Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Lev

It's about damn time all that formality is over.

We took the first step, and I'm so goddamn ready for the next.

We have shit to do.

Polina presses a bag into Isabella's hand and kisses her cheek, then mine. "You boys do this in the most unconventional ways, but I do love that I have another sister. Be good to her. She has excellent energy."

Oh, does she? Whatever the fuck that means. I roll my eyes. I've already hunted her down trying to escape twice, and even now, I'm on the lookout for any escape method she might use because she knows as well as I do that once she gets on the helicopter, there will be no escape.

I took Mikhail's reminder to heart. I know exactly how to keep Isabella shackled to me.

She's behaving for now, though.

I give Polina a quick hug. "Thank you."

"Here," I tell Isabella, pointing at the bag. "She's put clothes in there that you can change into." I snap my gaze to where the pilot sits. "She's getting changed. Close your fucking eyes." I'd kill him barehanded and fly this thing myself before I let him see an inch of her bare skin.

Isabella winks at me and slithers out of her wedding dress with a sigh of relief. "Mmm. Thought you'd never ask." In seconds, her dress is in a heap on the floor, and she's wearing slim black bike shorts and a tank top. "That's so much more comfortable. Going somewhere warm?"

"So I'm told."

I quickly dress, too, and put our dress clothes in my bag. Next, we slide on headsets to drown out the deafening sound of the helicopter blades, and we buckle in.I lean back in the seat and draw in a deep breath. I am so damn ready for a vacation.

A crackling noise sounds in my ears. "We'll communicate via the headset." It's the pilot. I've flown with him before, but he introduces himself to Isabella. "Mr. Romanov and I served in the Russian Army together. I owe Mikhail my life. In other words, you can depend on me." He grins. Mikhail doesn't do anything half-assed.

"We have a two-hour flight ahead of us. Please enjoy the ride and let me know if you need any assistance."

Yeah, I won't be needing any more assistance than making sure the guy gets us safely to wherever we're going. "Thank you," I tell him.

The chop of the blades is muffled but steady as we rise into the air, clouds quickly skating beneath us. I look at Isabella to see how she's doing, but she's frowning.

I tap the headset comms button, but she talks first.

"Lev," she says with a frown. "Mikhail didn't order two helicopters, did he? Something's not right."

I glance out the window and spot the rapidly approaching aircraft. It's definitely not ours.

We aren't the only ones who have noticed. Below, I can see Mikhail with his arm up, yelling at everyone to go for cover. Shit. We're under attack.

Instinctively, I tap the headset, connecting with our pilot.

"Incoming hostile chopper. Evasive maneuvers now," I command, my voice sharp.

The pilot snaps to and immediately complies, banking hard to the left. We lurch forward in our seats, but his move buys us time. I quickly scan the interior of our helicopter. My brother wouldn't send us alone and airborne unarmed.

Ahhh.

I find the emergency weapons stashed under the seat. I pull out a MP-9 submachine gun equipped with a suppressor and pass a Glock 19 pistol to Isabella. Her eyes gleam. She's fucking thrilled by this turn of events, grinning ear to ear like a kid in a chocolate shop. I swear to God, I think I just married a psychopath.

"Stay low, and be ready," I tell her, my tone brooking no argument as I reach for the door.

"No, I've got this." She nods, her eyes focused and determined. "This is Javier or one of his friends, I know it. He wants to go out in style? Bring it."

As the enemy helicopter closes in, they soar above us, angling slightly downwards so they can get parallel to us, about 30 meters to our portside. We see three men in the door, lining up their shots with wicked looking long rifles.

The pilot continues flying evasively, trying to make it difficult for them to accurately hit our chopper, or draw close but their pilot is persistent and matches our maneuvers with deft skill.

"We need to prevent them from getting a clean shot at our pilot or the tail rotor," I tell Isabella. "Cover me."

"No! Let me! They won't shoot at me."

She's already got her hand on door lock mechanism.

Fuck.

I can't believe how fast she moves; how quick and lithe she is.

I nod.

"Cover me!" she shouts again as she unlatches the side door. She doesn't have to ask me twice. She's my wife.

The wind roars, and the helicopter rocks with the turbulence, the wind dragging her small frame half out of the helicopter, but she steadies herself and pulls herself back in. I position myself next to her.

