Darker Than Love

by Zaires, Anna

  I show him the media article on my phone. Whoever popped those men has connections in government, high enough to stage the murders as a drug-related gang war.

  Anton frowns as he reads. He gives me a speculative look when he’s done. “What’s this about?”

  “Mina.”

  “Fuck.” Lifting his face to the sky, he drags a hand over his beard. “I should’ve known. This is why we came to Budapest. This is what you’ve been up to these past weeks.”

  “Hear me out.”

  “Do I have a fucking choice?”

  “No.”

  My tone silences him. He sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Spew your poison. I’m listening.”

  I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but the situation has changed. I pull up the photo I haven’t been able to look at more than once—not that I need to, as it’s burned into my memory—and turn the screen for Anton to see.

  “Christ.” He pales. “Is that… Mina?”

  “This is what they did to her. Ten of them.”

  “That’s why you offed them.”

  “Not me. I was going to, after letting them live dickless for a couple of weeks while reflecting on their sins, but someone else did the job for me, someone powerful enough to make it look like a drug war.”

  “Someone must’ve needed to silence them.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I’ve tracked them all down, save for one.”

  “You want me to get information from him.”

  “I’ll owe you.”

  He grins. “I can live with you owing me. What info do you have?”

  “His name is Laszlo Kiss. He went into hiding like the others, but his housekeeper sold the information to one of our informants.”

  “Must’ve been an attractive bribe.”

  “Enough to set her up for life.”

  “You’re investing quite a bit in avenging Mina.”

  Nothing will be too much. Not all the money in the world. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You feel for her.”

  I frown. “Would I have done what I did otherwise?”

  “You mean take her?”

  I’m not going to answer that.

  He watches me quietly. “Ilya is right, you know. You can’t keep her against her will. That’s as bad as what those guys did to her.”

  My anger spikes. In a second, I’m in his face. “It’s nothing like that, do you hear me?”

  “What is it then, Yan? Is it even about revenge? Fuck, was it ever about revenge? I get that you wanted to make her pay for framing us as terrorists, but look at that.” He motions at the phone in my hand. “Look at what they did to her. Don’t you think she’s been through enough?”

  “This is the past,” I say harshly, shaking the phone at him. “What happened after has nothing to do with this incident.”

  “I’m just saying that maybe the girl’s had enough shit in her life.”

  “You don’t have a say in this.” I take a step closer to him. “She’s mine. The only say that matters is mine.”

  “Fine.” He lifts his hands. “But this is going to blow up in your face. Mark my words.”

  “Just find out what you can from her ex-teammate and let me worry about what will blow up in my face.”

  “Fine,” he says again. “Send the details to my phone. I’ll go check it out. I assume this guy is close by?”

  “In the northern countryside. After dropping us off at the clinic, the driver can take you. Best be well prepared. I’m sure Kiss expects a visit. He’ll be ready, weapons and all. Guards, too.”

  Anton flashes his teeth, which would’ve been perfect if not for one slightly crooked canine. “Sounds like my kind of challenge.”

  “Let me know what you find out the minute you do. We’ll meet back here at six. I don’t want to get home late. We need a good night’s rest for tomorrow.”

  He salutes. “Gotcha.” On the way to the car, he adds, “I can’t wait to cash in the favor you’ll owe me.”

  Flipping him off, I get into the backseat next to Mina while Anton retrieves the ammunition we always travel with from the plane. After loading guns and knives in the trunk, he takes the front passenger seat.

  “What’s going on?” Mina asks.

  I take her hand and kiss each of her dainty fingers. “Nothing.”

  She’s quiet until we reach the clinic. She signs in at the gate and stands uneasily until the car pulls away. Interlacing our fingers, I lead her down the path to the entrance. In front of the double doors, she hangs back.

  “Yan…”

  I can’t resist kissing her soft, sweet lips. “Mina?”

  “This isn’t a good idea.”

