We scrutinize each other, both unwilling to share more secrets. I can’t confide we have an informant inside her father’s operation.
“Leave, Lev. That’s what you’re best at.”
She only makes it one step before I press her against the side of a building again. This time, I don’t move away. I hold her captive, close enough that I can feel each shallow rise and fall of her chest.
“I’ll scream,” she warns.
I smile. “That would be very bad for anyone who came to rescue you.”
Carina bucks, her entire body twitching with irritation. But no fear. All that’s visible in her expression is annoyance, and I can’t decide if I should be glad about that. I don’t want her to be afraid of me; I don’t like that she’s not. We would meet up and fuck—that’s it. She shouldn’t trust me to keep her safe.
Yet she seems to believe my threat because she doesn’t shout for help.
“What do you want?” She stops moving, the words weary.
I catalog the purple shadows beneath her eyes. The defeated slump to her shoulders. However she’s hidden in this city, it hasn’t been pleasant.
She’s waiting for my answer, and I don’t have one. Everything pleasant she’s provided in the past—sex, companionship, an escape from my constricted existence—had to end. Any leverage Igor will gain from her isn’t whatIwant.
“Are you staying there?” I glance at the hostel located across the street. I assumed it was her destination, which is why I grabbed her rather than continued following behind.
She hesitates, then nods.
I step away. “Go get your stuff.”
Carina doesn’t move. “I know you’re used to being the boss or whatever, but I don’t take orders from you.”
“I have somewhere safe for you to stay.”
I’ll take her outside the city for the time being. It’s a temporary solution, but an improvement from standing in the street.
“I’m good here.” She crosses her arms.
“Others are looking for you,” I remind her.
Carina’s expression doesn’t change, but her throat does work with a hasty swallow before she says, “They couldn’t pick me out of a lineup, let alone name my favorite composer. I’ll be fine.”
I check my watch. “You have five minutes.”
She studies me, and it’s an unusual instance in which I have no idea what she’s thinking. Carina has always been expressive, appeared the more open between us, and I’m belatedly considering how much of it was an act. I never questioned her intentions before.
Without saying a word, she turns away. She checks both directions again before crossing the street, and then she disappears inside the dilapidated building with a faded sign. I rest one shoulder against the brick, wondering if she’ll run. There’s probably a back exit.
A small part of me hopes she will. I don’t want this responsibility, and I have a four-hour flight home to decide which details to tell Igor about my failure.
This isn’t my business or my problem. I offered my help, and she’s rejecting it.
I check my watch again. One minute left until the deadline I gave her. I suppose I didn’t specify it was a countdown to me leaving. Maybe she’s expecting me to chase, to continue the hunt to track her down.
I tilt my head back, surveying the dark sky. The city lights are too bright to pinpoint any stars, but I imagine them twinkling overhead the way they do when I run before the sun rises or after it sets. My fingers twitch with the urge to pull out a cigarette, but I’ll save that for later tonight. I’m in no rush to return to Serebryanovo. Might as well spend a final night in France.
“Ready.”
My neck jerks right; I’m more startled than I ought to be.
Carina has returned, the dress she was wearing swapped for a pair of shorts and a pink sweatshirt with the Eiffel Tower’s outline printed on the front. A canvas backpack is slung over one shoulder.
Relief and regret war in my chest. I’m careful to mask both with my blank expression as I straighten and start walking, expecting her to follow.
