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Zoya muttered in Russian. “What are you doing in that godforsaken city?”
“It’s actually very pretty,” Kira said, her gaze straying to the city, spread out beyond the wall of windows. “But to answer your question, I have no idea. He’s hardly speaking to me.”
Although he did almost make me come in a public restroom last night…
She fought against the hysterical laughter that threatened to escape her throat. What was the matter with her?
“He hasn’t said anything to you about what happened before you left Chicago?” Zoya asked.
Kira froze. “What happened?”
“Well,” Zoya said, “it’s just a rumor…”
“Zoya,” Kira said sternly. “Tell me.”
Zoya hesitated. She always relished having gossip to share, liked to draw it out. “Faye heard that Musa tried to kill Lyonya.”
Kira put her coffee cup down, the words barely registering in her mind. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know if it’s true,” Zoya said. “It was something Faye heard. You know how these things are.”
“Tell me everything she said,” Kira said. Her mind was clearing, and along with it, a profound fear she didn’t want to analyze.
Zoya sighed, and Kira heard the birds chirping in the background. “Just that Musa ran after he killed your father, and that he shot at Lyonya the day before you left for Prague. That’s why I thought the two might be related.”
Everything made sense now. Kira’s head had been spinning since her return to Chicago, in part because of the way she’d returned. The interlude at the old house had muddied her mind, and she’d only had a few days after that to get used to being back in the penthouse.
Her ongoing conflict with Lyon had been at the forefront of her mind. She’d assumed Musa had been killed, but she hadn’t thought to ask. If he was still out there now that Lyon had been made pakhan, Lyon was in tremendous danger.
“Musa tried to kill Lyon.” Kira set down her plate, her stomach suddenly sour. “That doesn’t make sense. That would be — ”
“Suicide,” Zoya interrupted. “You know how crazy those people are.”
Those peoplebeing the Chechens. Zoya was right. Musa wouldn’t be concerned about saving his own life. He’d be bent on avenging what he would see as the ultimate slight.
“Besides, Musa’s death warrant was signed the moment he killed your father,” Zoya said.
Also true. Kira would have killed him herself if she’d had the presence of mind to plan it. Except she hadn’t, and apparently no one else had either, which could only mean Musa had gone into hiding. It was a loose end Lyon wouldn’t have tolerated if he’d had a choice.
She stood and crossed to the windows, an oil slick of dread seeping through her chest.
“Are you still there?” Zoya asked.
Kira had forgotten she was on the phone. “Yes, I… I have to go, Zoya. I’m sorry. I’ll call when we’re on our way home.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Zoya said. “I know how you get.”
Kira sighed. “Are you calling me stupid?”
“Of course not. Just be careful,” Zoya cautioned.
“I will. Talk soon.”
Kira set the phone down. Musa Shapiev was out there.
And he wanted to kill Lyon.
Had already tried.
