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“Dada!” Simon finally manages to say.
The pride I feel cannot be put in words. I’m smiling so wide it almost hurts my jaw. “That’s right, buddy. I’m your Dada.”
Just when I think this is the perfect way to end an otherwise awful day, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I’m tempted to ignore it, but with everything going on, I need to be alert. What if it’s Mikhail with news? I look to see the message is instead from Luka.
Two things
1) I’ve got the footage from the day of the car bomb.
2) I’ve got the footage from your home security cameras.
You’re not going to like either of them.
I sit up straighter, heart suddenly pounding. I type with one hand, Simon braced in the other.
Just send it to me.
My resourceful little brother does so, two video clips popping up. The rate at which they download onto my phone makes me want to put my head through a wall. The internet out here isshit. When they finally load, I press the small play button and watch as the video takes up my screen.
It’s the morning of the car bombing. My car pulls up to the curb, and I can clearly see myself getting out of the vehicle with Boris close on my tail. The footage itself is slightly out of focus, but only around the edges. After I walk away and head into the local shop to place an order of cured meats—a gift I wanted to purchase to bribe one of our potential business partners—I spot something unusual.
Out of the corner of the frame, I see a familiar blonde walking towards the car. Natalya. She keeps low, throwing quick looks over her shoulder as if trying to keep watch. There’s something small and rectangular in her hands. My eyes widen in horror when I see her crouch down and reach beneath my car, placing the package. Thebomb. Natalya quickly gets up, starting away just as I come out of the butcher’s shop.
By all accounts, it’s a perfectly calm, peaceful morning.
And then the bomb goes off.
My car explodes, the violent force sending shards of glass and metal careening dangerously past my head. The blast also throws Natalya to the ground, who was unable to leave the vicinity in time.
My jaw drops. To say I’m shocked is an understatement. I watch the video again and again, hoping my eyes are deceiving me.
With a shaky hand, I click on the next video. This one has audio. It’s taken from one of the many internal cameras I have inside my home for security purposes, and it offers a clear view of the front lobby, facing toward the door.
Stepping into my home is an older man. Early-to-mid-seventies if I had to venture a guess. Well dressed and poised. I’ve got a clear view of his face. White, neat hair and trimmed beard. Ithasto be him. Edvard fucking Levitsky. Natalya is on the ground trying to keep one of my downed guards from bleeding out, a gun pointed directly at her.
“Can you blame me, Natalya?” the man, Edvard, says coldly. “You were taking so long. I was worried about your safety.”
“So you came in here with guns blazing?” she shrieks. “I told you, I was handling it.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes!”
“You’ll have to forgive me then. I’m normally a very patient man, but my plans hinge on your success. I don’t feel like waiting any longer. It’s as the old saying goes: if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”
Somewhere off in the distance, I can hear Simon’s muffled cries.
“Don’t,” she gasps. “Don’t hurt him. Please, I’m begging you.”
“What’s gotten into you, Natalya? You assured me you wanted this man dead.”
I stop listening. Calmly, I turn my phone off and shove it back in my pocket. Simon’s fallen asleep again, so I don’t want to disturb him with my outrage. I keep my anger under lock and key, swallowing it as I rise from my seat.
I bring Simon to his new room and set him down in his crib, pressing a gentle kiss to his little forehead. I make sure his door is shut firmly before I turn, leaning against the wall in a dazed state.
What nightmare did I accidentally walk into?
And how the fuck do I wake myself up?
