Lev grabs my arm, gripping it tight as he pulls me toward one of the parked SUVs. Russian is rapidly exchanged around me, the foreign language more reassuring than I ever believed it could be.
I’m pushed, gently but urgently, into the back seat of another car. The door slams, sealing me inside.
The gunfire starts again, but I can’t tell who is firing through the tinted windows.
Enzo wouldn’t have been expecting me to run in this direction. To risk capture by the Russians. In addition to being outnumbered, he’s having to decide whether to risk hitting me or not. I feel badly for my brother, realizing this will be viewed as another blunder on his part, but the price I might have topay is too high. A faint bruise lingers on my left cheekbone—a temporary reminder of what could become a permanent fate.
Doors open and close around me as strange men climb into the car. Lev is driving. I can smell the gunpowder clinging to the clothes, the air-conditioning blasting from the vents circulating the distinctive, metallic scent.
The two other men in the back seat give me appraising glances, but neither addresses me directly. They converse in Russian, falling silent when Lev speaks. Whatever he says has them nodding. One laughs.
I don’t understand what they’re saying, but I recognize their body language. The way they listen when Lev talks and their respectful expressions. He’s in charge here, same as he’s been in every situation I’ve observed him in, and it’s enough to calm me some.
We return to the private terminal where I landed earlier. I wonder if they were already here, waiting and watching, or if they caught up to us. I don’t ask. It doesn’t really matter, and I’m preoccupied with more important questions, like,What happens now?
I didn’t dare consider it before. The odds of Lev coming seemed so low.
Lev stops in front of a plane that appears to be in the process of preparing to take off. The stairs are lowered, and the jet is currently being fueled.
He glances in the rearview mirror, eyes briefly meeting mine before he says something in Russian.
The man next to me nods. He climbs out, and then my door is opened a minute later.
“This way,” he tells me roughly, gesturing toward the stairs.
I want to hesitate. Ask Lev for answers. But if they didn’t kill Enzo and the other men escorting me—and I really hope theydidn’t—they might be pursuing us. I don’t want them to catch up.
So, I follow the man up the stairs and onto the plane without protest. It’s much fancier than the one I was on earlier, the cream-colored upholstery pristine. Dark wood accents gleam like they were recently polished.
I’m brought to the back—a bedroom, complete with its own private bathroom. The man shuts the door, leaving me alone. I don’t check to see if it’s locked. I pace, forcing myself to pull in deep inhales and exhaling for just as long.
The door opens again. I spin, expecting Lev.
It’s not him. The man who enters is a younger, less formidable version. Lankier than Lev, but unmistakably a close relative.
His eyes sweep over me. “So, you’re Caruso’s daughter.”
I say nothing.
“No English?” He smirks. “Perfect. I prefer women quiet. At least you’re pretty to look at.”
If he’s trying to goad me, it works.
“I speak English, Maksim.”
My using his name catches him by surprise. He hides it well, but not perfectly; the jump of a muscle along his sharp jawline accompanies the subtle shift as he straightens to his full height, surveying me more closely. I can practically see him thinking, wondering how I know exactly who he is.
I should have been more careful, more strategic, but I’m so sick of men pushing me around like the upper hand is their birthright. It’s supremely satisfying to be the one with the advantage for once.
“Good. You’ll be more fun to play with before we barter you back to your father.”
Maksim looks me over again, slower, and unease trickles down my spine.
I work hard not to show I’m unnerved. Enough is working against me already.
The bedroom door opens again.
Lev is the one who enters this time. He looks serious, but I relax like he flashed a smile my way. This is how I wish I felt around my father and brothers. I knew Lev was dangerous long before I witnessed it firsthand, yet I can’t seem to experience anything except a sense of safety around him.
