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I grin mischievously. “I can arrange to have you thrown overboard,Lisichka, if that’s your preference.”
Her face reddens. “I didn’t mean—” She scoffs as she drops to her regular height. “You really are a cocky motherfucker.”
“Complaint noted.”
“Tell me what’s on your mind. I can hear you thinking from all the way over there. Something is bugging you.”
I smirk. “You mean besides you?”
“Pavel!”
I shrug my shoulder nonchalantly. “Bratva problems.”
“Right. What else would it be?” She whips off her shades to glare at me. “And don’t make another jab at me. I’m already grumpy from the heat.”
Without hesitation, I take her waist and lead her to the shaded patio. We lounge in cushioned chairs as my servers bring us fresh lemonade. As soon as we’re settled, she turns to me, taking off her sun hat and releasing her rich brown hair everywhere.
“Do you want my help?” she asks. “With any of it?”
I smile. “I always appreciate your help.”
“All right, spill.”
“I’ve had a group of my brigadiers watching the police that shows up to hits at the galleries. But there’s a problem,” I explain while scratching the armrest of the chair. “The cops are different. It’s like the old ones have been replaced.”
She frowns. “Like on purpose?”
I nod. “It suggests that Cardona knows what we’re doing.”
“That’s not good.” She hums. “What else?”
“I had two men tailing Kiril, but he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.”
Her face goes white for a second. I lean toward her, thinking perhaps she’s gotten a little queasy from the way the yacht is rocking until she coughs and smiles. The color returns to her face.
“Well, that’s…” She huffs while tossing her hat aside. “That’s aggravating.”
“More than aggravating, Liya. It’s alarming. If we don’t have tabs on him, then…”
She looks distant all of a sudden, like something on the river has caught her attention. I try to follow her line of sight, but I don’t see anything.
“Liya?”
She hums and focuses on me, the polite smile back on her lips. “Sorry, I’m here. It’s the boat, you know?”
A look of playful suspicion appears on my face. It makes her squirm.
She’s such a bad liar. “What’s wrong, Liya?”
“I thought, uh…” She bites her lower lip while playing with the hem of her dress. “I thought I was pregnant. But it turns out I’m not.”
“Oh.”
Waves break against the yacht. Geese honk overhead. The distant sound of horns glares through the silence that’s settled over the deck. A faint hum of chatter swells from the kitchen just beyond the door behind us and then fades. Other than that, there’s nothing.
I can’t even hear her breathing.
But her chest rises. Her lower lip shudders. She bites into her thumb, inspiring me to lean over and snatch it from her mouth.
