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Akim walked in on the scene back at the house. He knows Rodion is dead. He knows Sergey escaped. He knows Benjamin is missing. He knows the Albanians are a threat.
He knows almost everything, but I don’t have the energy to fill him in on the rest.
“Did you buy the tickets?” I ask instead.
He drags a hand through his hair. He looks tired. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it all sorted. You’re good to go.”
“Okay.” I nod. “Then you know it will be a while before I’m eating in my own kitchen.”
“I figured, but there wasn’t a return date. Is now really a good time to leave? You didn’t ask, but Kreshnik is—”
“It will be war now that he knows Arber is dead. I know.”
I can only imagine how furious Kreshnik is that his only son has been murdered. Though my imagination can get pretty close—he’s probably as angry as I was to discover my only son has been kidnapped. More than that, as angry as I was to discover the woman I let into my life and trusted is the one responsible.
Without meaning to, I crush my cigarette in my fist. There’s a sizzle of heat against the palm of my hand, a flash of pain, but I just brush off the cigarette debris and light up another one.
Akim leans in, voice low. “How is she?”
He doesn’t have to say her name, and I’m glad he doesn’t. There’s no one else he could be talking about. He knows I went looking for Piper. Now, we’re here.
I know what he’s probably thinking, but what I did was a lot worse than torture. I don’t want him to know what happened in that closet.
“Is she…?”Alive.“Did you…?”Kill her.
Before I can answer, someone approaches.
“Mr. Viktorov?”
I stand up the moment the nurse says my name, and she shrinks back. She scans my face and the cigarette in my hands. Her mouth tightens in disapproval. I guess my reputation precedes me.
“Ms. Quinn is awake now,” she says. “You can go in and see her.”
Without another word to Akim, I leave. I crush the embers of my cigarette beneath my boot on the way out.
6
TIMOFEY
Piper is a lot more than awake when I walk into her hospital room.
She’s packing up.
There isn’t much to pack, but her hospital gown is folded on the table and she’s dressed in her own jeans and t-shirt again. She’s sliding her phone into her back pocket as I enter.
“It looks like you’re trying to run off without me.”
She stiffens and slowly turns. I expect anger in her green eyes, but instead, there’s a wariness I haven’t seen in a long time—since the day we met, actually. It’s almost like she isn’t sure what to do with me.
This is what happens when you shove a woman in a closet and tell her you wish she was dead while you fuck her brains out. Shit gets complicated.
I want to tell her I didn’t mean it. But I dismiss the idea.
“I’m not running. But Iamleaving.”
“Without saying goodbye?”
“Stop it,” Piper snaps. She walks over to the bed and pulls the blankets up, as if the nurses aren’t going to strip the bed and disinfect this entire room before the next patient. “Just stop. Stop acting like that. Stop playing games. You came in here for something—fuck knows you don’t do anything without getting something out of it for yourself—so what is it? What do you want?”
