“The same cannot be said for your husband.” He paused, like he was finally waiting for me to admit that my allegiance hadn’t changed.
“Is he dead?” I asked, sure that Dolinsky could hear the thundering of my heart, the lie in my voice.
“No. You are not a widow. Yet.”
“When you come home, I want the story.”
“You will have it,” he promised.
We said our goodbyes and I hung up, handing Vlad back his phone. “You look pale,” he commented.
“Igor could’ve been hurt,” I managed, trying to cover all the emotions I was feeling. Flynn was alive, but he was injured. And I wasn’t there for him. I no longer had the luxury of time—I needed to shift my plan into high gear.
“I say we skip hot chocolate and go straight for the vodka,” I stated.
Sasha shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—”
“Vodka.”
Sasha let out a lamenting sigh as he glanced at Vlad.
My voice went cold. “Find me a bottle of vodka so that we can toast our good fortune that Igor is alive.”
Vlad and Sasha exchanged another look and then finally Sasha went to the kitchen. Without waiting for his return, I headed into the living room. After switching on the gas fireplace, I wrapped my arms around myself while I stared into the flames.
“I found the vodka,” Sasha said from behind me.
Nodding, I turned around. “I’m not drinking alone.”
“We can’t drink on duty,” Vlad stated.
“One of you can,” I said. “And I vote for Vlad. Maybe some vodka will do something for your disposition.”
“No,” he stated. “You drink, you drink alone.”
“Fine,” I said, taking the bottle from Sasha’s hands. I took a swig right from the bottle. “How am I doing?”
“If you keep drinking like that, you’ll need to eat. I’ll tell Galina to fix a plate,” Sasha stated before leaving again.
I collapsed onto the carpeted floor and spread out in front of the fire. I let the alcohol mellow me and run through my body. I tried not to think of Flynn. Thinking of Flynn would make me weep and I needed fortitude.
Vlad had settled into a chair across from me, and when I sat up and met his eyes, I saw his dark hunger. “Do you ever feel lonely, Vlad? Or are foot soldiers not allowed to feel?” A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he said nothing as he rested his hands on the arms of the chair.
“I’m lonely. Alone,” I whispered. “And I hate it.”
I took another swig of vodka, careful not to overdo it. I had to come across as a lightweight, not in control, needy. I discreetly covered my mouth, pretending that I’d had too much. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” I put the bottle on the coffee table as Sasha walked back into the room, carrying a plate of smoked salmon and white fish. He set it in front of me.
“Eat,” he commanded.
I did. After I finished, I pushed it away and got to my feet, pretending to stumble. “I’m going to go sleep this off. Please, whatever you do, don’t tell Igor that I got drunk. I don’t think he would like that.” When I got to the doorway, I turned my head ever so slightly, cast a yearning look at Vlad, and then disappeared.
There was a knock on my bedroom door. I set aside the book I was trying to read and called out, “Come in.”
Sasha stood in the doorway. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. I didn’t have that much vodka.”
“I wasn’t referring to the vodka.”
