by Miranda Kavi
Ivan was leaning against the door, listening to the two women. “Shall we go back to the party, or do you want to stay in this smelly little room?”
“Sure.” Sophia wanted to get away from Tatiana’s concern. She wanted to get drunk and drown in the noise of the club. She wanted to shut off her brain for tonight.
Tomorrow she’d wire the money. Tomorrow the next phase of her search would start.
First, she’d go to Palace Square at ten.
Chapter 6
DMITRI
Munich, Germany
The burner phone rang in Dmitri’s hand. He pushed back the white hot rage of anger. He’d been expecting this call. But it had taken too long. He’d been seconds away from tossing the phone into the garbage at the noisy, crowded airport.
“Speak,” he answered. He kept his voice smooth. There was a time to show anger, and this was not it.
“We have him,” said the low, accented voice.
Dmitri exhaled slowly. “You took your time.”
The voice chuckled back. “He’s good. You’ve trained him well.”
“Hold him, but do not harm him. I will be there soon.” He hung up the phone, wrapped it in a newspaper, and then threw it in the nearest trash.
He walked smoothly, carrying his suitcase, following the signs to the ground transportation outside. Gram and Naomi walked in front of him, talking.
Gram was not focused. He was not watching for tails. Not scanning the surrounding scene. Not checking to make sure the car was waiting outside for them.
Instead, he was leaning close to Naomi. Saying things in a low voice that made her smile. Smiling when she noticed. Brushing his hand against her shoulder to take her bag.
Any half-witted fool could see what was happening. He’d have to deal with it. Later.
An intense longing filled him, so much so he almost broke stride. Some part of him wanted to crouch on the floor, put his face in his hands, and mourn for Sophia. He hadn’t done that since he left her on the floor, bound and bloodied for someone else to take care of. At least she’d been alive. He had saved her life. It’d cost him millions in American deals and made him some new enemies, but he’d done what he needed to for her. That would have to be enough for him.
Fuck.
Right now, he needed to think about the man waiting for him. The man he’d been chasing. The man his associate had probably tied up by now. The man that was hours away from his death and knew it.
Rage filled him.
He did not take kindly to being crossed or questioned. The man would pay. Dmitri would draw his knife against his face and watch him bleed. He’d get the look in his eyes that people only get when they know they are about to die. The eyes haunted him sometimes. Filled with fear, sadness, and a little hope, sometimes even joy as some of them drifted off into a memory from which to live out their final seconds.
Then he’d put out the light in their eyes, like he was going to do to the man.
He pulled his focus back to the present, his eyes constantly scanning the people around him. The man staring at his phone. The woman watching him with curious, wide green eyes from her seat in the terminal. The family of Swiss tourists with four loud children.
He watched them all. Watched for a gaze that lingered longer than three seconds. Watched for any face he saw more than once. Watched for body language that spoke of secrets.
They made it out to a large black sedan. Gram raced ahead of him to pop open the trunk and loaded Naomi’s luggage for her.
Dmitri rolled his eyes and slid into the backseat. It forced Gram and Naomi to separate.
She bit her lip and then got into the front next to the driver. Gram sat beside him. Dmitri stared at him while he got in. Gram averted his eyes.
He knew he’d been distracted.
“What are we doing here, anyway?” Gram said. “And why did you not tell me sooner?”
“You did not ask. You’ve been busy.”
Gram fell silent.
Dmitri smiled. “You will see soon enough. We are not staying here. Tell Naomi not to unpack her bags.”
“You do not often keep things from me,” Gram said. His distance was back; cold, calculating, brilliant.
“You do not often need me to tell you. You are too distracted. We will talk later.” Dmitri returned his eyes forward, a cue to anyone that worked with him that he was done talking.
The car rolled through the busy city then down a long, empty highway. The buildings and people gave way to rolling green hills and quaint houses. After a couple of turns down dirty country roads, the car rolled to a stop in front of a pleasant, small, half-timber house with neatly landscaped bushes circling the front door.
