Of course, I don’t even know the man’s number! It was programmed in my phone, which went up in flames in the car, along with the burner phone and everything else in my purse.
My mom produces her purse from one of the dresser drawers and hands me a nail file. I pretend to file my nails as I eyeball the contents of the purse. I don’t see a phone but that doesn’t mean it isn’t in there.
“I don’t have a toothbrush,” I muse.
“We can buy all of those things,” my mother says. “Alexei will get one when he’s out. And tomorrow we’ll leave for Russia.”
Russia. That makes my stomach twist into an even tighter knot.
Farther away from Maxim. From my heart.
“Do you have a passport for me?”
“Da. We have everything,” my mother says. “Once we are in Russia, I will hire an attorney to get our money. Then we’ll be free forever, Sasha. You and me.”
You, me and two guys I don’t trust an inch not to off the both of us when we get the money.
Although Viktor does seem to care for my mother.
Alexei turns off the television and stands. “All right. I’ll get the food.” He walks out the door without asking what anyone wants.
Asshole.
Also—duh. Of course he’s an asshole. An asshole who probably wouldn’t hesitate to put a hole in my head if I don’t pretend I’m totally on board.
At first, I thought the worst. That I’d be lucky if I made it out of this hotel room. But the more I think through it, the more I realize that might not be true. I have to remember—they didn’t kill me down there. And they could have. So my mother is running this show. She does have sway over Viktor and Alexei, or else, I’d already be dead.
I remember how Viktor looked at her in my apartment after my father died. He definitely had a thing for her. So while he may be willing to kill me, I don’t think he actually plans to unless I press his hand.
Or at least not until he has my mother’s money. This crazy plan doesn’t work without her. Maybe he really is dreaming of living out the rest of his life on the Canary Islands with my mother at his side.
Alexei returns with styrofoam containers of Italian food—ravioli and linguini. I sit cross-legged on one of the beds and pick at my container of noodles. My mom comes and sits beside me, shoulder to shoulder, like we’re on some kind of family vacation.
As if we ever stayed in a hotel this dumpy in the past.
“Mama,” I murmur. “You should have told me your plan.”
“It was safer this way, darling,” she says.
Safer.
Gospodi. I don’t want to be safe. I want to be with Maxim. And now she’s ruined that.
Even though I’m starving, the food seems to sit like a rock in my belly. After a few bites I just stir the contents around.
I’m about to get up and throw the rest away when the door bursts open.
Maxim
“They’re mine,” I snarl before Pavel slides the keycard we stole from housekeeping through the slot in the door.
I’ve never wanted to spill blood more. They took from me the only thing I’ve ever had worth keeping. The only thing precious to me.
I don’t even know how to grieve her. I just want to obliterate everyone who had anything to do with her death from the planet.
I screwed a silencer on my gun. The moment I kick open the door I find a head to point it at and shoot. Alexie dead. Viktor dead.
“Hold.” Ravil grabs my wrist and swings my arm toward the ceiling when I turn to aim and shoot the next asshole on my list. “Maxim.”
My brain stutters in shock.
There, on the bed, sits my beautiful bride. Very much alive. Sitting beside her mother, eating pasta from a container like I didn’t just have my fucking heart ripped out.
Fuck.
Me.
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
No.
This can’t be.
I shake my head slowly from side to side in disbelief.
She...played me?
Again?
She fucking played me.
Lied and betrayed me again.
This—this burns even worse than her death.
So much worse. Because if she was dead, I would at least have had her memory to nurture. To hold and remember and treasure until the day I died.
But this?
This I definitely won’t come back from. Not with any shred of humanity or trust left in me. I thought women were untrustworthy before, but I will never be able to touch a woman again without tasting the ash of betrayal in my mouth.
“Maxim,” she croaks, slowly lowering the container of pasta.
“Don’t speak to me,” I order, and then I turn and walk out, leaving Ravil to do my job as a fixer and clean up the holy mess I left behind.
Chapter 20
Sasha
Shock made me freeze when Maxim came in. Seeing him so deadly—gunning down Viktor and Alexei with military precision, a bullet right between their eyes—stunned me.
And it demolishes my heart because he’s doing it for me—avenging my supposed death.
I want to run at him and throw myself in his arms… until Ravil stops him from pointing the gun at me, and I see the betrayal on his face. The color drains from it. His eyes go dead. He shakes his head, his gaze on me murderous.
That’s when my heart stops beating altogether.
Not physically, but emotionally.
The man I love—the only man I’ve ever loved—the only man who’s ever loved me now hates me.
He believes I duped him. The shreds of our existence flutter down around my ears, forming a terrible, horrible pattern.
His mother—lying to him about coming back.
Me—telling lies about him to get him banished.
And now this—what must seem like the biggest betrayal of all.
He must believe it was all fake. All a lie. That I played along until I had my chance to steal my fortune away from him. Leaving him heartbroken and alone.
And me sipping Mai Tais on a beach in Spain with my mother.
Neither my mother nor I made a peep during the shooting. No screams. No movement. It’s like we’re the prey animals whose only protection is going perfectly still.
“Maxim.” I finally make my voice work, force my lips to move.
“Don’t speak to me.” He turns and leaves the hotel room, taking my life—my future—everything I ever wanted and more—with him.
Ravil, Pavel and two soldiers I don’t know crowd in the room.
It takes me a few seconds to realize Ravil’s gun is still out, and he’s considering me and my mother. I remember my mom orchestrated Vladimir’s death, and Ravil must know that.
“Ravil,” I croak. “It was them.” I point at the dead men on the floor. Men I can’t find it in me to feel one ounce of sadness for. I don’t believe my mother cares much, either. “My mother and I are the victims here.” Now I’ve become the liar Maxim believes me to be.
“Hvatit vrat!” Ravil barks. Enough with the lies.
I drop the pretense and do the only thing I can think to do to save her life—I beg.
“Please don’t kill her…us… please.”
Ravil seems to make up his mind. He tucks his gun in the waistband of his slacks. “It’s for Maxim to decide.”