216

Kira
Even though I tried to block all thoughts of Maykl, I wake replaying the moment in which he told me about killing my father.
Because I realize, he did try to tell me. He told me everything but who the man he killed was. I know that he didn’t want to do it. He felt he had no choice. That he was only thirteenthe same age I was at the time. I’m guessing, like me, he probably didn’t even know why it happened.
I crawl off the bed steeped in sorrow.
But the sorrow isn’t just for me.
It’s also for Maykl.
And for us.
The loss of us. Because what we had was special. Remarkable, even. I don’t trust people. Haven’t let a single man into my heart since the day the bratva took Anya. I’ve avoided intimacy. Rejected closeness, seeing it as weakness.
But somehow, unbelievably, I came to trust Mayklthe last man on Earth I should have let my guard down with. He captured me and held me prisoner and still somehow made me fall in love.
I check my phone and find he messaged me. Like a fool, I hold the phone to my chest.
I don’t answer, though. I’m still too battered by it all to even function. And right now, I need to get myself showered and dressed to see Mika.
The Waldorf is a beautiful hotel, not that Maykl’s apartment wasn’t just as luxurious. I turn on the shower and step under the spray of water, washing off the horror of yesterday.
Flashes of the damage I caused keep splintering through my thoughts. The siege on the Kremlin. The shoot-out in the garage. Gospodi, what if the Moscow bratva had succeeded in their plan to kidnap Sasha? It would have been all my fault. How could I have been so stupid?
Did I really think I was working for the FBI? What an idiot. I can only chalk it up to my grief and fear over Mika’s well-being.
Stepanov used me. Put a gun to my head, the bastard!
I shove the thoughts away. First, I see Mika.
Then I can figure the rest of this out.
I get dressed and go down to the lobby for coffee and a muffin. My stomach is in knots and my mouth is dry. I barely choke down the breakfast then go to Vlad’s hotel suite and knock on the door.
An American woman answers the door with a smile. “Hi. Kira? I’m Alessia, Mika’s adopted mom.” An adorable blonde preschooler hugs her leg. “This is our daughter, Lara.”
They have more than one child. Like a real family. For some reason, that warms my heart.
“Come on in.” She holds the hotel door open for me, and I step in, looking past her and the child to take in the teenager behind her. He stands nearly six feet tall. He’s lean and lanky like he just had a growth spurt. He stands beside Vlad, imitating his adopted father’s watchful stance.
“Mika.”
“Hey.” He sounds like an American, too. A gruff, awkward, normal American teenager. My heart squeezes.
“Do you remember me?” I speak in Russian.
He answers in English. “Yeah. Sort of. A little bit.”
I’m not usually a hugger, but I go in for an embrace.
He returns it, awkwardly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner. Your mom and Iwe had a fight about her coming to America. I didn’t want her to leave. I begged her to leave you with me, but she wouldn’t hear of it. And because of our fight, she stopped speaking to me. I lost touch with her. I didn’t know anything until I was contacted by the consulate last week” I stop, abruptly, and catch Vlad’s gaze. “Does he know?”
“That Anya’s dead?” Mika asks bitterly. “Yeah.”
My eyes flood. “I’m so sorry she left you. I wish I’d known, Mika. I swear I would have come to get you.”
He takes a step back, and I make an effort to rein in my emotions.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“It’s fine.” He’s back to awkward. “You’re not taking me back to Russia, though.”
“No.” I glance at Vlad and Alessia. “You have a new family now. I’m so glad.”
Lara, the little girl, taps my leg to show me a children’s book. The lettering is Cyrillic. I smile at her. “Do you speak Russian?” I ask in my native tongue.
“I can read this,” she boasts, answering in Russian.
Mika rolls his eyes. “She has it memorized. She doesn’t read yet.” He beckons to Lara, who brings him the book. He cracks it open and points at an elephant. “Who’s that?”
