“Who’s the woman?” he asked Leonid.
“Don’t know. Pretty.”
Nik shrugged. She was, but she stirred no interest in him after he’d spent last night’s long, luxurious dream beneath Katya. Still, he needed to identify this woman, in case she revealed anything useful about Lisko.
The CEO’s smiling face grew serious. “With my uncle’s rapid decline over the last few months, he was unable to make a public statement regarding the suit filed on behalf of the residents of Ivanikyn Raion against our family business.”
Lisko made the company sound so folksy, not like the third biggest corporation in Ukraine, with weapons manufacturing, waste management, and private security contracts spread all over eastern Europe and central Asia. And that was the official stuff. From what Katya said, Nik was beginning to suspect those legitimate, if highly corrupt industries, also covered rackets in the drug trade and possibly human trafficking, if the Belovs were involved.
“On behalf of everyone who works at Lisko Enterprises,” said the CEO, “I extend my deepest sympathies to those whose loved ones have suffered radiation-related cancers in the affected zones. I lost my uncle to cancer, and though he was not a young man like many of these victims, I know firsthand that it is a horrible disease, and watching a loved one suffer its miseries is”—the thug cleared his throat—“difficult.”
Chert. Nik had to hand it to him, what a politician, not what he’d expected of the former heavyweight fighter.
“I have recently discovered that when Lisko Enterprises acquired Innovative Technologies and its private contracts for monitoring and remediating radiation levels in the Ivanikyn Raion a decade ago, its business practices and procedures were not carefully investigated. While I have the greatest respect for my uncle’s work, I have decided to conduct an internal investigation and cooperate completely with the special court that is hearing this case. Perhaps I will find we met the safety standards set forth by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. But if we instead discover a branch of Lisko Enterprises conducted business in a way that put the citizens of Ivanikyn Raion in jeopardy, we will take full responsibility.” He adjusted his tie and flashed a nervous smile. “Now, I’m told I must invite your questions, and that you will attempt to eat me alive.”
Another laugh rolled through the crowd.
Again, Nik made fists at his sides. He would love to shred this liar and his bullshit story with a thousand questions. But the reporters in the room hesitated—not a hand went up for several long seconds.
“Fucker,” Nik muttered.
Leonid swiveled his head to look at him. “Maybe. Or one of the only honest business men in Ukraine.”
“Four hundred people in those northern villages have extremely rare cancers, three hundred are dead, including my sister. What else can he say besides that he didn’t know?”
“He could say they monitored and met the safety standards set forth by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. That it’s not their fault if the standards are wrong. And whether it’s true or not, he could pay off experts, even judges to back up the story.”
Nikolai shook his head. He’d already read the playbook from which Lisko had snatched this strategy. Ten years ago, his last year of journalism school, he’d uncovered a huge story at the sports uni across town. Then a man he’d trusted had fed him this same line—all shock, innocence, and charm. Back then, he’d been stupid enough to believe it.
“We’ll investigate, and if we made mistakes, we’ll fix it.”
Yep. Lisko could be reading from the same exact script. Naive Nik had sat on what he’d uncovered about the illegal testing of a performance-enhancing drug, and it had cost an athlete her life. A blond angel of a girl named Velma Romanyshyn, who had her future stolen from her by a university willing to experiment on her. Nik kept her photo in his wallet so he’d never forget.
Even worse, the university had buried all the evidence of its responsibility. Nikolai had warned the bad guys he was on to them, and they’d gotten away with the crime.
He’d learned the hard lesson once and for all—journalists changed the world by airing the truth publicly, and as soon as they had that truth in their hands. He never broke a story too soon, but he barreled through an investigation as fast as he could, waiting for that perfect moment when he had all the facts, before anyone had time to cover their tracks.
This time, while Lisko was busy playing nice and defending his family business, Nik would reveal Lisko Enterprises for the malignant growth that it was. But first things first, Fedir Antipin had never worked for a pharmaceutical company, and he had to tell Katya the man she considered her savior was a liar.
