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The wonder is not that women are willing to fly in, it’s that they’re not camped out in the woods.
“Why then?” I ask unsteadily. “Why me?”
He cocks his head. “Do you believe in fate, zaychik?”
“Fate? Like God or destiny?”
“Or predestination. All of us being connected, like threads in a tapestry that was woven long before our births.”
I stare at him, bemused. “I don’t know. I’ve never given it much thought.”
His lips curve in a faint smile. “I have. And I think at some point in the weaving of this tapestry, your thread was joined to mine. Our paths were bound to intersect, our meeting date set long before I saw you. Everything that had happened in our lives had brought us to that point, to that place and time… all the good things and the bad.” His voice roughens. “Especially the bad.”
Like my mom’s death. If not for that, I would’ve never been on this road trip, never seen the job listing, never met him. Not that it means this is fated. But Nikolai seems to believe that, and I have to admit that we wouldn’t be here today without the violent upheaval in my life. And, it sounds like, without some upheaval in his.
“What bad things happened to you?” I ask softly. “Or is that the long story you keep promising me?”
His smile takes on a rueful edge. “More or less. Unfortunately, zaychik, you need to go to sleep, and I have to go meet my brother. How about I call you tomorrow around the same time, and we’ll talk some more?”
“Oh, sure. I didn’t mean to hold you up.”
“You didn’t.” That tender look is in his eyes again, making my heart pound in an erratic, joyous rhythm. “If I could, I’d talk to you all day.”
“Me too,” I admit with a shy smile.
His answering smile is dazzling. “Until tomorrow then. Sleep well, zaychik.”
And as he disconnects the call, I push the computer off my lap and do a dance around the room, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.
36
Nikolai
“You’re in a good mood for someone who was almost killed yesterday,” Konstantin says after we place our orders with the waiter, and I realize I’ve been smiling so much even my socially oblivious brother has noticed. And it’s all because of her.
Chloe.
She’s fast becoming my feel-good drug.
I love that she’s beginning to trust me, to accept what’s happening between us. I didn’t want to come on too strongly on our call today, but it was time she knew my intentions—and now she does. More importantly, I got her to admit that she reciprocates my feelings.
Her sweetly murmured “me too” is still playing in my mind on a loop.
“Do you have the report?” I ask, ignoring Konstantin’s comment. It’s none of his business what kind of mood I’m in or why. Besides, there’s nothing like almost dying to make one appreciate life and all of its wonderful possibilities—such as taking Chloe to bed as soon as I get back home.
“Not yet,” Konstantin says, picking up his cup of chamomile tea. “Hopefully, either later today or tomorrow. But we have verified the info the security guard provided, and it all checks out. The operation is a go for tonight.”
“What’s taking so long? Your hackers usually come through within hours.”
He blinks behind the lenses of his glasses. “You’re still talking about the report on the girl?”
I grit my teeth. “What else?”
“My team’s been busy, and it’s not an easy task you’ve assigned them.”
“How so? All I’ve asked is for you to look into her mother’s death and her movements for the past month. How difficult is that? I know she’s been off the grid, but there’s got to be traffic cameras, gas station cam—”
“There seems to be some interference.” He sips his tea. “A few of the security tapes my guys have pulled have been damaged or wiped clean.”
I still. “Wiped clean?”
“A professional job, from the looks of it.” He sets down his cup. “You said she’s just a civilian, right? No affiliation?”
“None that I’m aware of,” I say evenly.
Is it possible?
Could she have fooled me?
Is sweet little Chloe involved with the mob… or worse, the government?
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I ask Konstantin, who, once again oblivious to the bombshell he’s delivered, is calmly spreading sundried tomato pesto on a piece of freshly baked rye bread. “Don’t you think it’s important for me to know?”
He bites into the bread and chews leisurely. “I’m telling you now,” he says after he swallows. “Besides, my guys only realized what’s going on last night. A couple of damaged tapes could be just shit luck. But several—that’s a pattern.”
“So let me get this clear. You’re telling me someone’s erasing all the security tapes where she appears.”
“Not all the tapes.” He reaches for another piece of bread. “My team’s been able to reconstruct her movements for the majority of the past month. Just certain tapes… ones I suspect may hold the answers you’re after.”