“This is nice,” Naomi said. She looked pleased.
“This is not a visit for pleasantries. We will not be here long. You might want to wait in the car,” Dmitri said.
He pushed open the door, annoyed by her presence. More so now that she was distracting Gram.
He left the car, taking quick strides to the front door. He heard Gram behind him, his trained footsteps barely perceptible to his ears.
He walked in the house, turning to speak to Gram. But Gram wasn’t there; he’d paused on the front stoop to stare at Naomi back in the car. “Do you need a moment?” Dmitri said coldly.
Gram blinked rapidly, turning back to Dmitri. He had completely checked out. It was written all over his face.
Dmitri turned away, letting his words sink in.
He pushed open the bedroom door. The man was tied to a chair in the darkened room, flanked by Dmitri’s men, his bald head gleaming in the faint light.
Dmitri walked up to him, stopping a foot in front of him. The man had a sneer written on his face.
“You know why I am here?” Dmitri asked.
“Because I pushed your little American cunt to the ground in Houston. Oh, wait. She’s not your bitch anymore, is she?” He cackled, arrogant even in his death.
Dmitri did not react on the outside, but inside the fire was burning. He’d been handcuffed in the federal agent’s car when he saw him lunge for Sophia. She’d stumbled away from him, fear written on her face. And he hadn’t been able to do anything about it, even though it was his man. Some fuck-nut United States government agent saved the day.
“You are a problem. You have attempted to turn my own people against me.”
He laughed again. “You have done that yourself.”
“Enough,” Dmitri roared. “Kill him.”
“It won’t help!” he shouted. “It’s too late. There are many, many others—your men and outside interests—who are going to fuck you over.”
Gram came forward, drawing out his gun as Dmitri left the room. He was almost to the front door when the gunshot rang out. He got in the car and waited. Normally, he would’ve taken care of it himself, but the mention of Sophia made the air go out of the room.
Gram came out a short time later, still wiping blood splatter from his face with a handkerchief.
He got in the backseat of the car next to Dmitri, eyes down.
Naomi turned to the backseat, staring at Gram. “What happened? I heard a gunshot.”
Gram didn’t answer. His eyes were on his folded hands resting on his lap. Dmitri saw a flash of hurt in Naomi’s eyes before she turned away and leaned her head against the window.
“Hotel,” he barked at the driver. “I do not want to be late for my meeting.”
SOPHIA
Sophia heard the moans and groans from the next room. She’d crashed at Tatiana’s place for the past few days.
Big mistake. Tatiana and Ivan hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, before the club meeting a few days ago, and they had a lot of catching up to do. They’d been screwing all night and were already up with sun and at it again.
Last night, she’d stumbled into the bathroom at three when nature called. She’d found them in the middle of having sex. Tatiana was on the counter, head tilted back, moaning softly. Ivan was ramm
ing into her, clenching his toned rear with every impassioned thrust.
She’d backed out quickly and closed the door.
She remembered when Dmitri had made love to her like that.
The thumps were louder as the headboard banged into the wall. She launched herself out of the small, single bed and threw on a thin robe. Tatiana’s kitchen was meticulously clean as always. The rest of the house was a mound of clothes and shoes and magazines, but Tatiana was fastidious about her kitchen. It was perfect, never a dirty dish left in the sink for later.
She started the coffee maker and waited for it to brew.
She needed to go back to her hotel today. Give them some space. Give her some space.
Ivan had grown on her, and Tatiana even more so. They were weird, but the same. Both were filled with restless energy. Both on the edge of acting insane.
Ivan owned several clubs, so they had fun. Their whole life was a party almost every night. She wondered if they ever got tired and just longed for a night at home with a bottle of good wine and some comfortable pajamas.
She stepped out onto the small balcony. There was no room for chairs or a table, just her with her coffee.
