17. Alfie

17

ALFIE

M aybe I’m overreacting, but Nikolai’s threat affected me more viscerally than any danger I’ve faced personally. Risking my safety is one thing. But putting Mika in danger? I can’t stand the thought any more than I could with Nina. It causes me physical pain to think of what Nikolai might do to Mika if he got his hands on her, and he has the motivation to do so. I could see it in his eyes. He intends to hurt her—now that he’s found my weakness to exploit. He’ll hurt Mika to hurt me, which is why I know it’s time to leave.

What happened in the tack room between us was unplanned—and reckless. I shouldn’t have wasted precious time, but as soon as I had her alone, I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. Tension coils in my belly as I get the sinking suspicion that we might be paying for it now.

I might not know as much about horses as Mika, but I’m confident that the filly’s loading behavior isn’t a good sign, and I approach slowly from behind Mika’s left shoulder to check-in.

“What’s wrong?” I ask calmly, watching Mika calm Fate.

“She’s never hard to load like this,” the trainer says, worry creasing her golden brows. “I don’t know. I just have this feeling… ”

A dark sense of foreboding knots my stomach as I follow her eyes toward the trailer. Icy fear floods my veins. “Unload the trailer,” I command, raising my voice so the hands can hear me. “Get the horses off. Now!”

Mika jolts, her body tensing as her eyes flash in my direction, then widen with horror. She urgently hauls Fate back toward the filly’s stall as the hands rush up the ramp to follow my command. It’s a flurry of motion as the nervous beasts nearly trot back out onto the pavement one at a time, their hooves clattering against the hard ground. They look like they’re on the brink of being unmanageable now, prancing and wheeling as the men lead them back toward the track stalls.

Mika returns in time to bring the gray filly out last, and the horse’s sharp whinny splits the air as she steps onto solid ground. The anxious call raises the hair on the back of my neck, and relief quickly follows when I see the trailer is empty. Maybe my instincts were off, but I would rather be cautious than regret doing nothing. I just have a gnawing sense that the horses know something we don’t. The hands go for the trailer’s tack room next—likely to unload it—but I don’t want anyone near it now that the animals are safe.

“Leave it,” I warn, my unease growing. I have a sneaking suspicion that something’s coming. I just don’t know what—yet.

Mika stops beside me, her face drawn with tension, and the gray filly dances at her shoulder. “Do you think?—”

An ear-splitting explosion cuts Mika’s words short. Screaming in terror, the gray filly leaves the ground with all four feet. My heart stops momentarily as I picture the filly landing on top of Mika. I reach for her, but Mika pivots instinctually, stepping out of the filly’s way. She simultaneously guides the horse back toward the ground. When the filly’s hooves find the pavement, she is facing the opposite direction she was before, her head and tail raised like peace banners. Her eyes roll in their sockets, the whites showing in a thick rim of fear.

“Easy, Missy. Easy!” Mika calls, somehow managing to hold onto the filly’s lead rope through it all .

The filly snorts, her half-ton mass of muscle and bone shaking like a leaf. It sends a jolt of anxiety through me to see such a massive creature in a state of panic, but not Mika. She stays calm, her voice soothing as she holds the filly’s halter with one hand and runs a reassuring hand over her neck.

Our eyes turn simultaneously toward the source of the fiery burst, and sickening horror twists my gut as flames start to lick out of the truck’s shattered windows, climbing toward the roof of the cab. Something must have detonated right where Mika would have been sitting if I’d let them finish loading the trailer. This was no accident.

Someone planted a bomb with the intention of killing her.

“Get the extinguisher!” one of the hands calls as they scramble to put out the fire before it spreads to the trailer itself.

Beside me, Mika finally has her filly under control, and she gapes at the truck she drove here just this morning—the trailer we just brought in from the parking lot. She slowly turns her head to look at me as she wraps her mind around what just happened. What could have happened. “What…?” she breathes, her eyes round with shock. Then she turns deathly pale beneath her tan as her gaze tracks back toward the truck.

Worried she might pass out, I step close to her, looping my arm protectively around her waist. She shivers violently as she leans against me, but her hand never stops stroking Missy’s neck, soothing the horse almost subconsciously—or maybe she’s trying to soothe herself.

“Are you okay?” I murmur, pulling her close as my heart hammers. It feels impossibly good to hold her, to have concrete proof that Mika’s still alive.

“Yeah, I just—what happened? How did you know?—”

She sounds dazed, and I get it. My world isn’t something a person can just wrap their mind around at a glance. Unfortunately, I’ve dragged Mika into the heart of the danger without warning. I have no doubt who’s behind the explosion. Nikolai’s threat was anything but subtle. I just hadn’t anticipated he could move that fast. I thought it would take him a few hours to come up with a plan, and we could be gone by then.

