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Once again, I found myself on the back of a horse, my back to Dimitri's chest as he guided the animal back to the trail. I wasn't exactly a stranger to being close to men, but feeling the warmth and solid muscles rocking against me made me flustered.

Dimitri seemed unaffected, dark eyes straight ahead. They almost gleamed despite the shadow cast over them by the brim of his hat. His shoulder-length hair had come loose from the tie at the back of his neck when he saved me, and he had removed it before getting on the horse.

The man who helped him pull me back over the edge of the ravine was the same one I had elbowed. He still rubbed at his throat, yet when his eyes met mine, he smiled. "You are very spirited, Miss Mazur," he complimented, but it felt backhanded.

I pursed my lips. "Hathaway. I don't go by my father's name."

"Miss Hathaway," he amended, tipping his hat at me. "I'm Ivan Zeklos, but you are welcome to call me Ivan."

I didn't accept his offer and chose not to respond—I couldn't trust them yet. I needed to maintain a distance.

Dimitri didn't speak, a stoic man. I couldn't decide if he was in charge or not.

The two other men remained on the trail, eyes surveying the area with their weapons drawn. I recognised one of them as the one that found me in the shed; his round jaw and lack of harsh lines on his face led me to believe he was the youngest of the group. "I'm glad you caught up to her. Everything okay?" he asked.

"Let's keep moving," Dimitri ordered in a sharp tone; he didn't sound impressed. "Castile, lead the front."

The youngest nodded; his kind expression quickly shifted to one similar to Dimitri's and urged his horse forward. The only one left was a man with a severe expression, the only one I hadn't seen from my vantage point in the shed. Yet, when I saw his face, I recognised him as the one that had struck me.

"Spiridon, take the back," Dimitri instructed.

For a moment, I thought the man would argue the order; the atmosphere between their stares felt antagonistic. Finally, Spiridon shifted his glare. "Do a better job keeping her still than Zeklos did," he spat, "otherwise, I'll put her in her place." His eyes darted to me, and I felt a chill creep down my spine.

"Miss Hathaway isn't your concern," Dimitri warned. I couldn't see his expression, but I knew it had to be dangerous. He spoke with a surprising amount of protectiveness, and I didn't know how to interpret it.

The four men made a line, trotting along the trail; I had no idea where we were going, but it seemed they did. The sun was still low in the sky in the east and already I felt the unrelenting heat. I had been out in the sun for days; normally, I could enjoy its warmth, but instead, I was left drained from it.

"Would you like water?"

I tensed; his breath fanned the back of my neck. When I didn't respond, Dimitri lifted a canister before me.

"You can have what's left; you need to drink in this heat," he explained, pushing it into my hands.

I eyed it, feeling the weight of the water. It had been so long since I'd been able to quench my thirst. They only gave me a few sips a day when locked in the shed—just enough to keep me alive.

I opened the lid and peered inside. "Is it safe?"

"What?"

"Is the water clean?" I clarified.

Dimitri scoffed. "What does it matter? You take what you can get out here."

My fingers tightened around the canister; I knew he was right, but the water Carlton would give me tasted stale and left a bad taste in my mouth. Once, he gave me a cup full of alcohol; I was so desperate for a drink that I swallowed it instantly, believing it was water, only realising my mistake when it burned. He laughed as I'd coughed and begged for water.

"It's safe," he added after a moment of silence.

I continued to eye the water as if it was dangerous. If my father had sent Dimitri, surely he wouldn't lie to me. But I was still hesitant.

Dimitri suddenly took the water from me, and I watched in surprise as he brought it to his lips and swallowed, and then he returned it. "There," he told me as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

It was enough for me to trust it; I lifted it to my lips and greedily drank. The water was cool and gave instant relief, though my parched throat was not prepared for it. I coughed, trying not to splutter too much.

"Drink slowly," he instructed me, and I felt like a child.

I drank again and took small sips instead. I hadn't managed to finish the water. I thought I was thirsty enough to drink a lake, and yet I struggled after three mouthfuls; my stomach churned. I resealed the opening and held onto the canister as if it were a lifeline.