  I narrow my eyes. I want to make this good for her. She better not throw the gesture back in my face. And she better not be ashamed of me, because she’s stuck with me. For life.

  Pressing a hand firmly on her back, I usher her inside. My brusque manner has the desired effect. She surrenders, allowing me to push her toward the reception area, but the tenseness of her frame doesn’t ease.

  She announces herself at the front desk. The receptionist gives us a friendly welcome and tells us to go through to Hanna’s room.

  Mina’s small, slow steps tell me she’s not eager for her grandmother to meet me. Tough luck. I want to meet her grandmother.

  We go up a flight of stairs and exit on a landing. Mina stops in front of a door, her back so stiff it looks like her vertebrae may snap. After a soft knock, she pushes open the door and enters ahead of me.

  I look around the space. Nice. The room is comfortable and tastefully decorated with the focus on practicality. Bars are mounted along the length of the walls for assisted walking while call buttons are strategically placed in case of an emergency. Net curtains in front of a sliding door that gives access to a balcony blow in the breeze.

  Mina heads toward the open door. The minute she clears it, her demeanor changes. She becomes loose and relaxed, the very image of calmness and serenity. It’s a practiced mask, one she’s no doubt mastered for her grandmother’s benefit.

  A small woman with soft white hair and the same pixie-shaped face as Mina is sitting in a wheelchair in the sun. She’s wearing a fashionable red dress with ballerina shoes, her lips a matching shade of red. A book lies open on a score sheet stand that reaches her eyelevel. When she sees Mina, the color in her pale cheeks deepens to pink and her wrinkled eyes turn wide. They have the same color eyes—a magnificent icy blue.

  “Mina.” She raises shaky arms, the effort it takes not escaping me. “This is a surprise.” Her gaze turns on me, sharp and watchful. “And who is this handsome gentleman?”

  I let her hug her granddaughter before taking one of her weathered hands in both of mine. “Yan Ivanov. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Call me Hanna.” Her evaluation sharpens more. “Ivanov. That’s a Russian name.”

  I nod. “From Moscow.”

  She switches over to Russian, her accent flawless. “Where are my manners? Please, have a seat.”

  I draw up two chairs, seating Mina before I take mine.

  “Would you like some tea?” Hanna asks.

  “We’re not staying—” Mina starts, but I cut her short.

  “That’s very kind, thank you. I’m thirsty.” I pin Mina with a look. “As I’m sure Mina is. If you tell me where the kitchen is, I’ll get the tea.”

  Just as Mina’s shoulders sag in obvious relief at being rid of me, at least for a short while, Hanna says, “Oh, no. You’re our guest.” A look of mischief comes over her features. “Mina will get it. She knows her way around.”

  “But I—” Mina starts again.

  “Some biscuits, too,” Hanna says with a wink. “And warm milk for my tea.” Then to me, “I don’t like my tea cooling quickly.”

  Clever old minx. She’s orchestrating it for us to be alone, and I can only imagine why.

>   “I’ll ring for a nurse,” Mina offers.

  “No, no,” Hanna replies with a great show of shock at the suggestion. “They make the tea too weak. Besides, those ladies have better things to do than serve us tea.”

  Reluctantly, Mina gets to her feet. She looks between her grandmother and me, obviously fighting an internal battle. Remembering my manners, I get up, too. When Mina steps around me, I brush my fingers over hers. It’s a slight touch in passing only, as much as I can afford in front of her grandmother, but it’s meant to set her at ease. I’m not going to cut Hanna’s throat. I’ll never harm Hanna, because Mina is going nowhere. She’s staying right where she belongs—by my side.

  Once we’re alone, Hanna scrutinizes me with the kind of insightfulness that speaks of volumes of life experience. “Mr. Ivanov—”

  “Yan, please.”

  “Yan, can you please hand me that blanket over there on the chair?”

  I grab the blanket and spread it over her legs. “Better?”

  “Thank you. There’s always a bite in the air so high up. Beautiful view, though, isn’t it?”

