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Tears and all.
But when my mom’s fear-filled face flashed across my mind a split second ago, I didn’t need to pretend. I miss her and I need to tell her I’m safe, at least for the foreseeable future. Once I make a break for it, who knows?
Luka fiddles with the television remote and finally pulls out his phone, holding it up in the air.
I clasp my hands together, my eyes widening.
Maybe he’s not such a monster after all.
“See this phone?”
I nod.
“Good, because that’s about as close as you're gonna get to making a call on it.”
My jaw drops and takes a nose dive to the shiny marble floor tile. “You are such an insufferable asshole.”
“Yep.” He settles back against the couch, and I swivel on my heel before stomping back to the safe room. I can’t even bolt for the front door since there’s a whole digital security blanket covering the goddamn place.
I walk into the safe room and bile shoots up the back of my throat when my gaze falls to the bludgeoned intruder and the remains of his head smeared all over the floor and wall. Waves of nausea crash over me. Is this what my life has become? Is this kind of violence going to become commonplace for me as the wife of some Russian gangster?
An open doorway all the way down the hall beckons me, and just as I peek inside the empty space, Luka’s gruff voice makes my ears perk up. I tiptoe back down the hallway toward the living room when I realize his voice isn’t coming from there. I adjust course to the kitchen to catch whatever I can of his one-sided conversation since he isn’t telling me a damn thing, and any information is better than no information.
“The plan can’t change now, Dad. I don’t really care what happened. You picked your successor, so let him deal with it.”
Successor?
He’s talking about Dima.
My spine stiffens.
Am I part of this plan?
“It’s too late to rehash it all.” Luka pauses. “Look, I’m not staying. I have to get out of Miami right after Val’s wedding.” Another pause. “You should have thought long and hard about your pick, then. I went to prison. For five fucking years. And I still did everything you asked. I did my job. Now it’s time for you to do yours.”
Luka clicks to end the call and hurls the phone against a wall.
I jump backward with a gasp before he can spot me eavesdropping, my heart thumping hard.
What in the fresh hell was that all about?
I creep back down the hall to the empty room, trying to fit the jagged puzzle pieces together in my mind.
Prison.
What the hell happened to land him in jail?
And where is Luka going after the wedding?
Something tells me there’s much more at play here than just my father’s bad judgment.
And now I’m caught in the crosshairs of a family schism.
I sink into a chair in front of a large desk and cover my face with my hands to muffle the groan that follows. I separate my fingers and peer out; a large computer monitor and keyboard stare back at me. The sudden urge to hear music grabs hold. I can music-meditate again, but this situation is desperate enough where I really need to immerse myself in the notes. Odds are the computer is password protected. But maybe luck is on my side.
God knows, I deserve some shred of it.
I stab a key on the sleek silver keyboard and the monitor blinks, awakening in full technicolor. With a choked gasp, I recoil and pull my hand away from the keyboard like the keys have instantly morphed into flaming hot coals.
