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Kostya’s heart raced. Not only was he in enemy territory, but the enemy was making him breakfast. He’d heard the fear in her voice that morning, despite the fact that he was sure nothing had happened overnight. Had she discovered his identity? If she knew he was a Sokolov, her fear would be justifiable.
“Scrambled is fine,” Kostya replied loudly. He locked down on the thoughts racing through his mind and focused on what options he had. There weren’t many. He could either see his plan through, kidnapping Maya and using her as bait to lure the Svodnik out of hiding, or he could return home with his tail tucked between his legs and craft an elaborate story for Viktor—who was sure to find out where he’d gone and why. He would expect answers Kostya wasn’t prepared to give. It wasn’t like him to go rogue. In fact, it was his job to rein the others in when they did it. He winced as clarity and regret pushed their way forward. He might just be well and truly screwed.
Kostya let out a slow breath through his nose. He’d only been with Maya for a brief time, but he felt he’d gotten a glimpse into her character. She was cheerful, helpful, and full of life. As far as he could tell, she’d separated herself from the chaos that was the Popov family and attempted to start fresh in another corner of the world.
She’d also saved his life.
Perhaps he couldn’t stop whoever had terrorized her on the phone, but he could do her another kindness—he could leave her alone and forget she existed. Whether she was guilty or innocent, he found he didn’t care. Maya had shown him compassion when he needed it the most. That wasn’t what an enemy did. If she’d wanted him dead, she could have done it while he’d been weak and helpless. One phone call to one of her father’s contacts and his family would have been left wondering where he’d disappeared to—or worse, collecting the pieces of him sent via messenger.
After breakfast was over and he’d seen her safely to work, he would abandon his mission and return to Boston. It had been wrong to act on his own, anyway. Viktor would make sure justice would come to Anatoly Popov, and Kostya would be by his side when he wrought it. Maya would be spared.Kostyawould be the one to make sure of that.
CHAPTER9
Kostya
Kostya made his way to Savile Row, carefully dodging pedestrians and keeping an eye out for a tail. When he was a teen, his father had brought him and Viktor here to fit them for their first bespoke suits. Niko had only been ten at the time, so he’d stayed behind with their mother, while Boris took the older boys. The limo had pulled up outside one of the Georgian buildings and they’d been escorted into one of the shops where they were measured and tutted at by a small army of assistants. Then they were swept into a different room where they were given icy glasses of vodka while their father discussed fabric and colors with the tailor. Once Boris had narrowed down his choices, the brothers were told to make the final decision. Kostya had really liked the dark gray fabric, but before he could say anything, Viktor spoke first, saying that they would both go with one of the blacks. He had wanted to disagree, but his brother was pressing against his foot in warning, so Kostya had wisely agreed. Their father’s smile told him everything he needed to know—and he learned to follow his brother’s lead.
Over the years, Kostya had had suits made in both Boston and Italy, but he always found his way back to Savile Row. Viktor also preferred to shop here, while their youngest brother, Niko, had developed his own style and frequented a couple of tailors in Napoli. Admittedly, if there was ever a contest among the brothers for best dressed, Niko would win, hands down, and deservedly so.
Ringing the bell at the shop’s entrance, he cast glances through the reflections in the windows to make sure no one was watching him. The tailor would be highly displeased if he had to deal with a shoot-out in front of his shop. That was why Kostya usually made his appointments in advance, to ensure there wouldn’t be any conflicts. But today, he’d just have to hope they could squeeze him in.
The door opened and he was allowed inside by an older man impeccably dressed in a fabric that reminded him of the gray one he’d admired all those years ago. It really did look good.
“Good morning, Mr. Sokolov, and welcome. If you would be so kind as to come with me?” the man asked him as he turned to walk down the hall. When the older man passed through the metal detector, the machine set off a series of beeps, but remained silent as Kostya walked through. Looking at him, the man raised an eyebrow but said nothing to betray his surprise to find that Kostya wasn’t armed.
Moving to the back of the store, the man placed his hand on a biometric pad. Kostya could hear the door unlock before it slid into the wall. Inside, the same tailor he’d first met all those years ago waited for him. Malcolm Oswald was one of the best tailors in the world, but a quick search for his name online would produce limited information. The man worked almost exclusively with those who preferred to keep their lives out of social media.