Oh God. It’s so normal and absolutely precious. Mika has a mom and a dad and a little sister, and they are storybook sweet. I thought I would need to swoop in and rescue him, but he’s flourishing here.
“We’ll be here all week,” Alessia says. “I’m from Chicago, and half my family lives here. I thought we could maybe show you around the city, so you can spend some time with Mika. We could take the kids to Shedd Aquarium this afternoon,” Alessia says. “I was going to see if my sister-in-law and her two kids wanted to come, too.”
I bob my head. “Yes. Absolutely. I’d love to.” I blink rapidly to hold back my tears. I don’t want to make Mika uncomfortable. “That is so kind of you.”
And then I realize I can’t.
Not while my stomach is in knots and my heart is torn in two.
Now that I know and have seen with my own eyes how happy and adjusted Mika is, I need to fix everything that’s broken with me.
Starting with Maykl and possibly ending with Stepanov.
“There are some things I need to take care of, first.”
Vlad nods like he knows what happened yesterday. He probably does since he was waiting for me to show up last night.
“May I get your cell number and be in touch as soon as I can join you?”
“Absolutely. Give me your phone.” Alessia has that easy manner of being warm and familiar with me, even though we’re strangers. Like Sasha and Kat were with me.
I haven’t had many friendsfemale or male. Most of my life was about surviving my family situation. Anya was my best friend until she wasn’t, and I never really recovered from losing her.
I hand her my phone, and she enters her number and returns it with a smile.
“Great. Thanks. I, um…I need to go, but I look forward to spending time with you later.”
Mika lifts his hand in an awkward farewell.
I wave back. “Thank you both,” I say to Vlad and Alessia. “For flying out here and meeting me. It means so much.”
“Go on,” Vlad says. “We’ll see you again soon.”
I’m already backing toward the door. “Yes. Thank you.”
I practically run for the elevator. Now that I have a purpose, now that I’ve figured out what needs to be done, I can’t wait another second.
I take the elevator downstairs, and the doorman hails me a cab for the short drive to the Kremlin.
I rush through the front doors, hoping to see Maykl behind the desk, but he’s not there. There’s an armed guard stationed just inside the door. Behind the desk, an older man surveys me with narrowed eyes.
“I’m here to see Maykl,” I say to him in Russian. “Can you tell him Kira is here?”
“I know who you are.” There’s accusation in his gaze, which I fully deserve. “Maykl is with our pakhan. Answering for letting you go free, no doubt.”
I square my shoulders and lift my chin. “Tell your pakhan I’m here to surrender. I want to help get Stepanov. I should have killed him yesterday.”
The old man picks up his cell phone and texts something. A moment later, he beckons the guard near the door. “Take her to Ravil.”
I follow the guard into the elevator to the top floor, where a giant man awaits. He doesn’t speak but beckons me to follow him into a gorgeous penthouse suite and down a hallway to an office.
Inside, a blond man sits behind a desk. He’s younger than I expected, perhaps in his early forties. Maxim sits in a chair opposite the desk, and he pulls out a seat for me.
“Where’s Maykl?” I ask, suddenly afraid for him.
Did he suffer some kind of punishment for letting me go? If so, I will never forgive myself.
“Sit.” Ravil has mastered the art of imperiousness.
I work to calm my racing pulse as I sink into the chair beside Maxim. I’m still in my woolen coat because it doesn’t feel right to take it off. I don’t know how long I’m staying. Or if I’m welcome to get comfortable.
I drop into the seat and wait for him to say something, but he just studies me, so I speak. “I want to help you catch Stepanov.”
“Oh, I won’t be catching him,” Ravil says. “I’ll be killing him.”
I ignore the goosebumps racing across my arms. Making the hairs at the back of my neck stand.
I don’t condone murder. That’s why I couldn’t shoot at Stepanov when I had the chance. But I don’t feel particularly judgmental over his desire to end the man who tried to kill him and blow up his building.
If they hadn’t had advance warning, every occupant of this building might be dead right now.
