The air leaves my lungs. Maxim will decide our fate. Whether we live or die. I honestly can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing.
Does he hate me enough to condemn us to death?
Ravil gives orders to the soldiers with him, and they start to move around, staging the bodies. “You two—get your things.” He beckons to us.
We scramble up off the bed. My mother grabs her purse and zips up a small suitcase.
To Pavel, the pakhan says, “Get them out of here and into a different hotel. Sit on them until I contact you.”
Pavel nods wordlessly. He doesn’t look at me when he walks past. “Let’s go.”
We leave the dingy hotel room, and Pavel leads us down the stairwell and out a back door to the alley behind the hotel.
“I didn’t know, Pavel,” I try to tell him as we follow his long strides. “This wasn’t my plan.”
“Save it.” He affects a cold, bored tone.
My heart thuds painfully against my sternum. “I got in my, car and my mom pulled me out, and then it blew. That was the first I knew about this.”
“I don’t give a shit about your story, Sasha. Save your breath.”
Hot tears burn the backs of my eyes. “I need to talk to Maxim.”
That seems to get under his skin. He stops and whirls. “No, you don’t,” he snaps. “You don’t ever need to talk to him again.”
My tears start to fall in earnest.
“You don’t fucking deserve the tears he shed over you.”
My heart squeezes so tight it stops beating for a moment. Maxim cried over me?
Pavel throws open the door to a white Mercedes SUV, and my mom and I climb in the back.
“This wasn’t my plan,” I repeat brokenly as he starts the car.
“Shut your mouth, Sasha,” Pavel says. “Or—” he breaks off and shakes his head.
He probably left the threat unspoken as a fear tactic, but the silliest part of me wants to believe it’s because Maxim loves me. And Pavel can’t threaten me in case we work things out.
I cling to that hope for the drive.
My mother says nothing. Her face is drawn up and pinched, and she squeezes my hand tightly, but doesn’t say a word.
She probably knows how much danger our lives are in.
Pavel takes us to another seedy hotel, and we follow him in. After he books a room with two doubles, he lets us in it, and sits down in the chair.
When he takes out his gun and rests it on his knee I give up on conversation.
In fact, I give up on figuring any part of this out. I pull back the covers to one of the beds, crawl in and squeeze my eyes closed.
If only I could fall asleep and forget it all.
Maxim
I stumble into the penthouse, which appears to be spinning. I thought I waited long enough, drinking straight vodka at the bar on the corner, that everyone would be asleep, but no fucking luck.
It’s like the assholes were waiting up for me.
And the sympathetic vibe makes me want to hurl.
“Fuck off, all of you.” Not sure if I growled it in Russian or English. Maybe Chinese.
I stumble, and Nikolai gets up like he’s going to help me, so I take a swing at him.
And miss.
And somehow end up on my face, my shoulder smacking the couch on my way down.
Oleg hauls me to my feet. At least I think it’s Oleg. No one else could do it so easily.
I blink up at him. “Fuck off,” I slur.
I’m not sure what happens after that. I think I black out.
When I become aware of my surroundings again, light’s pouring through the windows straight into my skull. I try to move and roll off the couch onto the floor.
All the fucking assholes are still in the living room. Or maybe they left and came back, I can’t be sure.
I climb up and sit on the couch. “What do you want?” I grumble at Dima, who gazes at me from his work station.
“I’m sorry about Sasha,” he says.
I want to kill him for saying her name.
I hold up a finger. “Don’t ever say that name to me again.”
Ravil plops down next to me. “Just one more time.”
My head seriously feels like it’s been split in half with a hatchet.
“Pavel is sitting on Sasha and Galina. What do you want to do with them?”
My lip lifts in a snarl at hearing her name again. My stomach lurches. What do I want to do with her? My first thought is to put them both in a tower on a remote island where they can never trick another man.
It could be a luxurious tower. Somehow, despite my pain, I still want her to be comfortable.
And safe.
Because on a remote island, all the sharks who want that money wouldn’t be able to find them.
But that isn’t my problem now. I honored Igor with my promise, and now his daughter is dead.
By her own choice. My obligation to protect her is over.
Why, then, do I still feel the urge?
I scrub a hand over my face. The stubble on my jaw scratches my palm. “Let them go. Tell them to never show themselves again to any of us. The responsibility for their actions is theirs alone. I wash my hands of it.” I meet Ravil’s gaze for the first time. “You should, too.”
He nods. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“I’ll call Pavel. What do you want me to tell Moscow?”
“Tell them… “ I rub my forehead. “Tell them Sasha’s dead.” I shrug. I have to protect her that much. They will probably still hunt down Galina, but this way if Sasha separates from her mother, she might live. “Don’t tell them we know any differently.”
“All right.” Ravil stands. “We cleaned the mess at the hotel.”
I stand, feeling like I weigh a million pounds. “Thanks.”
I stagger into my room. Being in the space I shared with Sasha hits me like a semi-truck. I want to throw everything she owned out the window. Instead, I grit my teeth and pack her shit up—as much as I can fit in the two suitcases she came here with, and then I toss them out of my room.
Nikolai, Dima and Oleg stare at me. “Will one of you bring those to her?” I mutter.
Nikolai’s brows lift. He must still be feeling sorry for me because he stands right up. “Yeah. I’ll bring them now. Clear this shit out of here.”
“Thanks.” I stomp back into my room and get in the shower.
That’s the end of it.
I’m over her now.
I’m over all women.
I will never, ever trust a single word that comes out of a woman’s mouth again.
Chapter 21
Sasha
We’re not at the type of hotel with food service, but Pavel orders delivery of donuts and coffee. I think they’re mostly for himself, but he got a half dozen, and after eating, he tosses the bag onto the bed where my mother and I are still huddled.
He didn’t sleep in the bed. I’m not sure he slept at all, but he doesn’t look tired. He looks exactly the same. Indifferent. Casual. Lethal. So jaded for a man so young.
We spent the morning in silence. I’m too afraid to appeal to him again, like I’m afraid of using up my only chance to fix this.