Chapter Eight

F orcing himself not to think about the narrow space that felt like it was closing in on him, Saint pushed Mia, encouraging her to move with a firm shove to her delicious behind. But, he couldn’t even enjoy his palm on her ass because, at that moment, he was living his worst nightmare.

Claustrophobia was a bitch he struggled with all on his own. Not even his team knew he hated being stuck in any kind of tight, dark space. It was an unfortunate, and inconvenient, consequence stemming from his childhood. When kids had misbehaved at the orphanage, the assholes in charge had never hesitated to punish them. He could still remember every detail of being locked up in the small, cramped broom closet. The cracks in the plaster, the hole in the baseboard, the smell of rat feces coming from inside the walls. And, most of all, he remembered crying for the mother who’d dropped him off on those snow-covered steps that long ago February fourteenth.

Breathe, he reminded himself, sucking in cold, damp air. He wasn’t in that closet and, logically, he knew he never would be again. But it didn’t matter; he needed to get the hell out of that tunnel. If Mia didn’t pick it up, he was going to squeeze past her.

No, he wouldn’t dare. The fear of getting stuck, somehow trapped between her and the rough rock wall, was enough to make him want to vomit. Calm down! he yelled internally. Freaking out would only result in them being found.

Men with guns he could face, no problem. But a tight, cramped space, forget it. He ended up reverting back to a scared and defenseless child again.

When Mia suddenly stopped, he plowed into her. “Go!” he ordered, his head scraping the low ceiling.

“Which way? The tunnel splits.”

“I don’t care,” he growled, trying to suppress his increasing panic. Fear’s sharp teeth nipped at him, trying to drag him under. She must’ve heard his ragged breaths, the climbing anxiety in his words, because she hesitated.

“Are you okay?”

His heavy breathing filled the narrow subterranean passage and sweat dripped down his brow despite the coldness. “Get me out of this tunnel, Mia.” He hated the desperation in his voice, but he couldn’t control the way his chest tightened, squeezing the air out of his lungs, or the way his heart hammered like a drum.

“Hang onto me, Nik,” she said, her voice strong and unwavering. “I’ll get us out.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he placed a hand on her lower back, gripping her coat in a tight fist, and continued to crawl forward. Touching her helped ground him and the threatening nausea abated. What felt like an hour, but his rational mind told him was merely a minute later, Mia led them out of the narrow passage and into a large, wide-open cavern. He drew in a huge, shaky breath, hating himself for showing weakness. Hating that Mia saw him lose his shit, even if only briefly.

“Nik?”

“I’m okay,” he said, trying to sound more in control and failing miserably.

She stepped forward, pulled her right glove off, and slid her hand into his coat, covering his rapidly-beating heart. The feel of her small hand soothed him, and as she lightly massaged his pec, he felt his shoulders drop and his heart rate slow. “Touch helps,” she murmured. “Always remember to breathe through the fear.”

Their gazes locked and he saw understanding in her beautiful azure eyes. Like she knew exactly what he was experiencing. Had maybe even been through it before herself. His throat felt too dry to speak and squeezed with emotion. A sense of calmness slowly washed over him, replacing the panic, and his ragged breaths evened out.

“We need to go,” he finally said, though he was reluctant to lose her grounding touch. His shirt prevented her hand from making contact with his skin, but it didn’t matter. Somehow, she’d managed to halt a full-blown panic attack with such simple contact. The last time this had happened? He’d wound up in the fetal position, unable to move, until the warden came into the isolation pit and kicked him into awareness.

“Where?” she asked, looking around.

Now that he was out of the tight confines of the death tunnel, his head cleared. “Back outside before—”

Two armed men stepped into the cavern and Saint pushed Mia in the opposite direction. “Run,” he ordered, stepping in front of her as he lifted his Udav and started firing. Thankfully, she took off without argument. There were endless places for her to hide until he took care of these two assholes.

His eyes had adjusted to the gloom and it didn’t take him long to notice the men’s ink. They sported the telltale marks of Anton Petrov’s men—the same eight-pointed star Saint had on his neck. Fucking great. Nadia’s mole had already informed Petrov that Saint was back in Russia. The sudden need for a cigarette and an antacid filled him.