It strikes me belatedly that he probably came today with the intention of hurting me. He didn’t have a horse in the race—he never gave any indication that he was interested in horses before—but he did know about my new investment. We discussed it during the dinner, where I broke off my engagement. He’s sent plenty of warnings and made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t intend to negotiate. Perhaps he even brought Ana as a last effort to change my mind before he put his plan into action. But then he found a better target after seeing what Mika meant to me.

Movement draws my attention toward the edge of the parking lot, and I spot a black Escalade idling there. The windows are down, and I can just make out the definition of Nikolai’s face from deep within the shadows. A cold sneer curls his lips when our eyes meet, and violent rage rips through my chest.

“You fucking bastard,” I growl.

I’ll kill him for trying to hurt Mika. I’m so furious right now, I could rip him limb from limb. My arm slips from around her waist as I make a beeline for the Russians. Vaguely, I register Mika calling my name, but my blood is boiling, and I charge toward Nikolai with a single-minded intent. My men fall in around me, ready for the confrontation, their hands beneath their suit jackets. If we weren’t in such a public place, I might give the order to open fire. Nikolai comes into sharper focus as I close the distance between us. I catch his smug expression as he watches me, then he turns to say something to the man beside him—Dominik, most likely. Nikolai laughs, and then the pakhan ’s face grows serious as he directs a command toward the driver.

I’m feet away when the Escalade starts to roll forward, and I break into a sprint. I draw my gun and debate the rationale behind my decision, but I don’t want him to get away. I want to watch the life drain from his eyes after what he just did—what he tried to take from me. The tires screech across the pavement, and the Kapranovs whip out of the parking lot before speeding away .

I slow to a stop as the dust billows around me. Gritting my teeth, I white-knuckle the grip of my gun as I watch them shrink into the distance.

“Should we go after them?” Vincent asks, stopping beside me.

“No. That’s what he wants. He wouldn’t have stayed so long or made his presence so obvious unless he was trying to bait me.” I glare after the retreating vehicle, my jaw clenching. I’ll have to put a quick end to their vengeful behavior if I want to protect Mika. They’ve marked her as their target, and the longer I let them get away with it, the more likely they’ll try again. Reluctantly, I tuck my gun beneath my suit jacket and turn back toward the barn.

Mika’s at the alley entrance, leading the gray filly back down to her stall. She seems to have regained her balance, though she keeps one hand braced against the young horse’s neck. Releasing a heavy breath, I comb my hair back out of my face. That was far too close for my liking. Striding across the parking lot, I follow Mika back into the barn as Vincent and my men fall in behind me.

As soon as I reach the aisle, I can tell Mika’s not quite right. Her steps are even, but she nearly passes the gray filly’s stall before seeming to notice where she is. The horse backs up willingly and follows her through the right door, but as soon as Mika’s out of my sight, my stomach knots. I quicken my pace, my instinct to protect her taking control.

I reach the stall door in time to watch Mika slip the filly’s halter over her ears and off her face. Her hands are trembling so violently, she almost drops the leather harness. One of the horses down the aisle calls shrilly, and Mika jolts, her head snapping up as her blue-green eyes search for fresh danger. She’s chalk white beneath her golden tan, and I can see the speed of her pulse in the vein that flutters along her throat. Her breathing quickens, growing shallow as she rests her palm over her heart.

“Mika?” I say softly, stepping inside the stall.

“I’m fine,” she says, but her eyes barely meet mine before drifting toward the door, and she looks like she’s lost inside her thoughts. She takes a step forward, and now that she’s not bracing against her horse’s neck, she wobbles precariously.

When I reach out to stabilize her, Mika flinches away. Her shoulder hits the metal frame of the stall door, and she grasps it for support. My gut wrenches. Is she scared of me?

She’s clearly in shock—a perfectly normal response from someone who hasn’t been immersed in violence all their life. That doesn’t make it any easier to keep my hands off her.

As Mika steps into the alley, I close the stall door behind us. She stoops, grasping shakily for a bucket that she quickly turns upside down. She collapses onto it as if her knees suddenly gave out. Her breaths turn labored, rushing in and out until she’s hyperventilating. Leaning forward, she braces her elbows against her knees and stares blankly at the floor.

She’s spiraling quickly as the last of the blood drains from her lips. Sagging, she suddenly goes limp like she’s about to pass out.

“Mika!” I call out in alarm, jumping forward.

Deep concern creases my brow as I kneel in the dirt beside her. I don’t want to startle her again by reaching out for her, but she looks so unstable, she could fall if I don’t catch her. She lurches, and I reach out instinctively to grasp her elbow. This time, she doesn’t flinch away.