“Good morning, Mr. Sokolov,” Malcolm told him, stepping forward. His nose wrinkled as he looked him over. “It seems that you’ve come to me at the right time. Will you be needing a new wardrobe?”
Kostya chuckled at the man’s tangible distaste over what he was currently wearing. “Perhaps another time. However, I would appreciate your assistance. As you can see, I’m in need of something more appropriate to wear during my short stay here in London.”
“Of course, sir.” Malcolm stepped forward and snapped his fingers for someone to help Kostya get undressed. “If I may be so bold, you appear to be traveling light. Will you be requiring other things toassistwith your stay here?”
The man never missed a trick. “Yes,” Kostya admitted. “It seems that I’ve lost my wallet, so I will be requiring a new passport and sufficient funds to assist me during my stay here. And I would like to see your selection of conceal carry,” he added as an afterthought. He’d left Boston without any weapons, but given that he’d already been jumped once, he needed to take additional precautions.
“Yes, sir. We’ll take care of it for you. Todd.” Malcolm snapped his fingers again and the man who’d escorted him inside stepped forward, pulled out a small camera, and took his headshot.
Under other circumstances, Kostya would have enjoyed his morning but the more time he spent in the shop, the more he found himself getting agitated. He’d taken a risk coming here. While the funds being used for this would come out of his own private bank accounts, he knew that once Viktor figured out he was missing, it would be easy enough for Niko to track his spending. Their youngest brother was a CPA and managed all the books for the bratva’s various businesses. He seemed to thrive on spreadsheets and chasing down money trails and had become good at forensic accounting.
Three hours later, dressed in a more comfortable pair of slacks, a dress shirt, and a sport coat, Kostya was pocketing a Mossberg in the built-in holster in his jacket and accepting the new passport and cash Todd handed him. It had cost him a small fortune to get everything he needed, but it was worth it. The handgun was untraceable and the passport would get him on an international flight without any trouble at all.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Sokolov?” Todd asked him as he led him back to the entrance. Walking back through the metal detectors, suitably attired, the quiet beeps gave Kostya a feeling of security. He was ready for whatever he needed to do to see his plan through to completion. The Svodnik would be stopped.
CHAPTER10
Maya
Maya couldn’t concentrate this morning. Her mind kept returning to Kostya. They’d eaten breakfast in relative silence with the exception of the music she’d turned on out of nervousness. She had known that she wouldn’t be able to handle the quiet, and she’d been worried she would start rambling and possibly say too much. The music had ended up being a buffer for her but she still found herself jumpy and kept clattering the dishes. It had gotten so bad that as soon as the meal was over, she’d left the dishes soaking in the sink rather than washing up before leaving.
The walk to her office had been equally as quiet. Rather than try to fill the air with aimless conversation, Maya had been deep in thought until a car horn startled her. If Kostya hadn’t been there, she might well be in the hospital now. Thankfully, he had been quick to react and had pulled her back onto the sidewalk. He’d held onto her a bit longer than necessary and it was all she’d been able to do to keep from tucking herself against his body. Enemies or not, the man was sex on a stick, to quote something her sister might say.
Maya snorted at the direction her thoughts had gone. Was it normal to have lusty thoughts about her enemy?Washe her enemy? He was definitely her father’s enemy. Of that, she was certain.
Throughout the morning, she kept glancing through her office window into the lobby of New Beginnings. Every time the door opened, she expected to see Kostya standing there, having returned in order to collect her and take her as his hostage. After her father’s call the night before, his arrival into her life seemed too coincidental to be anything but a setup. Worry had muddied her mind all day, and she couldn’t stay focused on her paperwork. There were deadlines she had to meet, but none of them were as important as understanding what kind of nightmare she was being dragged into.
She’d left the United States to get away from messes like these. How was it that she’d been dragged back into the middle of the chaos?
By the time Maya was hungry enough to eat lunch, she’d given up on getting much work done. After everything that had happened, her mind was too scattered to do much good in the office. What she needed was some comfort, and she planned to find it in the little imports shop down the street. Thestolichnyethey carried there never failed to lift her mood.