“I can call him and ask for help. If they’re not watching the building, they may not know which side I’m on.”
“Why would you do this thing?” Ravil asks. There’s nothing friendly about his visage. His expression is stony, his gaze cold.
I clasp my trembling hands together. “Because it’s my fault they got in. I caused this problem for you, and I want to fix it.”
“You are working with the real FBI now, perhaps?”
Of course, he mistrusts me. What reason have I given for them to take my word?
I shake my head. “No. I’m…I’m with you. I mean” Gospodi, what do I mean? I swallow and try to swallow the lump in my throat. “My loyalties are here with”
“With whom?”
“With Maykl.” My eyes fill with tears. “Where is he? Did you… is he safe?”
Ravil appears satisfied. “He is safe,” he assures me.
He tips his head at Maxim. “Bring him in.”
I stand from my chair, my breath caught up in my throat. A moment later, Maxim returns with Maykl. I run to him as if our one night apart had been a million years.
It felt even longer. I now know what it would be like to live without him, and I know I never want that.
I don’t want to go back to Russia. I don’t want to return to my old, hollow life. I don’t care about any of it.
All I know is that Maykl somehow repaired the things in me that were broken. And yes, he was responsible for one of those wounds, but I know he’d do anything he could to make it up to me. And, ultimately, as much as I love my dad, he caused his own demise. And he sold Anya.
I fly into Maykl, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me tight.
“Moya malen’kaya Valkiriya,” he murmurs.
“Fix things with her,” Ravil says to Maykl. “Then we move on Stepanov. Go.”
Maykl
I can’t believe it. Kira is here. In my arms.
She still wants me.
I bustle her out of the penthouse, in a hurry to get her somewhere private. I opt for the stairs to the roof, since she’s wearing her red coat. Taking her hand, I lead her up to the roof’s edge where I cradle her face in my hands.
“I’m sorry, Kira. I’m sorry I was the one. I wish it was different. I wish I knew how to make it up to you.”
She holds my wrists. “I’m okay. I…I can’t even say I’m sorry it happened. Because if you hadn’t been the one, you never would’ve been in the bratva, and then…someone else would’ve been guarding that door the night arrived.”
My eyes burn.
“Sweet Valkiriya. We would have met. If not here, there. Somehow. We were destined for each other.”
“Yes.” Her laugh is watery. “Yes, we would have met.”
“So…” I don’t know how to ask this. “Are you…Will you stay? I want you, Kira. I don’t want to let you go home. Or leave this building. Or my life. Please… tell me you’ll stay.”
She nods. “I’m staying. I have nothing to go back to. Mika is here in the States. My job was bogus. My boss is a criminal. My life was empty before I met you. That’s a fact.”
I kiss her, claiming her soft lips. She moves them against mine with a whimper. I catch the back of her head to hold her in place, deepen the kiss. We slow dance as we kiss, rocking from foot to foot, slowly circling each other as we come apart and go back in, each time a different tempo. Soft and meaningful, then intense with passion, then a slow savoring.
“I love you.” She says it first, and it feels like my life both ends and begins at once. Like if I dived from this building, I could fly.
“I love you, little warrior.”
She lifts those ice-blue eyes, and they crinkle at the corners.
“How was your nephew?”
She smiles and nods. “He’s good. All grown up. He seems happy with Vlad and Alessia. Really happy. It’s a much better life than Anya could have given him. I can’t forgive her for abandoning him, but maybe it worked out for the best.”
“Like us,” I say softly.
“Yes.” She wraps her arms around my middle. Like us.” Then she propels me toward the door. “Come on. You don’t have a jacket, and it’s cold out here.”
“Yes. And Ravil is waiting for us.”
Kira
Maykl hates the idea of me being bait, but I can take care of myself. I have a gun strapped to my leg. According to Dima, the Chicago Bratva’s hacker, Stepanov has not left the country. His phone seems to have been destroyed, though. I called the office line at work and left him a message, saying I needed help getting home because my passport and things were still at the Kremlin.
