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He wanted to grab her by the front of the shirt and pull her down until they were face-to-face so that he could snarl against her lips not to play games with him, but a pain jolted through his head and dampened his anger. He relaxed his shoulders and his neck, then closed his eyes and let his frustration go. Just because she was Russian didn’t mean that she automatically had a connection to any of the crime families, though her heritage probably explained why she hadn’t called an ambulance when she’d discovered him. Russians took care of their own. If he’d been speaking Russian to her while slumped over garbage, bleeding enough that his eye had sealed itself shut, there was a good chance she’d known just from that not to get the authorities involved.
Good girl.
Kostya opened his eyes again, grimacing at the bright light, and took a closer look at her, impressed with her judgment. Apart from her soft features and large eyes, she had full lips and a long, slender neck that led to elegant shoulders. Her hair was kept short, almost boyish in style, and was a pretty chestnut color that suited her pale skin tone. Kostya typically preferred girls who were more traditionally beautiful, but there was something about Maya that appealed to him.
“Here.” She reached over to the side table and grabbed a bottle with small white pills in it. Opening it, she shook some into her hand. When she caught him frowning at her, she smiled. “It’s paracetamol. Like Tylenol. It will help with the head pain.” She held her hand up and he opened his palm to accept the three pills she dropped into it. He gave her one last look, then opened his mouth and tossed them in, swallowing them dry. The woman winced at that and handed him a glass with water in it. He finished off most of the glass before collapsing back on the bed. He took a couple slow breaths, placing his hand on his side. At least he hadn’t broken any ribs, but they would definitely be sore for a while.
“Are you okay?” she asked when he couldn’t hold back the groan.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Kostya frowned. “Yes. Stop pestering me.”
“What’s it going to take for you to give me your name?” she asked.
“Yours.”
“I already gave you my name.”
“Yourfullname,” Kostya clarified.
She sighed and tossed the washcloth in her hand to the side. A tiny splash marked its impact into a basin that Kostya heard, but couldn’t see. “I’m Maya Orlov. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”
Kostya pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Maya was Russian. He’d heard her accent, and although her last name meant nothing to him, it further linked her to their mutual heritage. There was a chance that she already knew who he was, and that she was working for the enemy. Kostya tried to put the pieces together. He now knew he was in London, from what she’d just said. So he must have come here for a reason. Except the only reason he would be here was if the pakhan had sent him to take care of someone—and not in the way Maya was caring for him now. No, he would be here to shed blood, for that was his role in the Sokolov bratva. But no matter how hard he searched his memory, he couldn’t remember why he was here. He recalled leaving the mansion in a foul mood and driving himself to the airport, but after that…
He closed his eyes and let out a withering sigh. Until he remembered what the hell he was doing in London, he needed to make sure he didn’t blow his cover. “I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?” Maya sounded so concerned that Kostya opened his eyes again. He found her bent at the waist, hovering over him. Her gaze was fixed on his head. “You’ve got this big lump on your head, and you were bleeding heavily. Do you think it’s short-term memory loss? Or…I guess that wouldn’t explain you forgetting your name, would it? Names are long-term.”
“I’m not a doctor. I don’t know.”
“If you don’t remember your name, I think we should get you to a doctor. There could be something seriously wrong. Now that you’re awake, where would you like to go?”
“I’m not going to the doctor,” Kostya said stiffly. “I’m not from England, if you can’t tell. I’m not covered by the local universal health care.”
“Bullshit. You—”
Kostya narrowed his eyes as he looked at her, doing his best to get her to shut up and stop arguing. It worked. Maya said nothing more.
“I just don’t want to go to the hospital,” he said. “Can we please leave it at that?” Since when did he start saying please?
“Well, do you have a wallet? A phone? Anything at all we can use to figure out who you are?”
Kostya’s hands darted to his pockets, only to find them empty. His gut twisted in sudden panic. His identification, his money, and his phone were gone.
Shit.
“It’s gone,” he said. “All gone.”
And so, too, had disappeared any chance that he’d get out of this without more complications.
CHAPTER3
Maya
“Okay, so, you’re not sure what your name is, you have no wallet, ID, or cell phone, and you don’t remember anywhere that will take you in.” Maya frowned. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the man on her bed. She still had a few pieces of her ex’s clothing in the closet that she thought might fit him. When she found out that he’d been cheating on her, Maya had been quick to show him the door and change the locks. She’d given him every opportunity to pick up the last of his stuff, but he’d ghosted her. Maya had been meaning to drop everything off at a charity shop for ages, but had never gotten around to it. What had been an annoyance now seemed a lot more like fate.
