Maya slipped from him and curled up in bed by his side. It was late afternoon, but he had no desire to get up and start the day over. With her here next to him, he had no incentive to leave the bed at all.
Without a word, Kostya closed some of the space between them and kissed her sweetly. She returned his affection, and soon enough, gentle kisses turned into exploratory groping. Maya’s underwear found its way to the floor. The tender affection they shared in the aftermath of sex bloomed into slower, more passionate lovemaking. By the time they’d finally exhausted each other, it was starting to get late, and Kostya knew that Maya had to be exhausted. It had been one hell of a day.
As the sun set and the room was plunged into darkness, they lay together and appreciated the quiet. Then, Maya spoke. “Kostya?”
“Yes?” he turned his head to look at her, only to find that she’d sat up and busied herself with something on the bedside table. When she was done, she turned back to the bed and handed him a scrap piece of paper. There was an address written on it.
“Yesterday, when you saw me getting distressed in my office, I was listening to a message my father had left. I haven’t had contact with him in years, and yet, he called me out of the blue to say that he knew I was with you, and for me to remember who I really am…”
Kostya looked from the paper to Maya, instantly alert. “Your father?”
“He’s here in London,” she said softly. “He called from a local number. There are only a few places he would go if he went into hiding, and in London, that’s the only one I can think of. You will find him there.”
Kostya looked at the paper, then back at her. The light had gone, and stolen with it the nuances of her expression, but he could still see the troubled look on her face.
“I don’t want anymore bloodshed between our families,” Maya said. She settled back amongst the sheets, her face partially obscured by the pillows. “I want you to keep your end of the bargain, but I know that if I let my father walk free, there will never be peace for us. I trust you, Kostya, and maybe it’s a stupid thing to do… but I feel like you will honor me. I feel like you’ll make sure this turns out right.”
Kostya looked down at the address. He didn’t know London well at all, but with minimal resources, he could figure out where he needed to go. He could leave tonight and have everything wrapped up in a few hours. He could avenge his father and be done with the Popovs once and for all.
But staying here with Maya felt more important.
Kostya reached over Maya and set the paper down on the bedside. He stroked the length of her bare arm once he’d settled back down beside her, hoping to soothe some of her concern. “You can trust me, zolotse. I am a man of my word, as are all Sokolovs.”
She closed her eyes and snuggled against him.
What would he do to protect her? Could he bring himself to go back on his word if it was necessary? Anatoly Popov was a dangerous man, and while Kostya was confident in his skills, he couldn’t be sure what he was up against, or what he’d need to do to take Anatoly down once and for all.
“Rest now,” he told her. “There will be other days to worry. For now, you need to take time to yourself. Don’t let your fear poison this. I’m here, and you’re here, and that should be all that matters.”
Maya hummed. Her breathing slowed. Kostya was confident she’d fallen asleep.
Part of him itched to get out of bed and follow the paper to the address—to make sure that the woman he loved would always be safe from the man who would never knowingly allow them to be together—but the other, more sensible part told him that he needed to stay in bed and rest. With her. Maya wasn’t the only one who’d had a hell of a day, and he could use the downtime.
Besides, he was here with Maya. It was their first night sharing a bed. He couldn’t defile such a precious moment.
Kostya closed his eyes and tucked his arm around her protectively. He refused to let her come to harm. In the morning, when he was rested, he would figure out what he was going to do. Until then, he was hers. All hers.
Nothing would push him to leave.
* * *
Morning came, and Kostya opened his eyes to find Maya tucked against his chest, blissfully asleep. He smiled, kissed the top of her head, and then carefully untangled himself from around her and got out of bed. He showered, dressed, and helped himself to the address on her bedside table.
Sleep had brought clarity. Clarity had shown him the way.
He would protect what was his. He would make sure that no ill ever befell his family—or Maya—again.
Kostya left Maya’s apartment and headed into the city. It was time he got back to work.
16
KOSTYA
In the liminal space between sleep and consciousness, Maya cuddled the blankets closer to her chest and stretched out her legs, pointing her toes toward the foot of the bed. All of her muscles were loose, and her skin tingled like she was laid out before a sunny window. Spending the afternoon and the night with Kostya had been exactly what she’d needed to shake herself free of her fears. Together, they were going to find a way through this mess. Kostya would make sure of it.
“Mm,” she murmured, reaching lazily across the bed to find Kostya and cuddle closer to him. But her hand found the sheets empty. Maya opened her eyes to confirm what her hand already knew—Kostya was gone. “Kostya?” she called out.
He had to have gone to the bathroom. Maya closed her eyes again, right on the brink of sleep. In a little while, she’d hear the toilet flush, or the shower turn on, or the sound of his bare feet as he came back to the bedroom. The bed would dip beneath his weight, and he’d draw her to his chest and stroke her hair.
Pchelka.
Zolotse.
Ya lyublyu tebya.
It felt like she was living in a fairytale, and her beastly prince was finally coming around and opening himself up to her. What a difference a few days could make. Maya had gone to work for New Beginnings so she could make a positive difference in the world, and now, she felt like she was doing the same with Kostya. Her Mad Dog wasn’t so mad anymore.