She checked the burner phone she kept on her at all times. One of Tariq’s men had delivered it to the hotel the day she wired the payment.
It’d been several days. She charged it. Checked it. Turned if off and on to make sure it worked, but it remained silent.
She hoped Tariq hadn’t bilked her out of 750,000 dollars.
The balcony door slid open. Tatiana came out, fresh from the shower. Her long hair was wet and clung to her sides. She didn’t have on a stitch of make-up. She wore simple cotton shorts and a white tank top.
“Morning,” Tatiana said. She took a sip of the coffee in her hand.
“Morning,” Sophia said.
“You look tired,” Tatiana said in her blunt way.
“Thank you for the compliment. You guys are loud.” Sophia cracked a smile.
Tatiana laughed, using one hand to sweep her wet hair off her face. “What can I say? The man knows how to fuck.”
“You know, you’re stunning without make-up,” Sophia added. “It’s amazing how different you look. In a good way.”
Tatiana frowned. “I know, but I do not want people to see real me.”
“Why?”
She shrugged and turned away, burying her face in her coffee mug. It was probably a big deal for her to be honest and natural around Sophia, so she decided to drop it.
“I need to go back to my hotel. I didn’t mean to move in here.”
“This is Russia. Dinner guests stay for days. It is not an imposition,” Tatiana said.
Sophia’s hand fluttered down to where her phone rested in the silky pocket of the robe. It was an almost involuntary tick.
Tatiana’s eyes followed the movement. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
“I’m okay. I’m fine,” Sophia said. “I can’t drink and party my way through this forever.”
“Why the fuck not? You have money. You are young. You are very pretty. That is exactly what you should do.”
“Maybe you want me around to make sure your boyfriend gets paid.”
Tatiana’s jaw locked. “That is not fair. I do not do this for money,” she spat. “I have money!”
She walked inside, leaving Sophia confused and torn on the balcony. “Tatiana, wait!” She followed her in.
She was leaning against the kitchen counter, tears on her face.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Tatiana blotted her tears with a dish towel. “Stupid American suka.”
“I deserve that. I’m a bitch. Total bitch.” Sophia moved closer to her.
Tatiana smiled through her tears. “You are, but I grow fond of you. And I don’t have girlfriends. I don’t know how to have girlfriends. I’ve fucked a couple of girls, but not had good friends.”
Sophia nodded. It didn’t surprise her Tatiana had slept with girls. Nothing about Tatiana surprised her. “I don’t always know either. I’m selfish sometimes. And I’m confused right now.” She leaned against the counter next to Tatiana. “I don’t know who to trust anymore.” Her voice was low because it was the most honest she’d been with anybody since she came here.
Tatiana leaned against her. “You can trust me. I trust you.”
Ivan strolled into the kitchen wet from his shower, towel secured around his waist. “Dobroye utro!” He smiled when he saw them. “Are you two getting ready to fuck? Because that would be just fine with me.”
“No!” Tatiana and Sophia said in unison.
“And good morning to you!” Tatiana slapped his butt.
He laughed and gently parted them so he could reach the coffee maker. Sophia slipped away to get dressed. It was getting close to ten, and she was due to make her daily, solemn trip to Palace Square.
Chapter 7
DMITRI
Dmitri’s guard handed him a phone. “A number keeps calling from the United States—a New Orleans area code.”
Dmitri waved him away. It was probably Pierre. He made a note to call him back. That was the second time he’d tried to call this week.
Right now, he had more important business to attend to.
“You called me here?” Gram said. He sat on the edge of the bed in their hotel room in Munich. Dmitri leaned against the table.
“The woman,” Dmitri said. “She is a job.”
“I know,” Gram said.
“Do you?”
“Yes,” Gram said. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, which was a rarity as it revealed his features. They were faintly similar to Dmitri’s. When they were little, their mother had pinched their cheeks and called them her matching cherubs. That was before his father had murdered her in a drunken rage. He shot himself next, sending the two boys into cramped and dirty orphanages.