“Get her some water,” I command Vincent, glancing over my left shoulder, then turn back to Mika. I keep a firm grip on her arm to stabilize her and peer into her eyes.

Her gaze is unfocused as she meets mine without seeing me. She’s trembling hard enough to make her teeth chatter, and her skin is still too white for her usual complexion, but Mika takes a deep breath, and her racing pulse starts to calm.

“I’m fine,” she insists again as I wrap my arm around her waist to keep her upright.

I can’t tell if she’s still on the brink of passing out. I don’t want to take any chances.

“I just—we need to get the horses home,” she insists, her eyes finally finding my face .

“I know,” I say, but first, I need to see for myself that Mika’s okay. Clearly, she’s not in any kind of state to make that call herself. At least she’s not hyperventilating anymore, and though she’s shivering uncontrollably, I think a hint of color is starting to come back to her cheeks.

Vincent returns with a bottle of water, offering it to her. Mika glances up, her lips spreading in a grateful smile, and she takes the water with trembling fingers. She attempts to twist the cap off, but still hasn’t regained her strength. Holding out my hand, I silently offer my assistance, and after a moment’s hesitation, Mika hands the bottle to me. I crack the bottle’s seal and hand it back to her, letting her finish opening it and bring it to her lips.

“We can hire a transporter to get the horses home,” she says after taking a swig. “Joel’s the best there is. It’s short notice, but he shouldn’t be busy since we’re leaving before the races are done.”

Relief washes through me as Mika says something logical. I think she’s coming out of the worst of her shock. “Good.” I glance back at Vincent once more. “Get the chopper back here as soon as you can. I’m taking Mika home.”

“No, I need to take care of the horses,” she insists, grabbing my arm.

“And you can do that once this Joel hauls them back to the stables. In the meantime, you’ll have to endure making a grand entrance with me,” I tease, emphasizing the words Mika used to describe my helicopter.

She snorts a shaky laugh, and I smile, glad to see her humor intact. She digs her phone out of her pocket as I hover protectively, and Mika makes her call, arranging transport for the horses. Then she hangs up and braces her hands on her knees to stand. I tighten my arm around her waist, rising with her. I’m not quite ready to let her go, and I don’t trust that she won’t keel over.

“I’m okay, Alfie. Really,” Mika insists, this time sounding more sure of herself. She squeezes my shoulder, and as fresh color blossoms in her face, I’m relieved. She’s looking more normal now—and she doesn’t seem to have any lingering desire to avoid me .

“I know you are,” I tell her sincerely. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to let you go.” I can still feel a slight tremor in her fingers as she grips my arm, which means I won’t be giving her any personal space until I’m good and comfortable with her stability.

A beautiful flush stains her cheeks, and Mika glances toward the barn hands, but they’re too busy taking care of the horses to notice us. An hour later, Joel, the transporter, is pulling up with his shiny silver trailer and tractor truck. The transport vehicle looks large enough to haul twice as many horses as we have, and the driver steps down onto the running board before he drops to the ground.

“Thanks for coming so last minute, Joel,” Mika says, offering him one of her rare genuine smiles as she shakes his hand.

“Anytime. You know that.” He tips his ball cap and flashes Mika a smile.

A spike of territorial jealousy lances through my chest, and my hand tightens instinctively around Mika’s arm. I’ve been holding it to make sure she doesn’t topple over, but now I’m ready to pull her away from the transporter and back into my arms. Joel’s eyes catch the subtle gesture, and his head cocks—a clear sign that he’s not a hundred percent sure where he knows me from. I’m more than happy to enlighten him.

“Yes, thank you, Joel,” I echo, stepping forward to offer him my hand as well while I wrap an arm more possessively around Mika’s waist. “Alfie Bonetti. I’m the proud new owner of the barn where Mika trains.”

Joel’s eyes widen as he seems to recognize my name. “A, um—” He clears his throat nervously. “A pleasure to meet you, sir,” he finishes with a polite nod. “And no need to thank me. This is my job.” An anxious laugh bubbles up from his chest, and he gives a nervous nod. “I’ll just get those horses loaded up,” he adds, then he makes a beeline for the back of his trailer.

I can feel Mika’s eyes on me as I watch the transporter calmly. “Am I the only person who didn’t already know you’re a dangerous person?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” I tease, glancing down at her .

“Everyone else seems reluctant to touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

Chuckling, I trap her chin between my fingers. “Too bad I might not let you get that far away from me again.”

A shudder ripples down Mika’s body, and once more, I’m left wondering if it might not be a response to the thought of being near me.