"I have enough until we reach the town. You don't need to limit yourself, Miss Hathaway."

I shook my head, "I'm fine. This is enough." I looked down at the canister and then at the duster that still covered me. Dimitri appeared as a threatening man, but he was taking care of me. I turned a little, enough to see his eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Belikov."

"Of course."

Clearly, a man of few words.

"You said we are going to town?" I attempted to gain more information. "How long will that take?"

Dimitri made a noise of affirmation. "We should reach it before sundown. We will restock what we can and then begin the ride back home."

"How long will that take?"

"Depending on the weather, we should reach San Francisco in a few weeks. No longer than a month."

I twisted to look him in the eye. "A month? Where are we?"

His brows drew together. "You don't know?"

"No," I admitted. "The men that brought me here kept me bound and locked in a carriage. I know we travelled for a long time, but they kept holding some cloth to my face that made things hazy. I don't remember much until I was sold."

Dimitri's hands tensed on the reins, shaking his head as he muttered something in another language. I recognised that it was Russian, but not the words he spoke. "We are in Nevada, about a day's ride from Beowawe."

I faced forward again, becoming lost in thought. If it was a couple of weeks' ride from my home to where they left me, and I had been there for almost a month… I didn't even know the date. I clearly underestimated how far I had been taken from the city.

"How did you find me?"

"I travel across the country often. When Zmey needs someone found, he calls me," he explained, a controlled tone in his voice. I was right that he was dangerous, but I didn't know if he would be dangerous to me.

I wasn't ignorant of my father's dealings. I knew that anyone part of that had to be willing to dirty their hands. Over the years, I had met many of the men who worked under Abe; they all had the same look in their eyes. Yet, when I looked into Dimitri's, he didn't share it. I wondered what exactly had him working for a mob boss.

I was exhausted, and somehow my body hurt more from being on horseback than from a day doing hard labour. However, that might be because of how weak I felt. My stomach clenched painfully; the only thing I had put in it was water, and the longer we rode, the sicker I felt.

The town drawing closer in the distance was a blessing. Dimitri ordered the others to remain close and to be alert; I wasn't sure what they were worried about exactly. They killed everyone back at the ranch—no one would have known it was them.

Seeing civilization again was a shock; it was just a small town, but more than I had seen in weeks. A large cross stood in the distance; with the setting sun, it made chills go down my spine. A few buildings sat clustered together, and the only extravagant part of the town was the railway that went through it.

Dimitri led his horse to one of the buildings— Saloon written above the door. With more grace than I thought he would have with such long legs, Dimitri dismounted. His horse was massive and had to be to match his height, but it made it so that I needed Dimitri's help to get down. His hands settled around my waist to guide me down to the ground, and I ignored the blush that heated my cheeks when he touched me. He lifted me like I weighed nothing.

Dimitri released me once my feet were on the ground, but when I stumbled backwards he took hold of me again. "Sorry," I mumbled embarrassed, "I'm tired from the journey."

"Ivan, go find us somewhere for the night. Miss Hathaway will need a bath and a meal," Dimitri ordered, not removing his hand from my back.

"We're staying the night?" Spiridon demanded, still mounted on his horse. He aimed a scowl in my direction. "She doesn't look like much of a lady. She doesn't need to be pampered."

I flinched, pulling the duster around me again. Thankfully, the length of it hid my poor state of dress. If others saw me in such a way, they would assume I was nothing but a prostitute. While I didn't need to be coddled, I longed to have a hot bath—or even a cold one. I just wanted to rid the layers of dirt and grim from my skin and finally be properly dressed again.

"Watch your words," Dimitri growled. "You can sleep on a pile of hay if you wish, but Miss Hathaway will not. This isn't up for discussion." The glares they shared were piercing; I wouldn't be surprised if they were moments from drawing their guns.

"Let's go inside, Miss," Mr. Castile offered, moving from the bar he had tied his horse's reins to. He offered me his arm and removed his hat; the smile he gave me was playful and boyish.

Dimitri sighed and nodded. "Good idea. Get some food if she's hungry."

