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Kostya moved away from the desk to knock on the office door. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to answer. The clothes she’d given him to replace the bloody, dirty clothes he’d shed before his shower were a little too tight, and as his biceps bulged, they strained against the sleeves. He felt Loren’s eyes on his back, but he paid her no attention. Right now, his focus was on Maya. He would make sure that things were right before he parted ways from her forever. It was the only way he could repay the kindness she’d given him.
Maya opened the door. She brushed a tear from her eye. “Nikolai?”
“I saw you through the office window,” Kostya stated, unafraid to be blunt. “What’s going on?”
“It’s just…a phone call.” She shook her head. “That’s all.”
“From who?” he demanded.
Maya pursed her lips and looked down.
“Fromwho?” Kostya asked again. He broadened his stance slightly—not intending to frighten her, but to show her that he could take care of the problem, if she would just let him. If it was a man who was wronging her, Kostya would deal with him, then move on. He needed something to do while he figured out why the hell he was in London, anyway.
Some of his memories were returning—maybe whatever she’d given him for the pain was helping. He now remembered that he’d come here of his own volition, and that his older brother, the pakhan and current head of the Sokolov family, Viktor, hadn’t ordered him to go. Whatever he was doing was unsanctioned, which meant that he couldn’t turn to his brother for help. He was likely in big enough trouble as it was, leaving the country without permission. He wouldn’t let Viktor know that someone had beaten him so badly that he’d lost all of his belongings and forgotten what he was there to do.
“It’s no big deal,” Maya said. She was clearly trying to sound nonchalant, but Kostya saw through her mask. Whoever had left the message had spooked her, and Kostya got the feeling that she had been threatened.
He could deal with threats. He’d spent his adult life perfecting the art of eliminating them. If he needed to, he’d do it for her…but that couldn’t happen unless he knew what was going on in her life.
“Are you taking a cab back to your flat?” Kostya demanded. He wouldn’t waste any more time asking questions she wouldn’t answer.
Maya shook her head. “Money’s a little tight, so I’ll be walking.”
And yet she’d spent it to make sure that he’d arrive in time to take advantage of the bed space at the shelter she’d set up for him. A pang of guilt momentarily took hold of Kostya’s heart. Who was this woman to spend what little money she had on him, a stranger, and not on herself?
“Then I will walk with you.” He turned his attention momentarily back to Loren, who was making no effort to hide the fact that she was eavesdropping. “If I walk Maya home, then come back, will there still be a bed for me?”
“We’re technically not supposed to allow check-ins after a certain time, but yes. But if the big boss comes around, I might not be able to admit you. You’ll have to sleep in the lobby if that happens.”
“You don’t need to walk me home,” Maya insisted, but an undertone of fear still hovered over her words. “I’m okay. It’s a short walk, anyway.”
“I will escort you,” Kostya said, delivering it as a statement of fact. He cracked his knuckles, then stretched his head from side to side, working the kinks out of his neck. His body was sore as hell from losing the fight earlier, and he knew he was in rough shape, but pain had never held him back before. If he needed to, he would fight until his dying breath. Tonight, he would repay the kindness she’d given him and make sure his debt was paid off. “Let’s go.”
He wouldn’t stay any longer than he needed to. A girl like Maya didn’t need to be dragged into his world. The longer he stuck around, the more he put her at risk. But, for the handful of minutes it would take to walk her home, he would stay at her side. He would protect her. And when they parted ways again, she’d be a little safer for it, and he would have peace of mind in knowing that she’d escaped knowing him unharmed.
CHAPTER5
Maya
Maya walked by Nikolai’s side, passing from the orange glow of one streetlight to the next. They walked in silence. Nikolai had shoved his hands into his pockets, and he kept his eyes ahead. He didn’t look to her for directional guidance. Maya wondered if he was reading her body language out of the corner of his eye and anticipating which way they had to go, or if he’d memorized the route on the short cab ride they’d taken earlier. Either way, she wished that he would talk to her. The walk home was harrowing enough thanks to her father’s message, without her wondering why Nikolai had such a stern, foreboding look on his face.
“So…do you remember anything at all?” Maya asked as they turned the corner and started down the road to her flat. “I know you don’t remember your name, but—”
“I remember very little,” Nikolai said. He kept his eyes straight ahead of him. His chin was level with the ground, and his shoulders looked tense, as if he was wound tight and ready to spring at any moment. “I assume that I’ll remember with time.”
“We could still take you to see a doctor.” Maya looked up at him, momentarily thrilled by the few inches of height he had on her, and searched his face for a reaction she didn’t find. “Medical care isn’t as expensive here in London as it is in the United States—I mean, you are from the United States, right? You have a Russian accent, obviously, but your English is definitely American sounding.” She paused, biting her lip, realizing that she might have revealed too much. Having grown up in Boston, she knew her own accent was a goulash—American English from her childhood, British English from the past six years she’d spent in England, and a tinge of the Russian she’d spoken at home growing up that refused to fade, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it.
Giving herself an internal shake, she pushed on. “If you go to the A and E—that’s the emergency department—they should be able to give you some idea of what you’re up against. What if you have a concussion, or another kind of dangerous head injury? You need to make sure those are treated.”
“If I had a concussion, I’d know.”
“Not necessarily.”
“I would know,” Nikolai insisted. His tone wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t friendly, either. “Let’s focus on getting you home. There’s no sense in delaying by sending me to a doctor. You’ve done your part by helping me when I needed it the most…now I’ll help you.”
Maya blinked. “Help me?”
“The phone call,” Nikolai said. He came to a stop in front of her flat. “Whoever was on the phone frightened you. I decided the best course of action was to walk you home. If you want me to deal with whoever was on the phone, I can do that for you, too, but so far you haven’t shared who that was.”
