He doesn’t close the door completely, and I can hear them speaking in Russian. I tell John I’ll call him right back, hang up, and quickly swipe to the translation app. I am now very aware of what’s being said inside the office.
I know the cops are partnering with the Feds in an operation to go after Dmitri and his company. The app translates Dmitri telling the man they need to closeranks. The man then asks Dmitri what he wants done with a word that doesn’t translate. The answer is a cold, emotionless, “Kill him.”
I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but I’m now tangled up with this man, a mob boss who won’t let me go. I have to knowwhat I’m getting into, so I can protect myself and this child, who has suddenly become far more important than I could have imagined.
14
CLARA
The weather has turned colder, bringing a hint of winter in the air, along with a constant,graydrizzle that refuses to turn to snow.
After my morning sickness calms, I head out of my apartment with my now-constant companions—ginger ale and saltine crackers—to trudge through the gloomy damp to my favorite café one block over.
Emily’s sister, the OB/GYN, gave me a list of everything I can’t have, which is honestly depressing. If I can’t have a glass of wine at night, I’m at least keeping my caffeine, even if the limit is one cup a day.
I start to feel better once I’m seated at my favorite table against the front windows. The café’s coziness and familiarity are soothing: the soft hum of conversation, occasional laughter, jazz coming from the speakers, and thewhirandwhooshof the espresso machines.
I feel like I can finallytakea deep breath as I sip at my coffee, gazing out at the wet street while I watch cars drive past and people hurry by on the sidewalk, hunched under umbrellas.
I pull out my laptop and begin working on a few things I hadn’t gotten to during the week, thanks to the raid. Halfway through an email, I feel, rather than see, someone approach my table. When the person stops beside me, Ifinally raisemy head.
A manstandsover me. He’s tall,witholive skin,grayeyes under thick eyebrows, and dark hairthat is slightly damp. He looks familiar, but I can’t remember where I’ve seen him before.
“Can I help you?” I ask slowly, removing my earbuds.
“No, but I think I can help you.”
The man’s mouth stretches into a grin that should be charming. But instead, something aboutitputs me instantly on guard.
Before I can say anything else, the man slips into the chair across from me without an invitation.
“Uh, excuse me, but?—”
He waves his hand like he’s erasing my words. “I have a few minutes while they prepare my coffee.”
All I can do is blink at him. It almost feels like someone is playing a prank on me.
“I think you’re mistaking me for someone else. I don’t know you, and I’m not looking for company right now.”
The man winks, and again, I find it disturbing, instead of charming.
“Sometimes, you don’t know what you need until it arrives.”
Is this guy hitting on me?
“Okay, look, I don’t know who you are. I’ve already told you I’m not looking for company, and I don’t want to share my table.”
I look around and see there are other tables open, it’s not like the café is full. He doesn’t need to sit with me.
“You may not know me, but I know you, Clara Benson.”
I freeze at the sound of my name slinking off the man’s tongue, and it takes me a long moment to gather the courage to ask, “Who are you?”
I have a feeling I suddenly understand what this is about. Or rather,whothis is about.
The man sketches a mocking bow like he’s just performed in a play. “Andrey Mikhailov at your service.”
“Natasha’s—”
