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“Thank you, Lyoshenka.”
I’m prepared to end the call, but before I do, he holds up his hand. “There is something else. I considered waiting until you were home to inform you, but given the information you just provided, I feel it best to inform you now.”
“What is it?”
He pauses, his eyes pinching with uncharacteristic emotion. Alexei rarely shows his emotions in such a way, and it gives me pause.
“Lyoshenka?”
“One of the names on your hard drive,” he says solemnly. “Roger Benson. He was a neighbor in your mother’s apartment building. Did you realize that?”
“No.” I rub at my temples. “I didn’t.”
“I thought it seemed out of place myself,” Alexei adds. “He was not a cop or a politician or anyone of importance, yet he was on the list. Oddly enough, he was killed exactly one week after your mother’s death.”
Ice fills my lungs as I consider the implication. “Did he see something?”
“Officially, no,” Alexei answers. “But unofficially, he filed a police report with an Officer Stanton, who, in case you hadn’t noticed, was another name on that drive. Stanton was also killed within the week, and whatever the report may have contained, it disappeared.”
He doesn’t have to say anything else. The implications of his statement weigh heavy on my soul. That hard drive was stolen from Vasily. A drive he’s been more insistent about than anything else he’s ever asked of me because it could ruin him. Words straight from his own mouth. It doesn’t take a logician to connect the dots, but I don’t want to accept what I have always suspected deep down.
“I’m still digging,” Alexei tells me.
“I need something concrete…” I choke out. “I need to see the proof with my own eyes.”
He nods as if to say he understands, but his words contradict that. “I will do my best. But sometimes, I think you know, the truth is best found in our guts.”
19
Kat
It takes me a full minute to register that the sun is creeping brightly around the curtains of my bedroom, and I’m still in bed. I blink my eyes several times, rolling to my side and away from the sunlight that woke me. I hug the pillow as my mind works, as I register the distinctly masculine scent on the bed.
I bolt upright the moment I remember.
Lev.
He crept into my bed late. I woke up for all of a second when he did, but I remember him gathering me into his arms and then nothing else. I slept. I slept better than I have in a long time.
The bedroom door is closed, but I hear the sound of the TV. One of Josh’s cartoons is on. I throw the blankets off and hurry out of bed, panic gripping me as that thought is back.
What if he takes Josh? What if he leaves with Josh?
My heart is racing as I reach the door, but when I open it, I hear them. Lev is saying something, and I think he’s trying to keep his voice quiet, but it’s so deep it’s almost a rumble when he whispers.
Josh giggles. Tells him the marshmallows are the best part.
“Hey, you’re taking them all,” Lev says.
“Shh. Don’t tell Mommy.”
I walk into the kitchen. “Don’t tell Mommy what?” I ask as I see Josh standing on his chair arm deep inside the box of cereal, his bowl already stacked with marshmallows and a few pieces of cereal, which probably got there accidentally.
“Busted,” Lev says, and I notice he, too, has a pile of marshmallows in his bowl.
“Mommy!” Josh wraps his arms around my neck when I get to him. I lift him out of his seat. He’s already dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater.
“You’re up early,” I tell him, brushing his hair back with my fingers.
“Lev helped me,” he says.
When I release him, he sits back down and attempts to pick up the carton of milk.
“Let me get that,” Lev says, taking it from Josh’s hands and pouring milk over the bowl of little colorful marshmallows.
Josh picks up his spoon, and we both watch him for a minute as he spoons the cereal and brings it to his mouth, holding his other hand underneath to catch the dripping milk.
I look at Lev’s face, and he’s smiling like he’s in awe. Like he’s the proudest father in the world.
He shifts his gaze up to mine, and I school my features, hardening my expression as I turn to pour myself a cup of the coffee he’s already made.
I become aware then that I’m still in my nightie. I don’t have a clue what my hair looks like, and I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. I know I shouldn’t care, hell, I should be happy if I repel him, but he comes over to me and lays a possessive hand on my hip.