The first asshole I see, I pull the trigger. Fire bursts from my gun, the bullets hitting him in the chest. He releases his grip and plummets. The second one's eyes go wide and he hesitates, giving me all the time I need to take him out. The third one, leans out, resting his feet on a landing skid and grasping a handle inside the doorframe, but Isabella leans around me and shoots him in the hand, causing him to lose his grip and fall.

Their helicopter hovers dangerously close. A fourth gunman aims straight at her. I fire and hit him straight between the eyes. His face explodes into a pink mist of chopped meat. He falls. Another chopper pulls up on our starboard side.

"There's another helicopter," I scream to her so I can be heard over the roaring wind. "We need to take them out!"

"Fucking bring it !" she screams. "We're gonna do something risky. Trust me." She signals to the pilot to bring our helicopter close to the ground.

"Do what she tells you!" I yell into my headset. Even with the headsets, the noise is deafening.

As we approach the ground, Isabella screams, "Get ready to jump!"

"Are you fucking insane?"

"Trust me!" She looks straight into my eyes. "Husband."

Fuck.

"We're getting out," she says. "Keep us steady and don't fucking kill us."

As the helicopter grazes the ground, she grabs my hand. We leap together, landing hard on the grass of what appears to be a park of some kind. I pull her up and yank her behind me.

This caught them off guard. We use the element of surprise to our advantage. They stare, shocked, for a second as their chopper whizzes by, but that was probably her whole point.

We dart for the trees nearest us. The enemy chopper swings back around, lands and deposits four more sicarios on the ground directly in front of us before we can reach safety.

A thin, lithe woman lunges straight for Isabella, but she doesn't even bat an eye at the threat. Elbow to the neck crushing her larynx, knee to the belly, she knocks her attacker down and puts two bullets in her skull, her life ended in an instant. Another shoots at me and misses. I pull the trigger, thankful my brother doesn't cheap out with weapons.His chest explodes.

Two down.

I look up and see Isabella riding on the back of a third attacker, plunging a blade into his neck, his blood spraying everywhere. Definitely potential psychopath.

Three down.

The fourth takes aim at my wife; I take immense pleasure in pulling that trigger. Within seconds, we've eliminated every damn man and woman who has dared to attack us. They never stood a chance. We secure the enemy helicopter.

I quickly make my way to the cockpit. "Stand down!" I scream at the pilot, my gun jammed into his temple. He scowls and doesn't respond. Isabella comes up behind me, her blood-soaked face a mask of beautiful fury, like an avenging angel.

" ?Retírate, imbécil! " she screams. " Sabes quién soy y sabes de lo que soy capaz! "

I have no idea what she just said, but he absolutely does. With a whimper, he turns to face us. For a moment, I think he's given himself over, but at the last second, he lunges toward her. I pull the trigger.

She looks at me with wild eyes. "My hero .", she says with a wicked smile, her eyes flash with a fire and hunger I could drown myself in.

"Where did you get the knife from?" I ask.

"I took it from that bitch." She laughs, her triumphant smile even wider now.

"Hand it over, now." I command.

Isabella reluctantly places the blade in my outstretched hand.

Breathing heavily, I grab the headset. "We're secure, get back here and pick us up."

A moment passes. Another. My phone is out of control with calls and texts from my brothers. I can't deal with them right now. I need a minute to collect myself.

When we finally climb back into our chopper, the pilot stares, wide-eyed at the sight before him, Isabella's blood-soaked face a mask of pure unadulterated joy is not something he ever thought he'd see in this life. His gaze immediately turns and focuses ahead of us as we lift off into a blue sky dotted with clouds. "I'll make sure you get a bonus for this," I tell him. I turn back to Isabella, who's trying to catch her breath, but her eyes still burning bright. She fucking loves adrenaline.

"Nice work," I tell her.

"You, too, mi querido jefe ," she replies, a small, grudging smile playing on her lips. "If we were on a plane, I'd fuck you senseless right now. That was so goddamn hot ."

The pilot chokes.

"Ignore that," I snap. I tap him out of our conversation. He can talk to us if he needs to, but he won't hear us.

Good. We need a minute.

