With that truth weighing heavy on her, she finished getting dressed and then packed both their carryon suitcases.
When she reached the door, she paused and looked back. The sexily rumpled bed sheets were the only proof they’d been here, and soon those would be disposed of down a laundry shaft, erasing all that she’d experienced during this life-altering trip. She hoped the result would be life-altering in a good way, in the best way, and somehow she and Isaac would end up together.
But she’d learned long ago hopes were best tempered by worst-case scenario expectations. Thank you, Helen.
The times Mindy felt at her worst and most insecure, Helen was always at her best and most biting. Mindy was tired of the advice and comparisons. Exhausted, actually. The first thing she planned to do when she returned home was to write an op-ed piece, even if she only found publication in the local paper, detailing her experience abroad. How sometimes an unfortunate mistake becomes a most fortunate outcome. Then she’d sent the clip to her mother and explained that while she might not live up to her mile-high expectations, her life in the Mile High city amounted to something. She had a career she was proud of and a future she looked forward to.
Strangely, a weight lifted from her psyche. She felt more empowered now than she had in years. She looked forward to creating the first draft of her op-ed piece on the god-awful long plane ride home.
Bearing their carryon luggage, she passed Isaac in the lobby. He suggested she go out to the car awaiting them, that he’d take the new wardrobe bag and pack up the last of the clothes, then he’d meet her at the car.
Agreeing, she stepped out to the curb and waved toward their driver with a smile. She wanted to express her gratitude to the man who’d carted them around St. Petersburg without complaint for four days.
Unfortunately, the man who stepped out from the tinted-windowed driver’s side wasn’t their driver. “Where’s James?” she asked.
The gruff man snatched the suitcases out of her hand and shoved them in the trunk as if they were garbage. “Unavailable. The Markovs sent me.”
How odd, since James had been at her and Isaac’s beck and call the whole time they’d been here. Not to mention their new driver gave off a nasty vibe she didn’t appreciate.
“Is this all you got today?” he demanded.
Put off by his presumptuous manner, she had to assume Isaac had relayed the ordeal about their missing bags. “The rest is coming.”
Nodding curtly, he returned to the driver’s seat, slamming the door. Someone was in a grouchy mood, she thought, climbing into the back seat.
While waiting for Isaac to bring out their newly acquired luggage plus her wardrobe bag, she tried to be pleasant. “I’m Mindy. What’s your name?”
“Sig,” he muttered.
“Nice to meet you, Sig.” She extended her hand toward the front seat, but he didn’t respond in kind.
Instead, his knuckles gripped the steering wheel—knuckles that bore a gold ring with a large oval jade stone.
Panic flashed through her. Oh, my God. It’s him. The thief who tried to rob me.
The man’s height, his weight, his meaty fists and his cigarette breath came at her hard. “You…”
Suddenly, his glance flicked up into the rearview mirror with cold recognition in his eyes. That’s when she knew for sure. It was him. The man who’d brutalized her and terrified her in the hotel room.
His eyes widened and he reached toward his waist.
Infuriated, Mindy grabbed the knife from her purse and held it against his throat. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
Chapter 9
From her position in the back seat, she had the upper hand. Her knife’s edge rested against his carotid artery. Whatever badass people he associated with, apparently he realized that with one slice, she could end his life.
Lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender, he glared at her murderously.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You held me captive and tried to steal the security device. The one that just arrived today in our missing luggage.”
A tap on the darkened window was Isaac’s attempt to have the driver open the trunk. A powerful vengeance she didn’t even know she contained rushed through her. Reaffirming her grip on the knife, she told him, “Roll down the window.”
He hesitated.
She seethed, “If you think for one second I don’t know how to use this weapon, or won’t, you’re wrong.”
The man held up his index finger and she followed its movement toward the right rear window adjuster.
“Isaac,” she yelled. “Get away from the car. Don’t let this driver come near our luggage.”
The second he saw her expression and the way she clutched her knife, Isaac raced to the driver’s side door and yanked it open. “Get out,” he said. “Before she slits your throat. Before I let her.”