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“What do I do, Pchelka? Tell me,” he presses me.
“You’re their assassin!” I shout.
How this man can make me so damn mad so quickly isn’t fair. He can so easily get my emotions worked up to play right into his hands.
“Now, tell me what happened and what’s going to happen next,” I demand.
He leans back, staring at me as though I’ve surprised him.
“Don’t look so shocked, Luka. You came home with blood all over your shirt, your knuckles split open, and you have more guns in that closet of yours than the NYPD. I’m not an idiot.”
“You know what I am, and you aren’t running away.” He says it like he’s contemplating the situation.
“If I did, you’d just come find me.” I shrug.
He drops his hands to his lap. There’s almost something like defeat playing in his eyes. The silence stretches between us, and for the first time since I’ve known Luka, I feel him pulling away, slipping out of my grasp.
“Luka, your shoulder.” I get up from the table and go around it to the injury. He has a button-down shirt on, but it’s unbuttoned enough that I can pull it to the side to see the bandage. “It’s still bleeding.”
He grabs my wrists and gently moves my touch from him. “It will heal.” He gets up from the table and hands me his phone. “We haven’t gotten your phone back yet, but you should call the library.”
It hits me that it’s Monday. “Oh my God. What time is it?”
“I called this morning to explain you were ill and weren’t going to make it in, but you’ll need tomorrow off too.”
I take the phone from him and watch him as he walks to the fridge and grabs a beer and a bottle of water. He places the water on the table for me and drops two aspirin on the table beside it.
“I’ll call them after you tell me what’s happening.”
His eyes latch onto mine, but the warmth is gone. The connection is broken. “Tomorrow morning, we should be good to go back to the city.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
“Yeah, Avery. That’s all.” He points to the aspirin. “Those will help with your headache.” And with that, he walks out of the kitchen, leaving me to stare after him.
What the hell just happened?
* * *
Bacon.
I love the smell of bacon in the morning. I love the taste even more, so I jump out of bed and slip downstairs after a quick finger comb through my hair. Luka never came back to talk to me last night. I assume he’s sleeping in one of the other rooms.
I have no idea why he’s acting so weird or why he would be upset with me, but bacon is definitely the best way to mend the fence. As I round the banister and head toward the kitchen, I hear whistling. Luka’s never done that before. It has to mean he’s in a better mood this morning.
I’m sure his friend’s betrayal really got to him yesterday, and my pestering him for the full truth when he wasn’t ready to give it only made it worse on him.
“Morning.” Maxim grins at me over the frying pan of bacon.
“Hi.” I look around the room. No sign of Luka.
“It’ll be done in a few minutes,” he says. “I have scrambled eggs too.” He points his tongs to the second pan on the stove.
“Great.” I look back down the hallway. “Is Luka still sleeping?”
His jaw tenses when I mention Luka. My stomach twists into a worried knot.
“Did something happen? Did his wound open up? Did he get an infection?” I’m not sure who tended to him when we got here, but if they didn’t use clean instruments, he could be in trouble.