He should to stop on the way home for some liquid courage, and some iron pills. It might take a lot of blood to see this story through. He just hoped like hell Katya knew details that would bring down Lisko.
Chapter 8
After her chat with the mara in Mr. Kulish’s bathroom mirror, Katya gave in to the spiritual pull that tugged her downward. If she’d let it, the leash would have dragged her through the floor and two stories straight down into Nikolai’s bathroom. But she ghosted through the hallways and stairwells instead. Anything to avoid the icky, dissolvey feeling of passing through objects, and the fear that she might simply disintegrate and not reintegrate.
Her shudder rippled through particles of ether or ectoplasm or whatever it was that formed her.
When she arrived in the bathroom, its door only narrowly ajar, she stretched her vaporous form long, as if sucking in her belly to fit in the small space. Bobbing on the gentle air currents blowing from the heating vent, she stared at that place where Fedir had died and let the mara stoke her anger—so much blood, her hero’s life stolen, pale and broken on the floor.
Her ethereal particles bounced, boiling with fury.
Yes. With the help of the vengeful spirit inside her, she would find the courage to make Lisko pay.
Nikolai wanted Lisko to admit culpability, dole out settlement packages, perhaps serve time in jail. How would she ever convince him to bring Fedir’s killer to her?
He burst into the room, cheeks flushed pink, chest rising and falling, a flustered and very fine male specimen. “Katya, are you here?”
At once, her fury calmed, and she drifted upward, buoyant.
“Yes,” she whispered for no reason.
Setting down a shopping bag, he searched the air as if he could see her, then crouched in front of the vanity, rummaging inside it. Once he found the shaving kit, he dropped onto that sculpted backside of his and inched backward to lean against the wall.
Rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt, he winced. Did his arm still ache from where he’d cut himself earlier? She reached her ghost hand out to stroke his bandage and then tucked it behind her. He glanced up again into the air, his gaze sweeping from corner to corner, past her invisible form.
Returning his attention to his arm, he pumped his fist as if trying to make the veins bulge, then took firm hold of the razor, his handsome face stony as he sliced about an inch down from the crook of his arm and the previous cut. The blood oozed and began to drop. Splat. Splat.
“I wish I knew when you disappeared.” He muttered through clenched teeth.
Why did that matter?
Splat. Splat. Splat. The blood began to pool, more than last time.
Oh, right. Knowing the duration of her time in the skin would tell him how long his blood lasted, how much he should spill. She brought her thumbnail to her mouth. Crap—still vapor, and even more disappointing, since she’d actually nibbled away at her anxiety earlier.
He wants Lisko too, the mara rasped. He needs you.
Katya glanced at the creature’s menacing reflection in the mirror and nodded. She sank downward toward the floor, and a good thing too, because seconds later, the weight of her own flesh crashed upon her, bringing her to her knees in front of him.
She lifted her head to look at him face to fac
e. “Hi.”
“Hi.” That stony expression of his cracked into a small smile, as if she were a secret joke, or maybe a secret pleasure.
Her skin heated all over and, glancing away, she stood. Inside his shopping bag, she caught sight of first aid supplies. She found him a pad of gauze and unwrapped it. “Did you learn anything at Novyye Resheniya?”
He exhaled, sounding drained. Whether from bleeding or from his expedition, she didn’t know. Palm up, he accepted the cottony square and pressed it to his fresh wound. “Yes and no.”
Her belly twisted, starved again after eating half a loaf’s worth of toast and jam. “What do you mean?” He lifted the corner of the gauze up, but she swatted away his hand. “Not yet. Tell me, what did you learn about Fedir’s job?”
Nikolai met her gaze and a warning darkened his blue eyes.
The twist in her stomach tightened. She sat back, practically bare-bottomed on the cold tile floor, and tried to cover her exposed skin with her limbs.
