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I’m not sure if she’s asking because she truly wants to know or just doesn’t know what else to talk about. There’s nothing left to say between us really. Just vestiges of the past.
I start to roll down the sleeves of my shirt. “If you need anything once you land, you can still use the phone I gave you. It’s set up for international service. Call if you need anything at all.”
Lyla clears her throat. “Okay.”
I’m not sure what else to say. Anything I think of seems too insignificant or too monumental. And I’m flying commercially since she and Leo are using my plane. So, I don’t have the flexibility of leaving whenever I want. “All right. I already told Leo.”
I smile at her even though it feels tight and tense, then turn toward the front door.
“Nick.” Lyla has taken the final step. “Or should I call you Nikolaj? I never asked…”
“Nick is fine.”
She and Leo are the only ones who call me Nick, and I like that they do.
“Be careful, okay? Don’t…don’t drop the gun.”
It’s the first time she’s referenced the moment that happened yesterday.
I didn’t think she would.
At all, ever.
“Unless you or Leo is in the room, I’ll never drop a gun.” I pull my gun out of my hip holster. It’s the same one she used yesterday, but I don’t tell her that. I hold out the handle to her, gripping the barrel. “You can bring it with you or leave it. Up to you.”
She cracks a smile as she takes the gun. “What a romantic farewell gift.”
“I want you and Leo safe more than I want anything else in this world. Call that whatever you want.”
I turn and walk away, not waiting to see her reaction. Masha, one of the maids, is waiting by the door with my coat. I shrug it on and then step outside. Roman, Grigoriy, and Viktor are all waiting in the car. I climb in the driver’s seat and set off at a pace that has Viktor and Grigoriy exchanging a loaded look in the backseat. I glimpse it in the rearview mirror and then focus on the road.
“Are we talking about it?” Roman asks.
“Talking about what?”
“Egor mentioned he’s taking Leo and Lyla to the airport later.”
“And?”
“Not talking about it. Got it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Your son is leaving, Nikolaj.”
My fingers tighten around the leather steering wheel. “That was the plan all along.”
“And nothing has changed?”
I don’t answer, and the rest of the drive is silent.
* * *
When we land in Dublin, I have four missed calls from Alex. I call him back immediately, worried about what might have happened in Philadelphia.
Not even bothering with a hello, he says, “You’re letting them leave?”
I exhale, regretting calling him back so hastily. I’m on the friendliest terms with Bianchi that a MorozovPakhanhas ever been on, as evidenced by the fact that I just flew thousands of miles to save the life of a man I’d otherwise torture and execute myself.