I turn back to her, wrap my hand around the back of her neck, and yank her to me. Without a word, I kiss her, our mouths clashing together. The combination of cortisol and epinephrine surging through our bodies heightens our senses to a fever pitch. She moans, her tongue licking mine, and just like that, I'm hard as a fucking rock. I kiss her until our breathing syncs. She tastes like whiskey, adrenaline and blood, and I want more.

"How much longer?" I ask the pilot.

"One hour, fifty minutes."

We lean back in our seats. "What did you tell the pilot?" I ask her as I hand her a roll of gauze and some saline solution from a first aid kit to clean herself up with. I want to know. Fuck she's fearless.

Isabella grins. She's so gorgeous it breaks my heart a little. "I said you know who I am, and you know what I'm capable of."

I smile at her. Somehow in the melee, the two of us shed a little of our animosity. I suppose it can't be helped as we were allies for a little while.

"Who are you? And what else are you capable of?"

Leaning over, she cups my chin in her small, warm hand. "I am Isabella Romanova. And I am capable of world domination."

I can't help it. I lean over and kiss her again.

We lean back, and finally, our breathing slows.

Our ascent is breathtaking as we soar above the clouds, and the houses below us quickly become so small they look like tiny little houses you might find on an aerial map, the clouds like thin wisps of vapor.

"Southeast," Isabella says with a nod. I can hardly hear her but can read her lips. She's right. We're heading out to sea. After some time, there's nothing but the blue depth of the ocean beneath us. Her brow furrows, and I watch the details as well. Even Mikhail doesn't know where we're going.

I tap the mic so the pilot can hear me. "Can you tell us where you're going?"

"I'm sorry, sir," he responds stoically. "I can't tell you until we land. It's too risky."

"Fair enough."

I watch the pilot closely. I know him, he's been vetted… Still, I've never been married before. I didn't have a wife to look out for. I look over to see Isabella's head tipped to the side. She's asleep.

I can't risk falling asleep, not until we've landed, and we're settled.

I stare at the sleeping form of my wife beside me, my chest swelling with the knowledge that she's taken vows with me. It feels surreal. I've never known anyone more beautiful or dangerous than Isabella Morales.

And she's mine.

Unlike our private planes, I have no Wi-Fi up here. I lean back in my seat and cross my ankles. It's the most peaceful I've felt in recent memory.

I'm tense and alert when Isabella stirs and opens her eyes. She blinks in surprise but doesn't talk as she quickly orients herself. I watch her stare down at her hand where I placed a thick gold band a few hours ago as if reminding herself it wasn't a dream.

I stare at the ring as if imprinting it in my memory. She gives me a curious look but doesn't make a move to take her hand away. I give her a squeeze and lay her hand on my knee, resting my hand over hers.

I don't care if she's a Morales. I don't care that she's a sworn enemy. I don't care that I forced her to marry me, and our marriage is loveless. She's my wife, and I promised her I would take care of what's mine.

"Minutes now," the pilot says.

As we begin our descent, an island comes into view—a lush, green paradise surrounded by crystal-clear water. It's breathtaking and remote, the perfect hideaway.

"Where are we?" she whispers. "I thought maybe Iceland or Nova Scotia, but it's impossible to tell from this height. And it looks warm, not cold. Thank God," she mutters.

"Mmm. It's impossible to tell even now. There are thousands of uninhabited, remote islands."

We land on what looks like a private helipad near a grand villa. It's perched on a cliff that overlooks the craggy rocks of the ocean below, but to the east lies a white sand beach. God, it looks like fucking heaven, and I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this, our brief reprieve before we're thrown back into the fire.

"Bermuda," she murmurs. "I bet we're on one of the islands of Bermuda. Only a few hours from New York, it's the only place I can think of that would be warm and sunny this time of year." I watch as her lips curve upward in a grin. " Find me now, Javier. " When she flexes her pretty, delicate hands with well-manicured nails, I imagine for a brief moment she has them sharpened into claws, ready to tear him apart with her bare hands. I blink and she looks delicate and gorgeous again.

No… delicate is the wrong word. Isabella never looks delicate. Fit. Lean. Stunningly beautiful and decidedly feminine. But delicate? Never.

We take our bags and exit the helicopter.

"Thanks," I tell our pilot.