  I look toward the horizon. The city is spread out beneath. “Indeed. The lights must be pretty at night.”

  “I’m a lucky lady. I’m lucky to have a grandchild who provides for me so well. Not that I wouldn’t be happy with less.”

  “Very lucky.”

  She cocks her head. “Tell me about yourself.”

  I shrug. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Have you lived in Russia for all of your life?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Just in Moscow?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about holidays?”

  “I didn’t travel until I joined the military.”

  Hanna’s brows lift. “Military, huh? I suppose Mina told you she’s ex-military, too.”

  “She told me she was in the Special Forces. Very impressive.”

  “That girl could read and write at the age of three. She picked up languages like a parrot. Tough too, just like her mother. I won’t lie, I was happy when she left the Special Forces. It’s not a job for a woman who wants to settle down.”

  I smile. I doubt Mina will ever want to settle down.

  “Tell me, Yan, what are your intentions with my Mina?”

  I have to smile at that, too. I like her directness. I like that she’s protective of Mina. I respect her for grilling me with questions. It’s what any loving parent or grandparent should do. It’s what I never had, and I’m glad Mina had this feisty woman to look out for her. That she’s looking out for her still. “I want to take care of Mina.”

  “For a short while or longer?”

  I don’t hesitate. “Forever.”

  Her lips ease into a curve. “I sense an honesty about you.”

  “I won’t lie.” Not about this.

  “Then it’s serious,” she concludes with obvious satisfaction.

  “Very.”

  “I see.” She leans forward, gripping the armrests of the wheelchair with trembling hands. “And what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a consultant.” Of sorts.

  “Where did you and Mina meet?”

  “In the bar where she worked.”

  “What were you doing in Budapest?”

  “It was a business trip.”

  Her gaze softens. “Do you believe in fate, Yan?”

  “Should I?”

  The expression on her face turns whimsical. “Don’t you think some things are meant to be, that sometimes we’re in the right place at the right time?”

  What do you know? Hanna is a romantic. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “I can see the appeal.” How much easier our situation would be if we could call it destiny. As it stands now, it’s nothing but kidnapping. A sharp prick of guilt nips at a far corner of my mind. It’s distant but pesteringly persistent, like a dull headache.

  “Are you going to get married?” Hanna asks.

  “I don’t think Mina believes in that.”

  Mina’s grandmother shrugs. “She’s not overly religious, but the reassurance can’t hurt, can it?”

  “The reassurance?”

  “That you’re willing to stand by her for life,” she says, like I should know. “That you love her.”

  What am I supposed to say to that?

  “A ring won’t hurt either.” She winks.

  Ah. I’m getting lectured for my lack of romanticism by an old lady in a wheelchair. “I’ll make sure she gets a ring.”

  “Good. She likes rubies.”

  I smile. “I’ll remember that.”

  “What about Mina’s job at the bar?”

  “She’ll come work for me.” It’s not a lie. I’ll have to involve Mina in my future missions. She’s not the type who can stay at home without going out of her mind. Judging by how she’s behaved since I’ve taken her, any hint of inactivity makes her depressed.

  “In your consulting business?”

  “Yes.”

  Hanna seems satisfied. “I never liked that she worked in that place where men are always drunk so late at night.”

  Come to think of it, neither did I.

  Somberness settles over her features. “Did she tell you about what happened with her parents?”

  “Yes, she did.”

  Her gaze grows more intent. “Did she tell you it may be difficult for her to have children?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me.” I just want her. I want her any way I can have her.

  Mina’s grandmother relaxes again. “Not all men can accept something like that. Not that it’s her fault. It happened on a mission. She never told me the details, and I won’t ask.”

  Best not. “You can rest assured I’ll do my best to make her happy.”

  She gives me a broad, tremulous smile. “That’s all I want for her, Yan.”

  “Me, too.”

