Last Kiss

by Jessica Clare

  I don’t know who will be after us, but we need no interruptions at this moment.

  “Do you care to tell me who you sold me out to?” I hold my gun loosely at my side. There is no need to point it at Aleksei now. He now knows I will shoot him if I have the slightest belief he is going to do something to annoy me.

  “The Golubevs,” he says sullenly.

  I’m offended. “Those brainless bastards? I cannot believe you dealt with them. Am I such a kitten that you think the Golubevs could bring me down?” I sit again by Naomi, for I feel better with her even breathing behind me.

  “They offer me much money.”

  “Enough to leave Russia? Because there would be no place in Russia or all of Europe that I would not be able to find you.”

  “Yes, enough. Besides you would be . . .” He trails off.

  “Dead?”

  He nods.

  Closing my eyes, I give thanks that his stupidity is revealed before it can do me more harm. “You are so dumb, friend. I am taking the Bratva in a new and better direction, and you could have been part of that. Instead, you sell out to imbeciles, and for what? To have your blood and brains decorate an empty hotel room in Brazil? You could have lived like a king.”

  Aleksei erupts at my words, shooting to his feet and then falling back down when the pain strikes him. Moaning, he yells at me. “We were making plenty of money under Sergei. Your plan to stop selling krokodil or females who are no better than sheep, because of some grander vision, is insanity. Sergei may have been a bad leader, but you are worse. Your belief that we are a brotherhood, your investments—” He spits out the last word as if it is a curse. “We are criminals! Retrieving the Emperor so he—or she—can run credit card scams, skim off bank funds, or ruin people is a superb idea, but using her to find a stupid painting? Bah.” He spits. “You are no better than the Golubevs.”

  Naomi has sat up now. She cannot hide her intense interest. I turn to her. “It is an immense insult. The Golubevs are petty thieves who survive only on protection money. Their power is in their might, but one stone from a sling can take down a giant.”

  She nods solemnly. “I’ve read that story. First book of Samuel in the Bible. David takes down the Philistine giant. Goliath’s height was determined to be between six feet nine inches or nine feet nine inches. Either way, quite tall. You know the statue of David by Michelangelo is uncircumcised.”

  Like me. I’m beginning to follow her wandering mind. “I’ve seen it at the Accademia. It is quite impressive.”

  “I’d like to see it,” she says.

  “Then you shall.”

  “Now would be a good time. Well, after Rome,” she says, and then her eyelids flutter down so that I cannot even see a glimpse of the ocean. But I catch her meaning. She knows something and she’s telling me that we should go to Italy. Energized, I smile. Dangerous, seductive, but perhaps willing to help.

  “This is not tea time,” Aleksei interrupts with a growl.

  “One minute, Naomi.” I lift my index finger. “I have to take care of this, and then we shall talk about our travel plans.”

  She gives me a curt nod of her head, one motion up and down. With deep regret, I turn to Aleksei. “As criminals we were volk. Dangerous predators, yes, but we were hunted, too. By the law, by other criminals. It is no way to live. To be truly free Aleksei, we must control the volk, not be the volk.”

  “You and your fairy tales. It is from being cosseted by Elena Petrovich,” he sneers.

  “What Elena Petrovich wanted, Elena Petrovich received. She wanted her children to be educated and we were,” I answer.

  “You are not her child. You were her toy,” he retorts. “You are some whelp from a village that Alexsandr stole so that you could become part of his ubitsya army.”

  “I did not realize you were so jealous of me. I am sorry you are not as pretty as I and that Elena did not take a close interest in you,” I mock. But Aleksei and I both know he was the fortunate one to have escaped Elena’s attention. I did not ask to be chosen by Elena. I did not ask or want to be noticed. At first, it confused me, then it disgusted me, and finally I realized I could use it to my advantage. Her hungry eyes and her touch will always send me to a dark place, but I also know that despite that she is the devil herself, I cannot cast her aside or have her killed. Not yet.

  If returning with this painting will solidify my hold on the Petrovich Bratva, then this errand is worthwhile. Once I am in control, I will no longer be a pawn of any man or any woman, and my family will be free.

