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I’m in a house. There’s three other doors and stairs. Is Luka here? Did he bring me here? Or was Maxim one of the bad guys too and took us somewhere else for Luka to get killed?
There are voices downstairs. Slowly, I creep down a few steps, listening in. Luka is one of the voices. And he’s not talking in thatI’m going to kill youvoice of his. Relief washes over me, taking away all the tension in my muscles. The throbbing in my head decides to stay though.
I make my way down the stairs, careful not to make too much noise. Just in case danger still lurks in the house.
“Avery.” Luka rounds the staircase at the landing. “I heard your footsteps,” he answers before I can ask how he knew I was there. “Come down.” He puts his hand out for me and I slide mine in it. Once I’m off the stairs, he holds my shoulders and looks me over. “You’re alright?”
“You’re the one that was shot, Luka. I wasn’t hurt at all.” I rub my temples. “But my head hurts like hell. And I’m still really groggy.”
“That’s from the sedative I gave you. Your mind will clear up in an hour or so, and the headache will pass too. But I have aspirin for you to take. It will help.” He gestures down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen. Maxim leans against the counter with one foot hooked over the other while holding a beer.
“Wait.” I shake my head. I really need this fog to lift. “You gave me a sedative?” I remember now. He asked Maxim to give him something, and the next moment there had been a sharp prick to my ass.
“You needed to rest.”
I shove away from him, stumbling on my bare feet and falling into the wall. “You gave me a shot!”
“I was making sure you fell asleep. You were trembling from the mess at the warehouse, and I wanted you to calm down enough to fall asleep,” he explains, grabbing my arm and helping me find my balance.
“You drugged me,” I accuse him as we walk down the hall. “I can’t believe you drugged me!”
“It was for your own good,” he says leading me to the kitchen table and holding out a chair for me.
“Drugging me is good for me?” I look up at him, but the kitchen light behind him is too bright and sends a sharp pain through my temple.
“Getting you here safely was good for you.”
“Where is here?” I look out the bay windows only to see a forest laid out before me. There’s no lawn or other house.
“Upstate,” Maxim tells me while sliding a glass of water toward me. “I’m going to call Gregor and find out the status on the Moscow issue,” he says to Luka, then heads out of the kitchen toward the front of the house.
“Where upstate and what Moscow issue?” Images from the warehouse flash in my mind and I gasp. “And the men at the warehouse. Are they all…”
Luka sits in the chair next to me and pulls my hand away from my mouth, lacing his fingers with mine. “No, but don’t worry about them.”
“Stepan. Why would Stepan betray you like that?” I ask him. “Wasn’t he your friend?”
Luka’s eyes darken and his jaw tenses. He probably doesn’t like remembering that someone so close to him betrayed his trust and nearly got him killed. I’m not too thrilled about it, so I can only imagine how hot his blood turns when he thinks about it.
“He was, yes.” He nods.
“What happened?” I deserve to know after everything I went through yesterday. “And don’t be vague. Tell me what happened.”
His lips pinch tight. “You’re safe here and tomorrow we can go home. That’s all that you need to know.”
I slam my hand on the table. “No. I want to know everything.”
“That’s not going to happen, and if you keep raising your voice, I’ll take you upstairs so we can talk privately.” His eyebrows raise, but I’m in no mood to be threatened.
“That’s not going to work this time, Luka.” I point a finger at him. “You can spank me all you want. You can use your belt, and you can use that damn voice of yours to make me melt. Fine, but I will still want to know the answer. I’m tired of half answers or no answers at all. I’m not ignorant. I know what you do, who you are.”
“Oh?” He leans back and folds his arms over his chest. “And who am I? What do I do?”
“You… you…” Once these words leave my lips, I can never pull them back. “You are Luka Vladimirovich Romanov, and you work for the Romanov family.”
He leans closer. “And?”
“And you don’t have a closet full of weapons because you’re their accountant.” I fold my arms over my chest. Two of us can glare and pout. That’s fine. But I’m not giving in this time.