Or is he still every bit as feral as he was before? A treacherous voice whispered in her head. What about the address?
Maya opened her eyes and sat up suddenly. How could she have forgotten? Last night, she’d given Kostya the address she suspected her father was staying at, and now…
Now he was gone.
Maya checked the bedside table for the scrap of paper she’d written the address on. It was gone. So were Kostya’s clothes. Bile rose in her throat, and she scrambled out of bed and grabbed her bathrobe on her way out of her bedroom. Kostya’s shoes were gone. There was no note in the bathroom, or in the kitchen. The more she looked, the more she realized that there was no trace that Kostya had ever been there at all.
He’d gone after her father. Was that all he’d been waiting for, all this time? Had he played her for information? She’d given him the note because she’d wanted to show him that she believed he could be trusted. Over the brief time they’d known each other, he’d demonstrated that trustworthiness again and again. The incident with Michael, the revelation of her identity, and his excellence towards her during their argument had made her believe that he would respect her word.
But she’d been deceived.
Maya sank back against the doorway of the kitchen and ran a hand nervously through her hair. After everything Kostya had done for her, and after everything he’d said, could she trust him? Maya had no way of knowing. He’d left without a word while she’d been asleep, and taken the address with him. Logically, she had to believe that he was going to finish what he’d set out to do, but her gut told her that whatever was going on was more nuanced than that, and that she owed him the benefit of the doubt.
But, at the same time, how could she give him the benefit of the doubt when doing so meant bloodshed? If she did nothing, there was a chance that Kostya would kill her father, and as vile as that man was, Maya didn
’t believe he deserved death. If she allowed him to die, then how was she any better than him? She’d vowed long ago not to go down the same dark path, and that meant that she needed to show mercy, no matter how hard mercy was to give.
But even besides the fact that her father’s blood would be on her hands if he died, Maya knew she would feel equally as responsible if anything happened to Kostya. She’d given him the address in an act of trust, and if he followed it, only to die…
The small, simple world she’d maintained since coming to London was crumbling to pieces around her, releasing her into the world she’d left behind. All of the connections she’d once had were too distanced to depend upon, and all of them were loyal to her father. She wanted to make sure Kostya lived, not that he died, and if she told anyone loyal to the Popovs that he was on his way, they would take measures to make sure that he never made it to her father.
But Maya couldn’t do nothing.
She couldn’t sit by idly while Kostya put his life on the line, and when the life of her father hung in the balance. She’d devoted her life to helping others, not to sitting on her hands when there was work to be done.
No matter how uncomfortable it was, and no matter how much she didn’t want to, she knew that there were steps she could take to make sure that Kostya stayed safe. All she needed to do was get over her own hang-ups and accept that the past was the past, and that people changed. The past had changed her, after all.
There was no reason that it wouldn’t have changed her older sister.
17
MAYA
Kostya watched, and he waited. In matters like this, one wrong move could mean death. Kostya had flirted with it often enough to know that there was no glory in an early grave, and as aggressive as his upbringing had made him, he understood also that there was a time and a place for violence. For now, he bided his time and observed.
He’d never seen the London safe house before—he hadn’t even known it existed—but now that he was here, he knew that he hadn’t been led astray. He’d passed by the automatic gates at the bottom of the driveway on foot and casually observed the concealed surveillance system, thanks to the glare of the lenses beneath the sun. He’d been careful to keep his face angled against the lenses to obscure his identity, and walked far enough away that he believed anyone who was watching the footage wouldn’t be able to differentiate him from any other pedestrian. Beyond the gates, at the main building, the place had been locked up tight. Kostya already knew the score—only those approved by the Popov family went in, and that was fine, because it meant only those approved by the Popov family came out, and he’d have his chance to see exactly who he was dealing with.
Along the sidewalk outside the Popov compound were strips of green space where mature trees lined the way and provided shade to pedestrians. The street was a one-way, which Kostya thought was a clever tactical move—it was far easier to supervise traffic that only flowed in one direction.
And, luckily for him, it was far easier to intercept one-directional traffic, as well.
When he’d come to the corner of the street, he’d stopped and assessed his surroundings, then scaled the tree nearest the corner while avoiding detection from the quiet street. As far as he could tell, there were no cameras angled in the direction of his chosen perch. One of the tree’s sturdier limbs stretched out over the street right near the stop line, but for now, Kostya positioned himself against the trunk in a place where he could access the overhanging limb easily.
He was ready. He would not let an opportunity pass him by.
* * *
Kostya would catch him and end the blood feud between their families. He would exact vengeance for his father.
The question was, could he honor Maya while doing it?
The question weighed heavily in Kostya’s thoughts and interrupted his observations. His heart was closed off at the best of times, but Maya had managed to rip down his defenses within the span of a few short days. Kostya’s affection was sudden, he knew, but his heart told him that it was true. Maya was strength like he’d never been able to embody, and kindness like he’d never had before. She saw past his cold exterior and through the terrible things he had done, and understood him as a man instead of as a monster.
