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38
They were only a mile from her father’s house when Kira realized she’d left her phone at the house in Brighton Park. She couldn’t find the strength to care. It didn’t matter. She would phone Lyon from her father’s once she knew what was going on.
“Thank you for driving,” Kira said as Rurik careened onto the long road leading to the Baranov estate. “I’ll cover for you with Lyon.”
“No need,” he said. “The decision was mine. I made it.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, terror surging through her veins. She forced herself to breathe. Her father needed her to be calm and in control.
They reached the house and Kira swore when she realized there was no ambulance. What was taking them so long?
She was out of the car even before it had completely stopped, and she was only dimly aware of Rurik on her heels, following her into the house.
It was frighteningly quiet. That was the first thing she noticed. Her father’s household was never noisy, but at any given time there might be classical music coming from his study, the clanging of pots in the kitchen, the sound of her father on the phone.
This was the kind of quiet that almost made her heart stop. The kind of quiet that made her think of death.
She pushed the thought from her mind and shouted. “Lina?”
“In the study,” Lina called out. “Oh my god… hurry, Kira.”
Kira hurried for the study with Rurik at her back. When she got there, she had a split second to think that everything would be alright. Her father was in his chair behind his desk, just like always.
But a second later she knew it was an illusion. His face was gray, sweat shining on his brow. Even from where she stood by the door to the study, she could hear his labored breathing.
Lina was there, on her knees, holding her hands, panic etched in her eyes.
“Oh thank god…” She proceeded to curse in Russian as Kira crossed the room to her father. “The stubborn goat forbade me calling the ambulance,” Lina said to her. “I’m sorry.”
She moved out of the way so Kira could get close to her father.
He struggled to speak. “You shouldn’t be here,moya zolotaya.”
“And you shouldn’t be so ridiculous.” she said, moving for the phone on his desk. “You’re going to the hospital, and I won’t hear another word about it.”
She reached for the phone, bracing herself for her father’s protestations, but it wasn’t her father that stopped her cold. It was the sound of the front door crashing open, boots entering the foyer.
And then, a voice she recognized, a voice filled with glee. “You cast your lot with the wrong man Viktor Baranov. You and your whore of a daughter. Now it’s time to pay.”
Musa.
* * *
Lyon kept trying Kira all the way back to Brighton Park. By the time they pulled up in front of the small rental house, he thought he might go mad with worry.
He jumped out of the car and ran up the walkway. When he opened the door, he was relieved to see that the TV was still on, the football game over. Then he looked around and realized the living room was empty.
He hurried into the other rooms and found those empty too. When he returned to the living room, Alek was standing there, looking around, an expression of puzzlement on his face. “Nothing’s been disturbed.”
He was right. If someone had taken Kira, it had been a civilized capture, and somehow he didn’t see Kira going quietly — with Musa or anyone.
To say nothing of Rurik.
He scanned the room, ordering his mind to find the answer. A moment later, his gaze came to rest on the small console table by the door: Kira’s bag was gone, but the burner phone was there.
He picked it up and opened it. There were eleven missed calls, all from him. But right before that, there had been another call from a number he recognized, one he’d called often during the days when he’d been negotiating his marriage to Kira with Viktor Baranov.
“We have to get to the Baranov house,” he said to Alek. “Now.”