  The clinking of cutlery sounds from the door. Mina stands in the frame, a tray in her hands. Getting to my feet quickly, I take the heavy burden and ignore Mina’s protest when I start pouring the tea.

  “What did you talk about?” Mina asks, looking between us with a frown pleating her pretty brow.

  “This and that,” Hanna says, smiling at me. “Your Yan seems like a very accomplished man. Quite a catch. Not bad-looking either. Well done, Mina. I think you got yourself a good one.”

  Mina turns redder than the roses in the vase on the table. “Hanna!” she scolds gently.

  “What?” Hanna turns to me. “You don’t mind if I’m blunt, do you? I would’ve made more of an effort to be tactful, but as we grow older and our time shorter, tact sometimes seems like nothing but a roundabout way of saying something.”

  “No offense taken,” I say. “I can get used to your directness, especially if it involves more compliments.”

  Hanna laughs softly.

  “Sugar?” I ask.

  “Two. And milk, please.”

  I add two lumps to the strong black tea and stir in some milk.

  “I’ll take that,” Mina says, reaching for the cup. She blows on the tea before bringing the cup to Hanna’s lips.

  After taking a sip with much difficulty, Hanna asks, “When are you moving in together?”

  “Hanna,” Mina exclaims again.

  “Actually,” I say, “we’re already living together.”

  Hanna beams. “Is that what you came to tell me? I’m so pleased. Where are you staying?”

  “For the moment, in Prague,” I reply. “After that, we’ll see. Our work may require frequent traveling.”

  “You said you do consulting.” Hanna takes a bite of the cookie Mina offers. She chews and swallows before continuing. “What kind of consulting?”

  “Human resources,” I say.

  Mina clears her throat, looking everywhere but at Hanna.

  “Since we have a few hours before we need to get back, how about a ga
me of cards?” I suggest.

  Hanna’s face lights up. “I love cards.”

  “Careful,” Mina says, “she’ll clean out your coins.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I have a whole wallet full of them.”

  “You do?” Mina regards me suspiciously.

  “A little bird might’ve told me to come prepared.” Or the nurses’ reports.

  Either way, I’m here to please.

  * * *

  For the rest of the morning, we play poker. I let Hanna win, but not too obviously. We have lunch together in the dining hall. Afterward, while Hanna naps, Mina sits in the chair next to her bed, Hanna’s hand clasped in hers. When she wakes, we take her for a stroll in the gardens, then come back to the room and spend the rest of the afternoon sharing more tea and cake.

  Throughout this, Hanna tells me stories of Mina’s childhood, little anecdotes I put away in my mind like guilty treasures, because I sure as hell don’t deserve this afternoon with its normal airs and the simple yet profound enjoyment of a family spending time together. I take it like I took what doesn’t belong to me, making it mine despite the nagging voice in the back of my head that’s questioning my integrity. I’ve never suffered from a conscience before, and it’s uncomfortable. The doubt started when Mina told me she’s in love with me. It grew a little when Anton confronted me, and after meeting Hanna, it’s an annoying but impossible-to-ignore notion.

  It still doesn’t mean I’ll let Mina go. It only means I get to feel bad about it.

  Fuck me. I’m developing a moral sense.

  While Mina and Hanna are chatting, I remove myself to a corner to give them some time alone and use the opportunity to check my phone for news from Anton. The message is disappointing. Laszlo Kiss had already escaped his weekend residence by the time Anton got there. However, Anton questioned the staff, offering money as an incentive, and he may have a new lead with regards to Kiss’s whereabouts.

  Our fugitive might have run to his cabin in the Swiss Alps.

  This is a nuisance. I need to catch this fucker as soon as possible, before he slips completely through my fingers, and we have the job tomorrow. Perhaps I could spare Anton. He could fly to Switzerland in the morning and be back to fly us to our hideout in Africa by the time our job is finished. He’s only supposed to play bodyguard and drive our getaway car. It won’t delay us by more than a few seconds if I have to take the wheel.