I was hesitant to leave Dimitri's side and even more so to go into the saloon. I glanced down at myself and frowned. "Are you sure it's a good idea?" I asked Mr. Castile.

"Of course," he assured, eyes glancing down at the weapon on his hip. "No one will bother you with me there."

It didn't give me the reassurance he believed it would, but I followed him in. The building wasn't large, but the tables were mostly full; men sat about the room, and conversation flowed. Mr. Castile led me to a table in the corner and pulled a chair out for me.

"Did you want something to eat?" he asked.

I wrapped my hands around my stomach; it was still upset. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? We are under strict instruction to make sure you are taken care of."

"Do you also work for my father?" I changed the subject. "You're very young, Mr. Castile."

His eyes lit up as he laughed. "I work for Dimitri, and sometimes that means working for others. I've never met Zmey, and I doubt Dimitri would allow it. He's a dangerous man, your father." He froze with a look of guilt on his face. "I mean–"

"No, you're right. My father is dangerous. He's the reason why I'm here." I scowled. Abe was the reason I had to experience so much pain and despair even before I was kidnapped. "If you want my advice, stay far away from Zmey. Nothing good happens from being tangled up with him."

"I appreciate the warning, but as long as Dimitri is working for him, I'm following."

I tilted my head at him, "Why's that?"

He ran a hand through his hair, the sandy blond locks falling into his eyes without his hat on. "Dimitri saved my life, so I owe it to him."

I pursed my lips. Dimitri was indeed an intriguing man, even if he was a man for hire.

We sat in the saloon with many eyes on us, but as promised, none of them approached. Maybe the state I was in kept them away. My hair hadn't been washed or properly cared for, and I could feel the dirt that smudged my face. I was far from the rare beauty that had men in San Francisco falling over themselves to dine with.

It was amazing what men would ignore just to have a beautiful woman on their arm—and the endless greed most of them had. I had left many with more than their pride hurt when they tried to use me as a tool to get them Abe's connections.

My eyes were beginning to droop; I was desperate to sleep, even if it was just on some hay. "How much longer do you believe we must wait, Mr. Castile?"

"Call me Edison, or Eddie," he encouraged. It seemed they all preferred to drop formalities. "They shouldn't be much longer."

As if summoned, Dimitri strolled into the saloon and up to our table; his eyes moved about the room and never settled in just one spot for long. "We've found accommodations for the night. Shall we?"

The more I interacted with Dimitri, the more I wondered about him. He appeared educated and obviously was intelligent enough to track me down despite the distance. When we walked out of the saloon, he kept himself between me and the others in the room, and I felt protected. Either he was a decent man, or he truly feared my father enough to treat me like such precious cargo. Or maybe I was simply imagining it because I had spent so long with men who held no regard for me.

I had expected to walk to wherever our accommodation was, but instead, Dimitri lifted me up onto the back of his horse while he took the reins and led. His hands never stayed on me for long, and he was careful to only touch my waist or elbow.

Ivan and Spiridon were both missing, as were their horses, so it was only the three of us as we moved further down the main street. I had to grip the front of the saddle not to slip off, my fatigue growing stronger by the minute; by the time we stopped in front of the house, I was on the edge of fainting.

Dimitri helped me down, hands hovering as if he expected me to stumble again. "The lady of the house has prepared a bath and some food," he promised with a slight nod, taking my elbow as we walked through the entrance.

We were barely two steps in before a plump woman appeared at my side. "Oh my, dear, look at you. Come now, I have the bath ready. Best get in while it's hot." She didn't waste a moment and pulled me through the room and into another.

As she helped remove my clothes, I learned that her name was Rebecca, and she lived in the town with her husband and two sons. They all worked on the railway and often spent nights away. She commented on every part of my appearance and clothes with sympathy, mentioning that she had an old dress that would fit me.

Once she removed my chemise, all conversation stopped.

"Oh my," she gasped. I felt her fingers ghosting over my skin. "I…I'll need to get some ointment for those. Does it hurt?"

I glanced over my shoulder, unable to see how bad the whip marks were. "Not anymore," I replied softly, my hands covering my chest for modesty.

