The Professional Read Online Free Page A

remembered one time when I’d been written up for public intoxication after a football game; I’d been mentally yelling at myself to sober up, willing myself to recover my wits so I could talk the cop out of the expensive citation. Stop chuckling, Nat, andanswer the nice officer! Not OSSIFER, dumbass! Do NOT touch his shiny, shiny badge, do not—DAMN IT, NAT!
    I felt like that now: under the influence.
    Sevastyan affected me in a way I couldn’t shake. I was experiencing a bewildering attraction to him, some inexplicable connection.
    And no matter how bad an idea it was, I kept wanting—metaphorically—to touch his badge.
    No, no, no—I needed to concentrate on getting information out of him. “Do you keep your promises, Sevastyan?”
    “To you and your father alone.”
    “You promised me answers.”
    His hands tightened on the wheel, those sexy rings of his digging into the leather. “Once we are on the plane.”
    “Why not now? I need to know more about my parents.”
    He didn’t deign to respond, just monitored the rearview mirror with that wary alertness.
    I remembered his earlier demeanor, checking the street through my bedroom blinds. “What’s up with this paranoia? We’re in Lincoln, Nebraska; the most dangerous thing that’s ever happened here was when this Russian asshole kidnapped an unwitting co-ed— in her robe .”
    The speedometer hit triple digits.
    “Are we . . . are we being followed?”
    Another glance into the rearview. “Not at present.”
    “Which indicates we might have been in the past—or perhaps could be in the future?” This was too bizarre. “Am I in some kind of danger?” Questions about my parents and past faded as dread about my immediate future surfaced.
    With reluctance, he said, “Kidnapping for ransom is always a fear.”
    I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t buy that. What you just described sounds like a chronic problem, or a theoretical one. Yet you broke into my house and demanded that we leave in five minutes, which sounds like an acute problem. So what happened between the time I saw you in the bar and the time you entered my home?”
    Sidelong glance. “I think you have your father’s cunning.”
    “Answer me. What happened?”
    “Kovalev called and gave me the order to get you on a plane. Which means it’s as good as done.”
    A sudden thought struck me. “How long have you been my bodyguard, Sevastyan?”
    “Not long,” he hedged.
    “How—long?”
    He hiked his broad shoulders. “A little over a month.”
    And I’d never known. “Have you been following me around? Watching me all this time?”
    A muscle ticked in his wide jaw. “I’ve been watching over you.”
    Then he would know me better than I could even imagine. So what would a man like him think of me?
    When he turned off the highway at an obscure exit, I cried, “Wait! Where are we going? There’s no airport out this way. Not even an executive one.”
    “I had to arrange an alternative departure point.”
    Alternative? I’d promised myself that if I didn’t like his answers, I’d flee into the arms of a security guard. I’d gotten no answers, and now had serious doubts about running into any guards.
    After a few miles, he turned onto a dirt road that bisected a cornfield. We drove and drove until a clearing appeared ahead,what looked like a crop-duster airstrip. At one end, a jet awaited, beacon lights flashing, engines radiating heat in the night air.
    To take me to Russia. This was all . . . real.
    Sevastyan parked near the jet, but didn’t open his door. “I understand you have questions,” he said in a milder tone. “I’ll answer any I can when we’re in the air. But you must believe me, Natalie, you won’t regret taking this step. You’ll enjoy your new life very much.”
    “New life?” I sputtered. “What are you talking about? I happen to enjoy my current life.”
    “Do you, pet? You sought him ,” Sevastyan said. “Relentlessly. Something was driving