So many things didn’t add up for me, but there was only one person that could clear it up, and that was my father.
Later that night, I lay in bed, the cell phone in my hand once more. Artem had been on my mind all day, and I half expected him to just show up again and make me question everything.
He hadn’t, though, and I felt strangely disappointed.
Biting my lip, I lit up the screen on the phone, scrolling to that one lone contact staring me in the face. Did I dare text him?
I really shouldn’t. It would put false hope in both our lives that maybe this wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.
That he wasn’t as bad as I thought he was.
But heck, I was lonely. Everything that Gertie said was making me second-guess everything: my life, my emotions, everything. It made me wonder if I had given Artem a fair shake after he had saved me from Yuri. He could have easily let Yuri kill me, but he had rescued me, killed a man for me, and treated me just a little differently after that attack.
God, I was so confused!
Still, my thumb hovered over the message bar, and before I knew it, I was typing out a message.
What are you doing?
The dots seemed to blink forever under the text message, and I nearly gave up before the phone dinged and a message appeared.
Surprised as hell that you are texting me.
A grin split my lips. Had Artem already decided that since I had shown him the door, I wasn’t coming back? I kind of liked the idea of surprising him.
What else is a girl to do with a new cell phone?
He answered nearly immediately. Call her husband and tell him that she wants to come home.
I could almost hear him saying the words to me. Was I imagining the desperation in his voice bleeding through his text? Yeah, probably so. I can’t do that yet.
Silent moments ticked away before Artem finally started to type, and I held my breath as I waited to see what he might say. Then the least you could do is send me naked pictures of yourself.
A laugh escaped me, and I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt in a long time. This picture was crazy, me texting Artem like we were friends. I hadn’t seen this side of him before, and it made me want to crawl through the phone to make sure that he was on the other end. You first.
Again, dots danced under my challenge. Had I really just asked for a naked picture of a man, much less a man that was my husband? I wasn’t a sexter whatsoever. I didn’t do things like this.
A download icon appeared, and I nearly dropped the phone, swallowing as I watched the picture come into view. It was a picture of my husband sitting in a chair, his chest bare, and those piercing eyes staring into the phone.
His hand…oh God, his hand was touching the front of his boxers, gripping the outline of his cock against the fabric.
There was no caption, but I didn’t need one, my stomach quivering at sight. That was what I was missing.
I was crazy to be here and not there. For that stare, that harsh edge that Artem had that made my knees weak, I could almost forget he forced me into this marriage.
The photo easily showed the hardness about him. I knew that his chest and abdomen were dotted with scars, and if he turned around, I would be face-to-face with his tattoos that he didn’t want to talk about. Still, he was gorgeous.
Lord, the man could be on one of those model covers with this pose!
And he was all mine.
Well, I had to agree to come home first.
Your turn.
Biting my lip, I stared at the two words. I had challenged him, and he had stepped up, giving me exactly what I wanted.
But if he thought that I was going to give him exactly what he wanted, then he was about to be sorely mistaken. Yeah, it’s too cold in here.
Tease.
There was no demanding, and my heart warmed at the thought. He was really leaving this in my court.
You need me to come warm you up?
My body shivered from his words. Oh, how I would like to feel his hands on my body, the way he made me feel every time he stared at me with those eyes of his. Our encounters had been brief, but they were seared into both my body and my mind.
I missed him.
Heaven help me. Good night, Artem.
Good night, krasivyy.
I still had to ask him what that meant. I placed the phone on the bedside table and shut off the light, snuggling under the heavy quilt. There was a stupid smile on my face, and there was only one person who could have put it there.
Tonight, I would welcome those delicious dreams.
***
The next afternoon, Gertie and I sat out on the front porch, the weather surprisingly mild for the amount of snow that was still on the ground. We both had a cup of coffee in our hands while we waited for Noah to arrive home. He had gone to the motel for a little bit, stating he needed to check some things out, but I was willing to wager that he just wanted to get away from the chores that Gertie had given him earlier.
“There is that fool man,” Gertie commented as Noah’s truck lumbered down the drive. “He’s cutting it close to suppertime.”
But I wasn’t paying attention to the slow truck. There was a rumble of engines that filled the air, and soon the roar was so loud I wanted to cover my ears.
“What on earth?”
It was unlike anything I had ever seen. A cloud of bikers swarmed Noah’s truck, causing him to stop midway down the drive, and we watched in horror as they wrenched open the door and pulled Noah out roughly.
“Noah!” Gertie cried, her mug spilling on the front porch as she started down the stairs. “Stop!”
I hurried behind her, my heart racing as we watched them put Noah in one of those side cars quickly before making a circle around the truck and heading out in the opposite direction. Gertie cried out, falling into the snow as I reached her. “What is happening?” she cried. “They took him!”
My heart fell into my stomach. Surely not. He couldn’t have done it. He had been so different last night, and if he had taken Noah, then he knew I wouldn’t come back.
But another horrified thought crossed my mind, and I felt the blood drain from my face. Was this his way of forcing me back? Why?
I had to fix this. Noah did not deserve to be taken like that. He was no danger to anyone, and I was really the person that Artem wanted.
Not Noah.
Grasping Gertie’s arm, I forced her to her feet. “I will fix this,” I told the crying woman. “I promise.”
“We have to call the cops,” she sobbed, allowing me to lead her into the house.
I grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her quaking shoulders, leading her to the chair before the fire. “Please,” I pleaded with her, meeting her tear-filled eyes. “I can fix this. The cops can’t.”