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The delicate line of her throat ripples with a swallow, and she inhales raggedly, backing out of my hold. Her eyes are even darker as they meet mine, her delicate features tightly drawn.
“In that case,” she says unsteadily, “I have two more conditions. If you can meet them, I will marry you at five o’clock today, no drug required.”
Intrigued, I cock my head. “Go on.”
“First, I want you to tell me what exactly happened with your father. And second…” Her voice wavers. “I need you to promise not to kill mine. I want Bransford to pay, but not that way.”
30
Chloe
Nikolai’s jaw turns to stone, volcanic clouds gathering in his eyes. In a dangerously level voice, he says, “I can do the first, but not the second. Bransford is a threat to you for as long as he’s alive.”
“Not if he’s been exposed and people know what he is. I can go public with my DNA results; with that kind of proof, the media will have to listen.”
I don’t know when the idea of this Faustian bargain with Nikolai came to me, at which point I decided that since there’s no way to avoid losing the marriage battle, I will at least surrender on my own terms. These two matters—finding out the truth about Nikolai’s past and getting him to leave Bransford alive—are equally important to me, and I need to use what little leverage I have.
Bransford has to pay for his crimes, but I don’t want his blood on Nikolai’s hands and, by extension, on my conscience.
“The media?” Nikolai’s lips twist. “You do understand what that would entail, don’t you, zaychik? They’ll be on you like a flock of hungry seagulls. Every bit of your life will be dissected, your mother’s death and everything about her past analyzed in nauseating detail. You’ll never have a moment of peace again. And while the scandal will likely tank Bransford’s political career, there’s no guarantee he’ll go to jail for your mother’s rape; the statute of limitations might prevent that.”
“He’s also guilty of ordering her murder.”
“Yes, but good luck proving that with the assassins out of the picture.”
Dammit. He’s right. In my haste to come up with an alternative to killing Bransford, I didn’t consider that last part. I have no idea what Nikolai did with the assassins’ bodies, but either way, dead men can’t testify as to the identity of their employer. Worse yet, pointing the authorities to the assassins’ graves—or even just disclosing the incident in the woods—could create all sorts of problems for Nikolai. The last thing I want is for him to be arrested for protecting me… or to have the media flock all over him, which they’re bound to do if we are married.
With Slava needing to stay hidden from his mother’s family, I can’t go public with my relationship to Bransford. The very idea is a nonstarter.
Still, I’m not ready to give up. “What if it’s not me? I bet there are women besides my mom he’s done this to, other girls he’s assaulted at some point. Men like that tend to have a certain MO, so maybe we can find his other victims and—”
“Find them how?” Nikolai’s tone gentles. “I understand what you’re trying to do, zaychik, believe me, but even if some victims were conveniently lurking in the wings, it could take us months or years to find them and persuade them to come forward. By that point, he might be President of the United States, and taking him down will require infinitely greater effort. In the meantime, he’ll continue hunting you… and also potentially creating other victims. Have you considered that? If he does indeed have a taste for unwilling teenage girls, then every minute he’s alive, he doesn’t only pose a threat to you. By taking him out, I’ll be doing the world a favor.”
Ugh. I turn away, rubbing my forehead. He’s right again, but I can’t accept that assassination is the only answer. There has to be something else we can do. I’d even be down with something shady, like blackmail or—
I spin around. “What if we didn’t need to find them, the victims? What if we created them ourselves?”
Nikolai’s dark eyebrows arch, his gaze lighting with a hint of amusement. “Are you suggesting paying some women to accuse him? Manufacturing false evidence? You don’t find that unethical and wrong?”
“Not when the alternative is killing him. Besides, it’s not like he’s innocent.”
“No,” Nikolai says flatly, all humor gone. “He’s not.”
“So is that a yes?” Stepping closer, I gaze up at him hopefully. “Can we try this, see if it works out?”
He brushes a strand of hair off my face. “No, zaychik. False accusations won’t work.”
“But—”
“If we’re going to create victims, they have to be real… or at least the evidence needs to be.”