He reached up and pulled his bath towel off the rack before draping it over her shoulders. “He never worked there.”
“Of course he did.” A nervous chuckle burst from her throat as she broke the seal on a box of bandages and peeled the adhesive backing off one. “Now check the wound.”
He obeyed, revealing a dry incision, the skin around it angry and red. When she pressed the bandage onto it, his warm and big hand came to cover hers.
“He didn’t, Katya.”
She pulled her hand back and hugged the towel around her body tightly. “He got up and went in every day, dressed for sales calls. Sometimes, he even traveled for them.”
Nikolai shook his head. “I had a friend there double-check the employee database.”
The news made no sense. She brought her hand to her mouth. Thank goodness, this time her teeth found purchase on her thumbnail. “Why would he say that he did?”
“Because his real job wasn’t legit, and he didn’t want you to know.”
“No.” With a splash of red over her vision, the suggestion bathed her in anger. “He was one of the good guys.” Agitation buzzed and boiled inside her as if she were still made of ghostly vapor—the mara getting angry, like she wanted to burst out of Katya’s flesh. She gripped the edge of the towel, working hard to control the ghost within.
“Maybe not.” Nikolai’s gaze flicked from her face to her hands and back. “Sometimes people aren’t who we think they are.” He stroked the back of her fingers, tried to pry them loose.
“He was good. He saved me.” She squeezed her fists harder, tears stinging behind her eyes as she stared at Nikolai’s blood, pooled where Fedir had died. At least her voice came out strong.
Gently, Nikolai took hold of her wrists, put his face so near to her that she had to look at him. “Saved you from what?”
She hadn’t really ever spoken of it, not even to Fedir, beside the most basic explanations. He’d found her, seen her fear, and cradled her through it. That had been enough.
“He saved me from the Belovs.”
Nikolai sucked in a harsh gasp. “Fuck. How the hell did you get tangled up with them?”
The question held a taint of the same accusation he’d leveled at Fedir, and she curled in on herself. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but neither of her parents found her worth saving. Fedir had, though.
“Hey.” Lightly, Nikolai touched her chin, tilting her face up to his. “I’m sorry. I want to hear the story.”
“It was because of my dad. I went to an opening for him. At a gallery on Frunze Street, which is safe enough. I didn’t stay long. Those things are always suffocating. A bunch of people trying to pretend they aren’t leering at me and comparing my clothed body to what they’ve seen of my mother’s.”
Nikolai’s lip curled up. “Christ. But what were the Belovs doing there? They weren’t exactly known for their love of fine art.”
They were known as ruthless human traffickers, selling women into slavery all over the world, if the girls managed to survive being transported in shipping containers like livestock. Only the man who’d wanted to buy Katya had been local, an obsessed fan of her mother’s, willing to pay some outrageous amount to own the daughter in Svetlana’s place. Maybe he’d been some sort of perverted art lover, but the Belovs were not.
“Wait. Did you say were?” she asked. “Past tense?”
He nodded briskly, reassuringly. “They’re dead. Arrested. Both murdered in prison before their trials could begin. And the cops were able to unravel their operation—freed a lot of girls, stopped the trafficking channels.”
A shudder of relief passed through her. Had they freed the women she’d been caged with? Stolen from all over the continent of Asia, together they’d barely shared a single common word, but they’d held each other in the dark, offering the comfort of at least not being alone. She’d always felt guilty escaping without them, but Fedir had adamantly warned against searching for them, and she hadn’t known where they’d been kept.
Pretty Gulasyl with the dramatic Kazakh features and the emerald eyes—was she alive somewhere making someone laugh the way she’d relieved Katya’s fear with silly pantomimes? A tear escaped Katya’s eye, full of bittersweet hope for the girls.
Nikolai stroked the line of her jaw. “Tell me what happened.”
“They grabbed me outside the gallery. Apparently, my dad owes them money for a little…habit he has. It takes a lot of white powder up his nose to maintain his convictions of genius. Don’t tell the Nobel Prize Committee.”
