Killian and I exchange a look of surprise.
“Bridget quit?” Killian repeats. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“Apparently her new Russian boy toy’s going to support her.” Tom shrugs, slapping his dingy dish rag onto his shoulder. “Some rich fella she’s been seeing. Good riddance, if you ask me. She’s been slipping as of late. Was starting to become more trouble than she was worth.”
My mind goes to Bridget and her sudden designer bags and fancy jewelry and the way she’d snapped at me when I accidentally eavesdropped on her conversation with the guy.
It was none of my business, but now I realize maybe it’s best if Bridget no longer works at the Banshee. I’m pretty sure that guy might be in the Bratva’s back pocket.
It’s only a couple seconds later that the pub door opens and a different Russian walks in. The volume in the room goes down as everybody studies the tall, chiseled ex-Bratva soldier with a patch over one eye.
…this must be who Killian’s meeting up with.
He starts toward us, having spotted Killian among the other patrons. He gives a curt nod and says, “Rourke.”
Killian nods back. “Drink?”
“No,” he answers, his good eye sweeping across the bar area. “I am not staying long. I asked to meet because there is something I must tell you. Something I was not... entirely honest about before.”
Killian’s expression tenses, much of it in his jaw. “I’m listening.”
“When I agreed to help you find the stray girl,” Aleksei says, sparing me a quick glance, “I told you it was because I hated Fedorov. That was true. But it was not the whole truth. Ihad my own reasons for wanting to bring him down. My own motives for getting involved.”
I gasp as it comes to me.
My mind is caught between the past and present as I piece together what I know about the Raguzins and the ex-enforcer that stands before me now.
“It was you,” I say. “You were the soldier. The one who tried to protect Eva. That’s how you lost the eye.”
Aleksei’s large hand curls into a fist on the bar counter, and he gives a single, sharp nod.
“Somebody want to tell me what the hell’s going on?” Killian asks.
“The eye I lost,” the Russian says, tone hard. But the nostalgia in his good eye says something else altogether. “I told you it was to protect a girl. That girl was Eva Prince.”
“Jhene’s sister. You lost your eye because you interfered when Fedorov…” Comprehension dawns on Killian’s face, and his hand lands on the small of my back as if in reassurance.
“That is right,” Aleksei says. “I have been searching for her since the moment I learned she escaped Fedorov. And I will search for her forever if that’s what it takes.”
Killian and I spend the rest of the day turning over Aleksei’s revelation. We sit on the fire escape outside his studio and watch the sunset blaze across the Brooklyn skyline, processing the news we’ve learned.
Because it’s November, it’s chilly out, but the frigid air is a welcome shock to the system, all things considered.
Killian’s arm is wrapped around my shoulders, and he listens to me repeat myself for what must be the twentieth time this evening.
“I still can’t believe it,” I mutter. “All this time, he was looking for her too.”
“Makes sense when you think about it,” Killian replies, his thumb rubbing circles on the ball of my shoulder. “He defied Fedorov for a reason. For someone. Now we know who that was.”
“I heard about the incident at the time. That Fedorov had tried to force Eva to—that a soldier interrupted it and was punished severely. But I was already in the cages. I didn’t know how true it was. I should’ve put two and two together when I saw Aleksei with that eye patch.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind. Why would you jump to him knowing Eva too?”
“But if he’s trying to find her—and I’ve been trying to find her and so has the Bratva—thenwhereis she?” I ask. “Andwhatis it that she took from Fedorov?”
“We’ll find out.” He curls an arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. “If your sister’s out in the city somewhere, we’ll find her.”
“I don’t get why she hasn’t tried to find me.” A frown comes to my face as I release a sigh and stare at the fading light in the sky. “If she escaped months ago, why hasn’t she reached out?”