"Let's get you cleaned," she offered.

Rather than have me get into the tub, she first took a cloth and tried to remove most of the grim. With each scrub, it felt like a weight had been removed. Rebecca was careful and thorough; it felt like heaven when her fingers ran through my hair. Finally, I was able to sit in the tub and relax.

"What would you like to eat?" she asked as she lathered my hair with the soap.

"Something small. Maybe broth?" My hand drifted to my stomach which had become smaller. "I haven't eaten much as of late; I don't want to be sick."

I didn't have to see to know she was frowning. "Broth would be best," she agreed in a solemn tone. "I'll get it ready while you relax."

I watched as she walked around the tub and across the room. A modesty screen was placed between me and the door, yet I could see the entrance when I leaned back against the rim of the tub. As Rebecca exited the room, I caught a brief glimpse of Dimitri—our eyes met for just a moment.

As promised, Rebecca brought fresh clothes and ointment; she cleaned the healing scabs on my back, applied the cream and wrapped them. The new chemise felt like silk even though it was linen, and my hair was detangled and easy to braid. I felt like myself again.

She gave me a shawl to wear over my shoulders and opened the door. "Let's get you something to eat, and then you can sleep."

I felt dead on my feet as I followed and considered turning down the offer of food, but once the smell reached my nose, my mouth was watering. I had expected them all to be in the main room, but only Dimitri was there. He sat at the kitchen table with his duster draped over the back of his chair and his hat on the table beside him. He didn't look up at me until I sat at the head of the table.

The main light in the room came from the fireplace behind him, and then the small candle that sat in the middle of the table. The flickering flames made the angles of his face sharper but also showed the deep amber of his eyes.

He tilted his head in my direction, only to pause and turn to face me properly; he stared at me with wide eyes and lips parted.

"Here you go," Rebecca whispered and placed a small bowl of broth in front of me. I took the offered spoon and stared down at the food. "Your bed is made. I laid it by the fire so you'll be warm through the night." She pointed over Dimitri's shoulder to the mattress and quilts laid out. "If you need anything else, I'll just be in the next room."

I thanked Rebecca, grateful for the warm smile and attention she had given me. Once she left the room, I questioned Dimitri, "There's only one bed?" I had no idea where the others were but was concerned about what relationship she believed me to have with Dimitri.

His eyes didn't meet mine as he replied, "That's just for you."

"And where will you sleep?"

"Outside."

I turned the spoon in my hand as I thought. "Will that be comfortable?"

"It's fine."

My lips turned down in a frown as I studied his profile; he was focused on the candle. I had become used to how we spoke when riding, but now it was short responses again. Maybe I had angered him in some way.

I glanced around the house; it must have been difficult to arrange for me to stay there. "I'm sorry that you had to go through so much trouble for this," I tried apologising. That gained his attention.

"It's no trouble," Dimitri assured me, a soft look in his eyes and the hint of a smile. "After what you went through, you deserve to be able to rest somewhere with comfort." His eyes dropped to the bowl, which was still untouched. "You should eat."

I dropped my eyes as well. "I know. It's just…it's been a while."

"A while since what?"

"Since I've had food," I admitted. I felt anger burn in me for how I was treated. The shock of being saved had worn off, and I felt grateful I was no longer there—and that Carlton and his men were dead. "You killed them all, correct?"

I felt Dimitri's eyes on me. "Yes."

"Good," I breathed. I brought the spoon to the bowl, hesitating to eat it still.

"Eat slowly; your body needs to adjust again," Dimitri instructed, just as he had with the water. I'd have felt like a child again if it weren't for his tone, gentle and patient—lacked a condescending or judgemental tone.

I did as he said, taking a little at a time and eating slowly. Dimitri remained at the table the whole time, not leaving until I had laid on the bed prepared for me. He paused at the door, duster and hat in hand.

"If you need anything, Miss Hathaway, don't hesitate to ask." With that, he stepped outside and left me alone with my thoughts.

As I rested my head on the pillow that felt like a cloud, I couldn't rid myself of images of the tall Russian cowboy who had saved me.