Bug-eyed and caught by surprise, the thief made a move to exit the vehicle. Then his fist made a sudden arc toward Isaac, who met the man’s hand by grabbing his wrist, twisting and pinning it behind his back.
The man yelped the same way she had when he’d thrown her against the wall during his escape. The coward. “You work as a driver for the Markovs don’t you? Don’t you?”
“Yes,” the man admitted with a groan of pain, thanks to Isaac.
Anger shaking in her tone, she told him, “Serves you right for what you did me to me.” Then she sent a less angry and more relieved expression to Isaac. “Thanks for having my back.”
“You know it.” He nodded as if the alternative were unthinkable.
While holding the man incapacitated with one hand, Isaac called the Markovs. She silently questioned him, but he said, “Trust me, people like the Markovs have their own form of justice.”
Mindy caught the terrified expression on the burglar’s face and knew right then justice definitely would be served.
A few minutes later, Mr. Markov arrived, stepped out and shook hands with Isaac. “I beg your apology, sir. We will fix this troubling issue in our ranks.”
Isaac nodded, looking relieved to get rid of the traitor into the back seat of Mr. Markov’s car. They drove off and in pulled James to take their place.
He stepped onto the sidewalk and Mindy raced up to give him a big hug. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see you, James.”
The man blushed under his cap.
“You’ve taken great care of us while we’ve been here,” she told him. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Isaac withdrew a wad of Russian currency bills from his wallet and stuffed them into James’s hand. “I think he understands,” he murmured to her.
James whistled a pleasant tune all the way to the airport. Whatever amount Isaac had given him must’ve made the man’s day or week…or year.
Halfway to the airport, she finally released her grip on the knife, folding her hands on her purse. Isaac seemed to take that as an opening for dialogue since neither had spoken much. “Nice moves, by the way. In a questionable situation, always aim for the jugular, and you did.”
After her heart finally calmed its rhythm, taking solace in his words, she exhaled a deep breath. “I never would’ve done that, defended myself, if not for you.”
He brushed her hair back from her face. “Now you know you can.”
They didn’t talk much on the plane ride home. Their layover in London consisted of small talk about their sight-seeing excursion. But neither of them touched on the kiss he’d given her at the palace that led to their phenomenal lovemaking.
To her surprise, he seemed reserved. As if he were uncertain, perhaps questioning if her passion for him would cross the time zones back to their final descent into Denver. She wanted to tell him her passion would cross any chasm of time or space, including forever, if only she could find a way to say that without sounding desperate or lonely or foolish. She also wished she knew what would happen when they both sat in front of their CEO, Trey Soren, and Trey demanded an explanation why she’d didn’t meet Marcus, their wealthy new client, to explore their own special chemistry.
They returned to Denver on Monday, and she fully expected Isaac to ignore his own sleep deprivation to reconnect with his sales team. He proved her right, working a full day at the office. Whereas Cade took one look at her and gave her two days off—mandatory.
Cade was a highly perceptive man. The word sensitive might’ve been used by some, but Mindy had worked side by side with Cade long enough to know he wasn’t the clichéd sensitive artist type, although some came away with that impression upon meeting him. No, Cade had a gift for sizing up and reading people. He often gave whatever impression people expected of him, a bit of a chameleon in that regard. While he wasn’t sensitive in an artistic angsty way, he sensed just by looking at someone what that person needed. While he was stunningly handsome, Cade carried much more depth beneath the surface than people gave him credit for. And she gratefully accepted the two days off he’d demanded on her behalf.
Not once did Isaac call her. Not once did he email or drop by or give any indication he cared about what they’d shared in Russia.
Mindy finished her news piece about her adventure in Russia, sent it to her contact at the Denver Post, and they published it on Wednesday. She tore out the article and sent it to her mother with a note: I’m not all you had imagined I would be, but I’m where I’d always imagined I wanted to be. She also sent the clipping to her father. Daddy, thank you for the dollhouse you built me so many Christmases ago. I got to see the real thing, and it was just as magical.