His eyebrows shot up and he coughed a dry laugh, then grew serious. “Did they…?” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and her mouth watered with the urge to taste his skin there. “Were you…hurt?”
Her pathetic heart fluttered. He was merely showing basic human concern, but it was enough to make her desperate for more, and to make her miss Fedir, who had truly cared about her.
“Not badly. I was drugged, locked up, scared to death. But no one touched me. They had a buyer who wanted me…unharmed.”
He winced. “And Fedir?”
“He was there the day they came to move me, with his buddy from Novyye Reshiniya who supplied the Belovs. He seemed to be watching me all morning, and then when the guys took a cigarette break, he got me out.”
“They left you unguarded?”
“Of course not. They left me with two guards. Fedir killed them.”
Nikolai whistled, his brows knitting together. “With?”
Only then did she realize how it made her white knight sound, and she covered her mouth, whispering her answer through her fingers. “With his handgun.”
“And it never seemed odd to you that your good guy with an office job carried that weapon? They don’t permit those for just anybody.”
Nikolai’s pitying look was too much. The mara began to buzz inside her again.
“At the time, I was a little too shocked to question it.” She leaned against the wall, crossed her arms, and tried to breathe her angry little ghost into calm.
“And now?”
“If Fedir lied, it was for a good reason.” Was it her imagination, or had a little of the siren’s song slid into her speech?
Nikolai raked his hand through his hair and then turned up his palm. “Like what? He really worked for Berkut?”
She tried to clear the mara’s magic from her voice with a cough, and the hacking sound proved an appropriate response to the absurd question. “No.”
Skinny Fedir, who’d loved to play special ops guys in video games but, in spite of hours of practice, wasn’t much of a shot? No way had he been in the secret police. Clearly Nikolai was mocking her, if gently, with the suggestion.
She straightened her spine. “He was good. He saved me.”
“I know you really want to believe that, but I’m going to have to investigate the possibility that it isn’t true.”
“He was good.” The mara made the command in her potent s
iren voice, and in a burst of fury, took a hold of Katya’s body. She slammed her fists into the floor and heard cracks. Her bones? She flexed her hands—no. But the tiles beneath her were shattered. Wow. The mara made her strong.
Nikolai scrambled back and shot to his feet. “Christ, Katya.”
His blue eyes shone wild with fear, his gaze volleying all over her as if she might hurt him.
Crap. Letting the angry mara get control and intimidate him was no way to say thanks for his help. She took a deep breath, and with it sent a not-so-subtle message that the ghost inside her needed to chill. But what Nikolai was suggesting…
“Sorry. I just…” She brought her fist to her mouth to silence a sob and then wrapped her torso in his towel. “I just need some air. If I can borrow some more clothes, I’ll take a little walk up to the roof and think about what you said, okay?”
His big shoulders relaxed, his eyes softening to focus on her face with that pity again. “Yeah, of course. Come on. I’ll find you something.”
“Okay.” She slipped across the hall, hoping Dariya was not around to spy her. Then she slipped into the new pair of sweat pants and oversized woolen sweater and tiptoed to the front door. He was watching her, and she nodded farewell before sliding out.
In the hallway, she let her feet fall heavily, quickly, toward the stairs. Four flights up, she flung open the heavy exterior door and breathed. The sun had already sunk behind another apartment building, and wind whipped across Kiev’s rooftops, whacking her in the face, cold and clarifying.
Fresh air. She swallowed it in gulps. A year since she’d been outside.
Even after she’d settled in with Fedir, she hadn’t really been free to leave the building, with the Belovs looking for her, and the media chomping at the bit for news of the missing Dvoynev girl. Her parents had pled poor and refused to ransom her but made countless TV appearances begging for news of their kidnapped daughter as if they had no idea where she was, as if she hadn’t been taken to pay her father’s debts.
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