But they had stayed together, all these years.
“I do not see that, brother,” Dmitri said. “I see a man very interested in a woman. A woman he cannot have.”
“Why?” Gram snapped. “You can do what you like, but I cannot?”
Dmitri stood from his chair, pacing over to the small double windows. “She is a job.”
Gram stared at Dmitri. “I know that.”
“Then stop.”
“What about Sophia?” Gram said.
“What about Sophia?” Dmitri barked back. He had the hollow feeling again, the one he tried to hide with brandy and scotch.
“She was not good for business, yet you fell for her. Even now, your men question you,” Gram said.
Dmitri shook his head, allowing his emotions to spill through. “They should not question me. If they do, they will die. Sophia is gone from me now.”
Gram shot up from the bed. “Is that so? Is that why you killed a man today? Because he questioned you or because he threatened Sophia? How do you think that looks to the men?” He exhaled loudly. “You do not get it, do you? They have seen a weakness. They want what you have. You cannot just fucking kill every person that questions you. You have to do something to change their opinion.”
“We are not discussing this!” Dmitri yelled. He sank back down in the chair, feeling every minute of his forty-three years. He calmed himself, slipping back into his cool, comfortable mask. “You and Naomi are done.”
“Fuck you, Dmitri,” Gram said.
“Go fuck yourself. And get ready. We leave today for Russia. I will get everyone back in line.”
Gram paused at the door to take in his words and then yanked it open and left.
Dmitri waited, immobile in his chair. He was not a good man, but he was a loyal man. He did not enjoy killing. But he would. He would tighten the circle and knock off anyone that was threatening his organization.
He shut his suitcase, put on his shoes, and nursed a scotch from the mini-refrigerator while he waited.
Gram knocked fifteen minutes later with a suitcase in
one hand and Naomi in a bright-blue dress in tow. The ride on the elevator was tense.
“It is show time, Naomi.” He said it more for Gram’s benefit than hers, to remind his brother that he only showed affection for Naomi in public because it was part of the job. He did not wish to unnecessarily inflict pain on him.
Dmitri put his hand on the small of her back, and Gram’s face took on harsh lines. She stepped closer to Dmitri. He glanced down at her, surprised to see an adoring look on her pretty features. But it was a look for someone else. Gram.
They climbed into the waiting car, hand in hand.
They didn’t notice the man in the lobby snapping pictures.
SOPHIA
Sophia and Tatiana leaned forward in their chairs, laughing. They were packed inside one of the many theaters along Nevsky Prospekt. They’d decided to take a night off from clubbing and go to the movies. They’d chosen a serious art film that had turned out to be unintentionally hilarious. She was enjoying herself, giggling so hard her sides hurt.
Then her phone vibrated in her pocket. Not her regular phone. Her burner phone.
She pulled it out and stared at it.
“Answer the fucking thing!” Tatiana hissed.
Sophia did. “Hello? Hello?”
Excitement erupted in her chest. She rose from her seat and ran down the aisle to the exit of the theatre, causing a few jeers to erupt from the seats behind her.
“Hello?” she said in the quiet, empty lobby.
“Sophia?” said a male voice. The line was scratchy and there was a delay. Most likely an international call.
“Yes?” she said.
“Target located. Be at this address tomorrow at noon.”
“Wait, hold on.” She frantically dug through her purse and pulled out a pen, trying to get her racing heart to slow down. “Okay, go.” He recited the address, which she wrote on her shaking hand.
“Do you understand?” said the voice.
“Yes.”
“Good. Dispose of the phone immediately.” The line went dead.
She took a deep, shaky breath and then walked into the restroom. She went into a stall and wrapped the phone in a tissue. She came out and slipped it into the large wastebasket.
She read the address on her hand over and over. She was sure it was burned in her memory, but copied it over to a scrap of paper she found in her purse just in case.