Ducking behind a mammoth ice formation, Saint fired at the encroaching men. A quick look over his shoulder revealed empty space—no sign of Mia. Good. He hoped she found a nice hidey-hole to wait out the slaughter, because he wasn’t backing down until both Petrov’s men were dead.

Ice splintered near his head where a bullet hit it, and Saint cursed as a shard sliced his temple. Bastards . Dropping down low, he hustled around the corner, moving behind a huge icicle that hung from the ceiling to the floor. Using it as a shield, he swung his arm out and fired. A shout of pain split the air and bright red blood splattered on the ground. One down, one to go.

Retracing his steps, Saint moved back behind the ice formation and listened. The moment he heard fast-approaching footsteps, he stepped out from behind his cover and fired at the same time Petrov’s soldier did. Luckily, Saint was a better shot and the man dropped with a pained groan.

Before he sought Mia out, he wanted to ensure both men were dead. A quick shot to their foreheads confirmed it. No sense taking chances and having to repeat his efforts. Saint dug around in the first man’s pockets, found the keys to his snowmobile, and pocketed them. Since theirs was out of commission from a bullet, courtesy of one of the dead men, he’d help himself to one of Petrov’s vehicles.

Spinning around, Saint moved away from Petrov’s thugs and headed toward where Mia had run. “Mia?” he called out, holstering his weapon. No response. “Mia!”

He began to doubt the direction he thought she’d gone, when a scream pierced the air and Saint’s blood turned to ice. He ran toward the sound, racing around ice formations and rocks, calling for her.

“Nik!”

Her panicked voice was suddenly much closer than he realized, and Saint skidded to a halt right before he would’ve plunged head-first into one of the many underground lakes. There were over seventy of them down there, and it was just his luck Mia had fallen into one.

His boots splashed into the waterline, but he didn’t dare go further because it would drop off into a deep sinkhole. “Mia!” he called, hearing her splashing. Stepping back onto shore, he dropped down onto his belly and reached for her. “Grab my hand!”

The moment her fingers touched his, he wrapped his hand around hers and tugged, pulling her out of the water, and right on top of him. They fell back onto dry land and relief filled him.

Spluttering and soaked, she coughed, and he tightened his arms around her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I c-can’t swim,” she stuttered, voice laced in fear.

He trailed a hand down her wet hair as his heart slowed down and his fear subsided. When he’d heard her scream, a million terrible things had gone through his mind. Had she encountered a wild animal? Another one of Petrov’s men? Or, had she stumbled and fallen over the edge of an icy cliff and plummeted to the ground below?

How had he grown so attached to her in such a short amount of time? So much so that he truly cared about her safety and well-being? He gave his head a slight shake, unwilling to confront those thoughts and what they meant right now.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, consumed by her soft vanilla scent.

“I was running and tumbled right into the water.”

Without thinking, Saint pressed his lips against her wet head and breathed in the lingering scent of her shampoo. Slight trembles racked through her body, and he tightened his hold, whispering words of reassurance. He couldn’t ignore how right she felt, how well they fit together. Damn, his thoughts had taken a dangerous turn. Shutting them down, he pulled back and helped her stand up.

“You’re bleeding,” she whispered, reaching up and wiping her wet glove along his temple.

“I’m fine. But you’re soaked, kotyonok . Get those gloves and that coat off.” Mia didn’t question him, she merely tossed her gloves, unzipped the heavy jacket dripping with water, and dropped it. He held up the keys he’d taken off one of the thugs and said, “We’re going to the safehouse, but it’s going to be a cold ride.”

“Let’s go,” she said bravely, lifting her chin.

His brave kitten. “Can I have my phone?”

She was still holding it in her fist. “I’m sorry, it got wet.”

“It’s waterproof,” he assured her. When she handed it over, he lifted it up, lighting their way, and hoped it wouldn’t take long to find the exit. Mia was cold and he wanted her safe and warm. They followed a rocky path, avoiding the tunnel because he had no intention of crawling through that narrow section of hell again. That was a big fuck no.

It took longer than he wanted, but they finally found an exit point. Before they walked outside, though, Saint handed his gloves to Mia and unzipped his coat. “I want you to sit in front of me on the snowmobile and we’ll zip you up in my coat, okay? Otherwise, you’re going to freeze to death.”

She nodded, pulling on his warm gloves. “I really don’t want to freeze to death.”

