looked up when the little bell over the door rang. Evangeline smiled at her. “Ania, so good to see you again,” she greeted.
Evangeline had learned her name within five minutes of the first visit she’d ever made to the shop and remembered her when she returned after her meeting with Mitya. “I’m addicted to your pumpkin spice cakes,” Ania admitted, pulling off her gloves.
She took a quick look around, although she already knew he wasn’t there. She felt different when she was close to him. Safe. Calm. Just different. In a good way. She would have known if he was in the shop without looking. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself he was a criminal and she didn’t want any part of that life, she still had come to the shop, driven by a compulsion she didn’t understand. She’d done a little research on him the moment she’d gotten home.
Her family home was so very close to his. Just a few miles farther up the same not-very-well-traveled road. She’d been a little worried when he’d stopped, but she’d known, as did all those living on that road, that someone had bought the property bordering their family home. Her father had bid on it, in the hopes of combining the two properties, but he hadn’t succeeded in acquiring it. Apparently, Mitya Amurov was the new neighbor.
She’d read all the news reports of how he had been shot, saving his cousin and his cousin’s wife, Evangeline. She was a wonderful woman, and no matter how Ania tried to equate her with criminals, it just didn’t seem possible. Evangeline was too real. She felt genuine and warm. The way she greeted her customers by name, asked after their families with that same real interest, she just couldn’t be anything but innocent.