He nods and, without a word, gets back inside to head back. I take our bags and walk toward the large villa in front of us as the helicopter rises, the blades chopping in the air, and leaves.

"You think we're the only ones here?"

I shake my head. "I fucking hope so."

"No one to cook for you? To make your bed? I can shoot a gun, Lev, but domestic duties…"

"My mother raised me to be a man, not a boy," I tell her with a smile. "Yeah, I can handle this shit."

Isabella shrugs a slender shoulder and smiles. "We don't need staff, do we? There's a certain appeal in being alone on an island."

But when we enter the villa, it does appear we're alone. This place is a masterpiece of modern architecture, somehow perfectly fitting with the natural beauty of the island. Floor-to- ceiling windows offer panoramic views of the ocean, and the interior is furnished with elegant but simple decor.

"My mother would cluck her tongue at all the white and beige, you know," she says with a smile. "Though I like the ocean inspiration with the accents." Outside furniture of white wicker features shell decor and pale blues and greens. The clean, simple lines give the place an elegant, pristine look.

All I care about is that it's well-furnished and isolated, perfect for keeping her close and safe.

As we step inside, I watch her take in our surroundings. Her eyes widen slightly, and I can tell she's impressed, even if she doesn't want to show it. A place like this must contrast with what she's familiar with at home.

I take out my phone, not surprised to find I have four bars and Wi-Fi. My brother would never send me to a place where he couldn't reach me the second he wanted to. I shoot him a text.

Mikhail: What the fuck happened???

We took down an enemy helicopter. I'll get her to tell me who they were later but obviously, we know it was the cartel behind it.

Shit. Glad you made it safely.

All good at home?

We're fine. Couple of dumbasses tried to stir shit here but Viktor handled it. Mom never even knew

Perfect. Any staff here?

No. I thought you two would be better off and enjoy it more if you were totally alone. I had specific instructions left when the staff vacated to make sure you have a relaxing stay. Nothing to worry about. You'll find everything you need at the front desk. You two fucking earned it.

Thank you.

Stay in touch

I turn to Isabella. "We're the only ones here. Mikhail says there are instructions for us up front."

She grins. "Alone, on a gorgeous island, hidden from our enemies and stranded with my hot, dominant husband who has a vow to consummate our marriage and knock me up?" She taps her chin. "Hmm. Let me think about this." She pretends to think for a minute before she pumps her fists and hoots. "Woot!"

I watch as she runs to the front desk, where normally, staff might check us in. She picks up a white sheet of paper. "Oooh, look here, Lev. This is what Mikhail was talking about." She reads in her beautiful voice.

Welcome to Kuznetsov Island Villa. We have made the following accommodations for you.

You will find the kitchen well stocked with high-quality ingredients as well as a handful of gourmet meals that can easily be prepared or reheated, a variety of snacks and beverages, fine wines, champagnes, and spirits.

There is also an espresso machine and a fully stocked coffee bar.

Linens, towels, and anything else you might need are in the hall closet, and your bedroom has been prepared.

We have left a few personal touches throughout the villa to enhance your stay. You'll find a selection of books and movies, as well as luxury spa accoutrements on site. Please use the hot tub and pool with caution but as often as you wish.

Should you find you wish to explore the island, we have detailed guides and equipment in the shed outside for snorkeling, kayaking, paddle-boarding, and hiking. Outdoors, you will also find a secluded beach picnic area, a hammock for two, and a gazebo beside the outdoor bar.

We have a state-of-the-art workout area as well as a recovery room. You'll see everything listed on the map.

Everything has been automated—lighting, climate control, and security systems, but should any need arise, please dial the number provided for immediate assistance or security we've established on a nearby island.

Congratulations, and enjoy your stay.

Isabella grins. "Did we die in that helicopter and land in heaven?"For a moment, I stare at her, hardly believing this woman is my wife and I've got her all to myself for the week.

"Find out what you can," Mikhail instructed. "Anything and everything she'll tell you."

I smile at her, hoping it doesn't look like I'm baring my teeth. I guess I don't smile very often.

"I'm not the kind of guy who goes to heaven when I die," I say, shaking my head. I can't help but smirk at her.

She takes a step toward me, her eyes smoldering. "Good," she says in a low drawl. "Sinners have more fun, and I'll enjoy the company."