“Not on my watch, kotyonok ,” he assured her.

◆◆◆

Teeth already chattering, Mia hurried alongside Nik to the two snowmobiles parked outside the cave’s entrance. The wind whistled through the evergreens and she wished she didn’t have a head of wet hair and soaked clothing. Falling into the cold water had been a regrettable mistake, but unavoidable due to the lake’s still black surface which blended in so perfectly with the dark ground. Even if she hadn’t been running, she could’ve easily mistaken it for terra firma. Thank goodness Nik had scooped her out before she drowned.

“Get on,” Nik said.

Mia slid her leg over the snowmobile and he climbed on behind her.

“Lean back,” he murmured, lips near her ear. His hard, warm body felt so good and he reached around and zipped her in against himself. She couldn’t have been more bundled up, but she could feel her wet shirt soaking through Nik’s flannel.

“I’m so wet,” she said, voice apologetic. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he turned the snowmobile on and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Just hang tight. We’ve got about a twenty-minute ride and it’s probably negative thirty right now.” He pulled the hood tight. “Just keep your head down.”

The ride to the safehouse was the most miserable experience of Mia’s life. Being wrapped up in Nik’s arms felt wonderful, but as soon as they picked up speed, she went numb. Icicles formed in her nose and her jeans grew hard and crusty with snow and ice. Flurries spun, pelting her face, and it was so ungodly cold, she could barely breathe. Each breath felt like knives were cutting into her throat and lungs. Just when she thought she was going to turn into a popsicle, Nik pulled the snowmobile up to a cabin and shut it off.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured and slid off the vehicle, keeping her in his arms and carrying her up to the porch. It was a good thing, too, because she couldn’t feel her extremities. Walking would’ve been impossible, and her chilled brain conjured up a horrible image of her frozen legs shattering the moment her feet touched the ground.

But Nik didn’t let that happen.

“Y-you can p-put me down,” she said even though she liked being bundled up in his coat like a half-frozen burrito.

“No.”

This time his one-word answer made her frosted lips turn up. Somehow, he managed to open the door and haul her straight into the bathroom. Eyes shut, shaking uncontrollably, Mia couldn’t think clearly.

“We’re gonna get you warm,” he promised, turning on the bath water. After adjusting the temperature, he unzipped his coat, releasing her, then shrugged it off. “C’mon, Goldilocks. You need to get these wet clothes off and soak in the hot tub. Need to get the blood circulating again.”

But, Mia didn’t move…couldn’t move. “I c-can’t.”

“I’ll help you.”

She watched as he reached for the bottom of her shirt and lifted it. The material cracked and crinkled, and she did her best to help him. But every movement hurt, like a thousand pins stabbing her as the numbness turned to painful tingles.

Without a word, he knelt down and removed her boots and socks. Then he undid the button on her jeans and slid the zipper down. “Hold onto my shoulders,” he said, voice gruff.

Lifting her arms, Mia grabbed onto his strong shoulders for balance as he tugged her frozen jeans off. Standing there in front of him in just her bra and panties should’ve made her all sorts of self-conscious and nervous, but she couldn’t think straight. The cold had scrambled her brain.

“C’mon, kotyonok , into the tub.” He held her hands, helping her step over the edge, and slowly helped her sit down in the warm water.

She was so damn cold and it felt like he’d lowered her into a volcanic hot spring. She hissed, fingers digging into his skin, refusing to let go.

“I know…it’ll feel better in a minute,” he said, voice low and reassuring.

Unable to relax, clinging onto Nik for dear life, she met his dark eyes. They weren’t black like she’d originally thought. This close, she could see they were an incredible combination of gray and black. A stunning, swirling charcoal that she could lose herself in.

His attention dipped and she belatedly realized that despite being black, her wet bra didn’t conceal much. Her frozen nipples were completely visible and had captured his full and undivided attention. Her panties must be like a second skin, too, but she couldn’t find a reason to care. Instead, she found herself arching toward him, giving him an even better look.

Clearly, her brain was still half-frozen and not functioning properly.

Steam rose from the water and she pulled him closer, tilting her head back, needing that sarcastic mouth of his on hers. Wondering what he tasted like, Mia yanked and closed her eyes as Nik’s mouth caught hers in a kiss steamier than the water she was half-submerged in.