He would never let her go, and to think that he might have to betray her, even if it was for the good of their future, wounded him.
Breaking into his thoughts on Maya, there came a sudden commotion at the gate. The doors opened slowly, allowing a black town car to emerge. Its windows were heavily tinted, and from what Kostya could see, its back seat was divided from the front with frosted glass. The driver was an elderly man—likely someone who Anatoly deeply trusted.
Kostya couldn’t make out anything more than that, but it was enough. One old man wouldn’t stand in his way. Even without a weapon, Kostya was certain he could overthrow the driver, and once he did, he’d gain possession of the car and its precious cargo—Anatoly Popov himself.
I’ve got you, you bastard.
The car progressed slowly down the street. Kostya tracked it from against the trunk of the tree, keeping an eye out for acceleration.
As the car approached the stop sign, Kostya abandoned his post and climbed out onto the limb hanging over the street. As the car came to a gentle stop, Kostya executed his plan. He dropped down from the tree and landed on the roof of the vehicle, then hoisted himself up and smashed in the front passenger side window with a well-placed kick. Before the driver could speed away, Kostya slid inside.
The driver, an old man with a long gray beard, didn’t take his eyes from the windshield, but Kostya saw the fear on his face. He let it feed his inner beast. “Get out.”
“I’m not permitted to do so, sir.” To his credit, the old man’s voice didn’t waver. He had to have been a driver for the Popovs for quite some time—despite the fear on his face, he kept his gaze away from Kostya. The car didn’t move—traffic from the intersecting street prevented an escape.
“Get. Out,” Kostya growled. “Or would you rather I find another way to get you to leave?”
* * *
Kostya had promised Maya that he wouldn’t kill her father. He hadn’t made the same promise about anyone else. If eliminating Anatoly’s driver was what it took to gain control of the vehicle, he would do it without a second thought. “You have ten seconds. Nine. Eight…”
The driver let out a controlled breath and unbuckled his seatbelt. Kostya kept his eyes trained on him while keeping the glass partition in his peripheral vision. He would not allow himself to make a mistake now. He’d come too far.
“Get out of the car and stand on the sidewalk until we’re out of sight,” Kostya demanded. He didn’t notice a gun on the driver, and he figured the man was defenseless. It was too bad. Anatoly was making this too easy. “After that, what you do with your life is up to you, but remember my mercy, and know that next time you cross the Sokolovs, you will not be so blessed.”
The driver opened the door and climbed out of the car. Kostya slammed the door shut, sidled into the driver seat, and turned out onto the intersecting street without issue, all the while making sure the frosted glass partition remained in place.
He had Anatoly in his grasp. Now all he had to do was figure out how tightly to squeeze.
18
KOSTYA
Elena Popov was older than Maya by a year, and she’d never let Maya forget it. She was the favorite, the golden child, and the most well-loved—at least, according to her. They’d grown up as rivals, entered adulthood as rivals, and split ways on bad terms. To Elena, family was everything, and her heart and soul had belonged to the Popov line… but Maya had seen her sister in that candid photograph with Viktor, which led her to believe that she’d gone to live with the Sokolovs recently... and maybe that she’d turned her back on their father.
Maya wanted to believe it, but she also knew that her sister was a viper who wasn’t beyond subterfuge if it meant she could get what she wanted.
Still, what other choice did she have than to reach out to Elena? No one would understand the situation better than a Popov, and if Elena really had aligned herself with the enemy, then there was a chance she could get Maya in touch with Kostya before it was too late.
Maya woke her tablet and sent a FaceTime invitation to her sister.
Then, the invitation sat, and sat some more. Maya checked the time. It was a little after nine in the morning, which meant it was five in the morning in Boston. Elena probably wasn’t awake, but Maya needed answers. She would wait until Elena either hung up on her or answered. Kostya needed her.
At last, the screen flickered. Elena’s face appeared. Her hair was messy and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Maya couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her sister with a nude face. “Maya?”
“Don’t hang up,” Maya pleaded. “I need to ask you something.”
“Maya, it’s five in the morning. What the hell are you doing, calling me?” Elena yawned and rubbed her eyes. It looked like she was in bed. “It’s not even light outside yet. How am I supposed to get my beauty sleep?”
“Please, Elena… please, listen. I know that we’re not on good terms, but I need your help. Where are you right now? Are you with the Sokolovs?”
“Um, what’s going on?” Elena furrowed her brow. She held her phone a little farther away from her face, like doing so might help her make better sense of the situation. “You’re acting really weird.”
“I need to know. Are you with the Sokolovs, or are you at home?”
Elena pushed a hand through her messy hair, pulling it back from her forehead. “I guess it really has been a long time, hasn’t it? You have no clue what’s going on…” She sighed, then laughed and rolled over. The screen went blurry from the motion, then refocused. Elena had angled the camera lens so Maya could see across the bed. It was dark on the other half of the mattress, but Maya saw what she believed to be someone sleeping next to Elena. “Maya, meet my boyfriend, Roman. He’s Viktor’s driver and best friend.”
The Sokolov Brothers: The Complete Series Page 28