Stepanov called back and asked where I was. I told him I was staying at the flophouse where my sister’s body had been found.
It seemed like something he might believe, and I sort of enjoyed the full circle of returning to the place where it all began in Chicago.
I wait now on the broken steps to the graffitied house.
A black town car pulls up. The doors don’t open. No one gets out. Which means the bratva members hiding in the building to shoot, won’t be able to.
I get up and walk to it, pulling open the door.
I sense Maykl’s silent protest from behind the boarded-up windows of the flophouse. The Chicago bratva are waiting there, hoping to make clean kills here in a neighborhood where no one talks about criminal activities.
It’s all right, though. I’m strapped with a weapon, wired for audio, and have a half-dozen trackers on me. I know Maykl and his brothers will be right behind us.
I climb into the backseat of the car, which takes off driving before I’ve even shut the door. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
Stepanov is in the backseat. He pats me down for a weapon but misses the gun in my boot.
“I slept here last night. I ran after you left last night.” I make my face sullen and stubborn. “I’m not going back.”
“No? What of your lover? You won’t forgive him?”
I’m not much of an actress, but I draw on the genuine anger I felt last night. The shock and betrayal that had rocked me. “Never.”
But I fold my arms across my chest. “You told me I was working with the FBI.”
“A little lie to ensure your cooperation,” Stepanov says. “But I do have contacts there, and they are working on finding your nephew.”
Another lie, I’m sure.
“But we are leaving the country right now. If you wish to come with us, this is your only chance.”
“But I told you, I don’t have a passport.”
“You don’t need one. We travel on private aircraft.”
I pretend to relax. “Good.” Hopefully, Maykl heard that and knows where to go. I’m not sure I actually believe I will end up on that plane alive. Even if Stepanov’s intentions are good, I don’t plan on going back to Russia with them.
I sweat through the remainder of the drive. No one makes conversation, which makes it even more tense.
Seventy minutes later we reach a private airstrip where crates are being loaded onto a plane.
Stepanov gets out without a word. I follow him.
A large man with an oversized forehead stands in front of the plane, and I draw in a surprised breath. “Leonid Kuznetsov.” I say it out loud, so the Chicago bratva will hear. I recognize the head of the largest branch of the Moscow bratva.
He glares at me. “Why is she here?”
“She cannot forgive her lover for what he’s done. She’s coming back to Russia with us.” Stepanov puts a meaty hand on my nape and when his thumb slides up and down, my stomach turns. I remember how he made a play for me in the past.
I imagine he expects me to play nice with him now. Disgusting pig.
“She’s your responsibility,” Kuznets says.
“Of course.” Stepanov maneuvers me toward the plane’s entrance.
I start to panic. What if the guys don’t get here in time? Do I just cut my losses and run? I have a weapon, but there’s no way I can take down four men by myself. Besides, I’m not the one with a vendetta. I don’t need these men dead.
I just needed to do this for Maykl. To prove my loyalty and clear my name with his brotherhood. So, I can be accepted into their circle.
“I have to use the restroom,” I say, trying to avoid getting on the plane.
“Use the one in there.” Stepanov jerks his thumb toward the cabin.
Blyad’.
I climb the steps to get on the plane and find the tiny bathroom where I lock myself inside to formulate a plan.
Maykl
“Where’s their location?” I shout, taking a turn at fifty miles an hour. “I lost the signal.” I’m in my Ford Bronco with Adrian and Dima. Two other vehicles loaded with Chicago bratva soldiers hurtle behind us.
I’m doing my best to stay calm. To keep my head in the game. Because I have to find my girl before something terrible happens to her. I don’t trust Stepanov not to kill her the moment he’s in a place he can dispose a body. And out here in this sparsely populated industrial area, it would be very easy to dig a grave or bury someone in concrete.