  Aleksei looks away, ashamed. Sullenly, he replies, “The Bratva depends on girls and drugs. You are trying to push us into things that we do not understand.”

  “When you were a child, did you understand adult things? Did you understand that you brushed your teeth to prevent decay? That you must eat good food to balance the candy and sweets? That to please a woman, you must do more than plow her field? That when you split open the guts of another man, you can see his spirit rise to the heavens? As a child you know nothing. You grow and learn. We are children in the business world, but we will conquer it because we know certain things can bring success. What we don’t know, we will learn by acquiring the right people.” I gesture to Naomi. “We need someone who can infiltrate any technological barrier in the world, and now we have the Emperor.”

  “She is no emperor. She is but a weak, puny girl. Look at her. She can no more break into Neuer Arbat in Moscow than she could into the Vatican or Vauxhall Cross. She could not even break into a grocery store.”

  “Hey, I can, too. There is no system that I can’t breach. I could break into your stupid Kremlin,” Naomi protests indignantly. “I can probably tell you in five minutes everything you own, everything you’ve done in your life. In fact, I could probably tell you where you shit two nights ago.”

  I bark out a laugh. “There you go, Aleksei. Why do you doubt her?”

  “She doesn’t eat real food. She stares at her monitor and mouths things repeatedly like a maniac.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she yells at him, getting up onto her feet, her tiny hands forming tiny fists. I want to scoop her in my arms for being adorable but this is not the time.

  “She doesn’t even look you in the eye, not even now.” He points at her face, which turns deep red at his accusation. My laughter dies and I place a soothing hand on her arm.

  “But, Aleksei, you look me in the eye and lie to me. It’s as if you kissed me on the mouth with the same lips that you used to suck the cock of another man, so her lack of eye contact means nothing.”

  His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to beg for his life, but we have no time to listen to pleas that will change nothing. Before another word is released from his mouth, I shoot him. He falls to the side and then tumbles to the ground.

  Naomi flinches at the gunshot but says nothing. Grabbing my belt from the cushions where she had abandoned it, I slide the leather through the loops with one hand while holding the gun in the other. It is difficult to fasten a belt one-handed and after watching me try again, she comes over and bats my hands away. In two swift moves, she has fixed my belt, but the proximity of her hands near my waist and her soft, sweetly scented body next to mine make my pants fit about one size too tight. I step back before I can alert her to this fact.

  “Do you need anything upstairs?” I ask.

  “The computer.”

  “We can buy you a new one.” I lean against the door to see if I can hear footsteps or even the elevator.

  “I have code running on it,” she protests. But I have had enough of her lies and subterfuges. She may have captured me, but I am not helpless.

  Catching her chin, I look at her and say softly, “I will not hurt you so long as you do as I ask. Be loyal and you will live. Cross me and you, too, will have a hole between your eyes.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  NAOMI

  “I do not want a hole between my eyes,” I tell him. “You do realize that would
kill me? A human cannot survive a hole between the eyes, though there have been some medical cases in which a screwdriver or a nail was embedded behind an eye socket and the subject actually was fine until—”

  “It was a threat.”

  Oh. I blink. This is the first time that Vasily has actually threatened me. I frown to myself and study him, trying to figure him out. He’s been polite to me before, and caring. I’m taken aback by this change. Maybe shooting the other man has put him in a bad mood.

  He grabs my hand and drags me forward before I can protest that he’s touching me. “Come. We go.”

  Not this again. “Where are we going?”

  “We are leaving this place. It is festering with Golubevs.” He drags me along behind him down the hall¸ and we make our way back to the fire exit. He takes off his shoes and instructs that I do the same, and we creep down the stairs quietly.

  I think of the laptop we left upstairs. It’s bothering me. I should have insisted we take it with us, if nothing else, to wipe the drive and erase my footprint. I’ll have to hack into it from afar and clean the slate. I don’t like leaving my workstation unattended. It’s one of my (many) compulsions and it’s really getting to me, to the point that I can’t think of anything else.

