The Agreement (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 1) Bethany-Kris (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📖

or on the paper would do to change what had already happened.

“I really hope you will do the right thing and leave her alone,” Masha added as she turned to head back inside the business. Tossing him one last look over her shoulder, she only offered a nod before she was gone.

Alone and feeling like it, Roman pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it up. The rain had stopped falling by now, but the air was still wet with every breath, and he raked a hand through his hair, rubbing some of the water out. He had the piece of paper in one hand, the same one where he dangled the smoke between two fingers, but he waited while he took the first long drag of smoke. Filling his lungs, he exhaled, willing the gray cloud to take the hell in his mind with it, and then he opened up the folded paper.

It took a second.

And then two.

The darkness didn’t help at first.

A sketch?

A man’s face was etched into the paper with violent pen strokes. The style was like how a kid would draw, scribbling hastily, too fast, all over the page, but the art was actually still quite sophisticated. There was more than enough detail to discern that the face staring back at him was his own.

He was sure of it.

At the corner of the page was his name, too, written in a hand that was once again—very childlike. Slightly messy, shaky letters, still clear.

He couldn’t understand it at all—not the sketch, why Masha gave it to him, or the entire night to begin with.

There were so many unanswered questions, and Roman wasn’t sure what to do about them. The one thing he knew for sure—there was no way in hell he was going to apologize for putting his hands on Karine in the alleyway.

Having the information he did about Leonid and the plan on Maxim, and Karine’s new place as Dima’s fiancée, well ...

Roman knew himself well enough to predict he wasn’t going to drop it, either.

Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he tossed it into the darkness, watching the coal flicker as he blew out the smoke, and murmured, “Sorry, Masha.”

FIFTEEN

“You’re distracted.”

The accusation from Marky hit Roman harder than he expected. Quickly, and without noise, he folded up the sketch—his likeness—and stuffed it back into his pocket before spinning around on the mechanic’s stool to face his friend.

“I’m not,” he replied.

They both knew he was lying. Marky didn’t know what Roman was trying to hide to call him out on the lie, but there was obviously a noticeable change in him, and his friend pointed it out more than once. One negative of having the man working with him in Chicago considering Marky knew Roman better than most.

“Well, you are,” Marky returned, but at the arch of Roman’s brow, the man shrugged. “I can’t help but say it when I see it.”

Roman wished he wouldn’t.

It had been a week since that night at the restaurant when Roman discovered what Karine’s future was set to hold. The same night he learned that touching her was like catching the worst kind of addiction. It was all he kept thinking about, running those minutes over and over again in his head until the images were permanently imprinted behind the backs of his eyelids. He saw her, wet, in his arms, legs parted for him, ready to ask for more.

Why couldn’t he get that out of his head?

Knowing what he did, he should.

The same night Masha had handed him the piece of paper with his sketch and name on it—clearly drawn by a child. Yet another thing that kept bringing in his attention when it was better spent literally anywhere else. Roman really was a sucker for punishment in more ways than one. His obsessive nature was going to get him into trouble.

That much was clear.

So, it had been a whole week of Roman being clueless about what the fuck was going on in the Yazov mansion. At the same time he tried to pretend like he didn’t know anything was going on at all because what did it matter. Even if something was up—who was he to say so?

Yeah.

He was a little off his game.

People noticed.

Unfortunately.

“At least, you seem settled here, man,” Marky said, breaking through his thoughts.

Roman had to admit that it was good to have a friendly face in the shop with him—the face of someone he could actually trust. Marky was going to be there for a week or a little more to help him with the next haul.

A fifteen-car gig that was coming up in the next twenty-four hours. Marky had it all planned out—to the very last detail—and they were supposed to be going over it. Except, Roman was off in lala land.

Like a useless fuck.

“I don’t know about being settled,” Roman answered, “but it’s a decent scene. Work-wise.”

“You been going out?” Marky asked.

“No. Obviously not. I’ve been careful with that.”

“Staying out of trouble.”

Roman nodded.

Marky’s grin came out to play in a flash. “Shit, I’m here now. We could make good use of a bag of blow and a few pairs of tits.”

Roman joined his friend’s laughter, and took a swig from his can of beer. Thing was—his heart wasn’t in it. Correction, his cock wasn’t interested.

There was no use denying the fact that it had everything to do with Karine. She occupied his every waking thought. If it wasn’t something less than innocent on his mind, then he was worrying about her for one reason or another. He was sure he was even seeing her in his sleep. And that damned dress with the slit down her leg so he couldn’t take his eyes off her pale, smooth thigh.

Fucking hell.

There he went again ... Roman grinded his molars in an effort to get his thoughts in another direction. She was what made up every red blooded man’s wet dreams, though. No point in denying it.

“There something