“They must have a signal jammer,” Dima grumbles, swiping across his iPad. “I’ve got nothing. I lost all GPS information.”
Adrian points across me. “I see a runway. Must be a private airstrip over there.”
I slam on the brakes, causing Oleg to swerve to the right behind me to avoid a collision.
Spinning the steering wheel, I adjust my direction and peel out to the left, in the direction Adrian pointed, then I step on the gas. I get the Ford Bronco up to 90 mph, only slowing when Adrian points to the right.
I swing around a curve, and we zoom in to an industrial warehouse area where there’s a hangar. A small plane stands on a runway. Around it men move quickly, packing crates into the cargo area.
When one of them draws a gun and fires at us, I know we found the right place. I throw the car into park as all three of us duck our heads to avoid being shot. We tumble out the doors crouched, guns drawn. I fire around my door and take out two men.
The other two vehicles slam into formation around us, forming a barricade of sorts. The cars are all bulletproof.
Gunfire rains from both sides. Bodies drop. None from our side.
I’m scanning the area for Kira, terrified she’ll get caught in the fire. Of course, she knows how to handle herself. She would know to stay down. Or, use her own weapon, if it wasn’t taken from her.
I don’t wait for the gunfire to stop. I run, away from the safety of the vehicles, toward the airplane. I’m praying the whole time I will find Kira inside. Alive. Gospodi, please let her be alive.
“Kuznets is mine,” I hear Ravil growl. He must have sighted him.
I still don’t see Kira anywhere. I dash behind a crate to crouch, then run for the stairs to the airplane just as a shot is fired inside.
Fuck, no. Kira!
But, of course, my little warrior is not playing the victim. Her gun is held expertly in both hands, arms straight out, a look of determination blazing in those sky-blue eyes. At her feet lies Stepanov, a neat bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
“Kira!” I hold out my hand to help her step over her boss’ body.
“Are they”
I stop to listen. There’s no gunfire. In my comms, Ravil is barking orders like we’ve won the battle.
“It’s over,” I confirm, pulling her roughly into my arms.
Thank fuck she’s all right. Unharmed. Back where she’s supposed to be: with me.
There will be much to do. Adrian has his job as cleaner cut out for him for the second time in two days. But I need to get Kira out of here.
“Permission to take Kira back?” I ask into the comms.
“Granted. Is she all right?” Ravil asks.
“She’s safe. She killed Stepanov,” I tell him, so he never questions her loyalty again.
“Good. Take care of your woman,” Ravil says.
I cup the side of Kira’s face and stroke my thumb over her soft skin. “I intend to.”
She rises to her tiptoes to press a firm victory kiss against my lips.
I remove the comms unit from my ear and turn it off. “Come on, my beautiful Valkyrie. I need to get you out of here. I nearly died thinking of the things they might do to you.” I take her hand and hurry her off the plane and into my Bronco still running on the tarmac.
I climb in beside her. The moment we’re alone together, I’m satisfied.
Kira looks over and laughs.
I smile back. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Just…lightness. For the first time in my life, I have this feeling that everything is all right.”
A sense of victory pumps through me, knowing that I’m a part of that lightness.
“Mika’s safe and happy. My sister is…well, she’s gone to rest, if you believe that’s how death works. And the Chicago bratva have won their battle.”
“Is that all?” I arch a brow.
Her smile widens. “No, that’s not all. There’s you.”
“What about me?” I prompt.
“You’re mine.”
I pull away, desperate to get her home and underneath me. “So, you’re keeping me?”
“Well, technically, I was hoping you’d keep me. You see, I don’t have a job here or anything.”
I let out a soft chuckle of satisfaction. She’s staying. With me.
She’s mine to keep.
“Valkiriya, I’m never letting you go.” I reach out to catch her hand and hold it. “From the first moment I got you in my apartment, I was figuring out a way to keep you there forever.”
“You won’t even have to use duct tape or zip ties anymore.”
“I may not have to, but I probably still will.”
“Promise?”