  I’m so distracted by thoughts of the laptop that I’m hardly paying attention when Vasily shoves his shoes into my hands. “Wait here.”

  I tilt my head and watch him stalk to the door of the stairwell. He’s moving like a hunting cat I saw at the zoo once, all predatory muscle and imminent danger. Then, the door flies open and he steps through it, grabbing something. I see a flurry of dark fabric and thrashing limbs, and then I hear a snapping noise.

  A man in a suit slumps to the ground at Vasily’s feet, neck at an odd angle.

  Vasily looks in my direction and gestures quickly, impulsively, for me to follow him.

  I do, neatly stepping over the body. “Where are we going?”

  “Airport,” he says, adjusting his jacket. “To Rome.”

  I brighten. “To see uncircumcised penises?”

  “Among other things.” He looks around, and then gives me another gesture. I am to follow him into an alley.

  I do so, clutching our shoes. We have not put them on yet, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to stop. I really should protest about the germs we could be picking up, but now does not seem to be the time.

  We round a corner and run into another man in a suit. I gasp, but before I can react, Vasily grabs the man’s head and smashes it into a nearby wall. Just boom. The man crumples and Vasily continues stalking down the alley, a predator at work.

  Fascinating. I admit I’m impressed.

  Two more alleys, and we come to a busy cross street. Vasily grabs the door of a cab and jerks it open. He leans in and snarls something, and two people spill out the other side of the cab, running into the street. Then, he looks back at me and points at the cab.

  I get in, and Vasily slides in next to me. “Aeroporto,” he says and pulls out a fistful of money. “Rápido.”

  The man nods and takes the money.

  Vasily relaxes as the cab speeds down the street. He glances behind us once, and then grunts. “They do not follow. Dumb fool Golubevs. They will sit in the lobby and wait for hours, thinking they are so clever.”

  I hand him his shoes.

  “You are quiet. Do not be afraid of me.” His voice is soft, soothing, as if trying to calm me.

  “I’m not afraid.”

  He arches an eyebrow as if questioning my words. He almost looks affronted that I’m not scared. Vasily leans in and speaks in a low voice. “No more lies.”

  “I’m not lying. I’m not afraid.” A bit surprised at how fast things are moving, but not afraid. No one wants me dead. What is there to be afraid of?

  “You saw me kill two men. This does not frighten you? Most women would be sobbing and weeping in a corner.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know those men. Should I be upset?”

  “Are you not upset that human life was taken?”

  “They were bad guys.”

  “Nyet, moy besstrashnyy devushka, we are the bad guys.”

  “Then they were worse guys.”

  He laughs, the sound humorless despite the smile curving his hard mouth. “You have a simplistic view of things.”

  “I don’t feel emotions the way ‘normal’ people do.” I shrug my shoulders and bend a knee, propping my foot on the seat of the taxi so I can put my shoe back on. “I don’t know those men. They mean nothing to me alive or dead.”

  “I am not sure if this makes you a sociopath or the perfect woman.”

  I’ve heard the sociopath comment before, but not the perfect woman part. It throws me for a loop. I blink at him and my fingers reach for my baseball cap, to run along its comforting bill.

  It’s gone.

  I realize a moment too late that it’s back at the hotel, next to my laptop.

  I burst into tears.

  “And now the tears come,” Vasily mutters, and he sounds disappointed.

  “My hat,” I moan, weeping. “I left my hat at the hotel.”

  He pauses. “You are crying over a hat?”

  “It’s my hat,” I wail, my voice getting louder. Clearly he does not understand its importance. “I need it! I can’t function without it! Turn around!”

  “We are not going back,” he says in a firm voice. “You will have to forget it.”

  “My hat!”

  “Forget it.”

  “My hat.” The cab driver is staring at me in the rearview mirror. I don’t care. I need that hat. It’s been with me since I was a child. It’s seen me through so much shit. It’s comforting in a world of strangeness, and I need that comfort to ground myself. I’m throwing a tantrum like a child, but I don’t care. I need my hat. I need it. I decide it’s time to pull out the big guns again. I start a full-body tremble. He won’t stop? I’ll make him stop—

  The big Russian grabs my jaw and pulls my face against his. For a man that doesn’t like to be touched, he sure is touching me a lot. “Do not even think about it,” he whispers against my skin. “I know this for a lie.”

  I swallow hard and go still. The loss of my hat is sending me into a panic, but I know a threat when I hear one.

  “Good,” he says softly when I calm. His gaze flicks to my mouth, and for an odd moment, I think he wants to kiss me. But that’s . . . weird. “No seizures,” he tells me. “We do not have time for such things.”

  Vasily is the first person other than Daniel that has seen through my seizure game. Even my parents have fallen victim to it. But this man? This predator? I can’t bluff him. That disturbs me almost as much as the loss of my hat. I chew on my lip, anxiety welling up as I think of my hat, lost and alone in the hotel room. My fingers twitch and I find that I’m twining them in Vasily’s clothing, looking for some sort of anchor. I feel utterly lost. “I need my hat,” I say softly, and my voice sounds broken. I feel broken. How can I function without my hat? “Please.”

  “I will get you a new one.” He’s still staring at my mouth. His fingers are still on my face, and he’s still staring at my mouth. I wish I understood what he was thinking.

  “It’s not the same if you replace my hat,” I tell him slowly, and his gaze follows my words as my lips move. “I need that one. It’s my talisman. It helps me sleep. It helps me think. How will I be able to function without it?”

  “You will manage,” he says. “You are strong.”

  I don’t feel strong at the moment. I feel very naked and vulnerable without my hat. I feel like crying even more, but I know Vasily won’t like my tears. I sniff them back and try to calm down. I flex my fingers and release his clothing. “I’m sorry. I’m touching you and I know you don’t like that.”

  He grunts. I don’t know if that’s agreement or relief, but he lets go of me.

  —

  We’re silent on the way to the airport. I don’t know what Vasily is thinking about
, but I’m thinking about my hat and my laptop. I feel as if I’ve been stripped of all comforting items, and I don’t like it. I don’t care that men were chasing us; all I can think about is returning to the hotel to get my hat back. Maybe the computer. Maybe.

  I wasn’t lying when I told Vasily that I have a hard time functioning without my talismans. I like for everything to be in order. Things have to be in their place and just so in order for my brain to function optimally, and my hat is part of my work process. I sit down, put on my hat, put on headphones—but I don’t listen to anything. I like silence, and the headphones just muffle things even more. The mouse must be at exactly a ninety-degree angle from the right-hand side of the keyboard, and the keyboard must have a number pad. I need a chair big enough to sit cross-legged in and I must work uninterrupted.

  And I must have all these things in order to work. The fact that I won’t fills me with dread.

  Even Hudson, who held me for two years and was an awful man, let me have my hat. What next? Is someone going to try and make me eat something red? Yellow? Deprive me of hand sanitizer?

  The cab stops and Vasily gestures for me to get out. “Let’s go.”

  I look at him. “I refuse to eat tomatoes or squash, just so you know.”

  He stares at me for a long time. His lips twitch. “Get out of car.”

  I get out and head for the staircase leading up to the jet. It’s a small one, and I wonder how many people will be on it.

  When I get on board, though, I realize there is just me and Vasily. If there is a pilot, he’s not coming out to greet us. I stand in the center of the aisle, examining the oversized leather seats.

  Vasily moves behind me. “Take seat. We are leaving soon.”

  “I need to wipe it down first,” I tell him. Without my hat, my anxieties are surging to the forefront, and I feel the insane urge to sanitize everything in the plane. “Do you have antibacterial wipes?”

  He mutters something in Russian and disappears into the cockpit. I hear him talking to someone, again in Russian. He returns a moment later with a package. I open it, pull out wipes, and begin to clean off a chair for myself. My fingers twitch and want to run across the brim of my hat, but of course it’s not there, which just sets me further on edge. Finally, though, I sit down and buckle in.