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“The keys to these handcuffs,” I grumbled.
Her musical laughter rang out, and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling along with the infectious sound. “Not on your life,” she said. “Because I value mine.”
Pfft, as if Yuri would ever harm his clearly beloved cousin. “Beef pirozhki, then,” I called after her.
“Good choice,” she called back.
At least I’d get some of my favorites from childhood while I was here, and the thought of the savory buns distracted me from my predicament for a few minutes. A ding brought me out of my daze, and I honed in on Yuri’s phone lying on the coffee table, several feet away. It dinged again. I scooted the chair forward, stretching my cuffed hand as far behind me as I could while straining with my free arm to reach the phone as messages continued to pour in.
I flicked it with the edge of my finger, bringing it close enough to see the most recent message flash on the screen. I saw my father’s name and I froze, my stomach rolling over, no longer the least bit hungry for meat pies. Another message came through and I dragged it closer, trying to swipe the screen so I could read the entire thing and understand what was going on.
Yuri cleared his throat, leaning down to grab the phone off the table. I straightened up before my chair could topple over, briefly distracted by the sight of him. He was still damp from his shower, his hair curling around his ears and dripping onto his bare shoulders. He was wrapped only in a towel, slung low around his lean hips and my eyes roamed down his washboard abs to the enticing bulge under the fluffy pink terry cloth. I dragged my gaze slowly up his hard chest to see him staring at me with storms in his eyes. Shaking his head, he aimed his attention at the messages. I slowly grew fearful as his eyebrows moved closer together and his mouth thinned into a hard line. He finally leaned over me, filling my nostrils with his soapy fresh scent, so close the humidity from his damp body warmed my skin.
“You need to start explaining.” As heated as his body was from the recent shower, his voice was icy.
My heart went just as cold. I rattled my cuffs and pushed away from him. “I’m sick to death of not being in control of anything,” I told him “Not even my own life.” My voice cracked as my father’s screams echoed in my memory. “I hate what I’ve been driven to.”
He reached over to the counter, and pulled back the key, unlocking the handcuffs and setting me free. He rubbed my wrist and then put his hands on my shoulders, crouching down to stare intently into my eyes.
“Now is the time to finally trust me, Kira,” he said. “Tell me what you did.”
Certain that he already knew everything from Ivan’s text messages, I burst into tears. From guilt, from rage, from the deep, deep wish that things were different. “I’m sorry about blowing up the warehouse.” I wiped my eyes and then clenched my hands into fists. “But I’m not sorry for ridding the world of such a monster. I hate what he made me become, but it’s all for the best that he’s gone.”
“Is that how you see me?” he asked. “Like him? Like a monster?”
I fell silent, shaking my head. “I know you’re not like him.”
He leaned back on his heels, hands falling to my knees. “If you want, we can get a divorce when we get back to Miami.” His voice was back to being cold, his eyes hard.
That should have sent my spirits soaring. But I suddenly realized that wasn’t what I wanted anymore, if it ever really was. Now that my father was out of the picture, maybe things could be different with Yuri. Maybe they could be as good as when we were pretending, only real this time. But how? How to explain everything to him? Why I made the choices I made, why I was so consumed. The words to express my jumbled feelings refused to come and I couldn’t make myself simply tell him that I loved him. And if there was ever a chance he might love me back, it was gone now. How could he love me after what I did, all in the name of my freedom? I should have trusted him and if nothing else, those awful screams would stop haunting me. I put my arms around his neck and rested my forehead against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” was the best I could manage.
With a sigh, he shook his head and slipped his arms around my waist, almost reluctantly.
I tipped my face up. “Can we pretend just a little bit longer?”
“Damn it, Kira,” he muttered, his lips finding mine.
I ran my fingers down his bare arms, released for the moment from my torment when he deepened his kiss. Dragging me to my feet, he pulled me close, his hands clasping together behind my back, caging me against him. His tongue nudged between my lips and I opened my mouth to him, holding on tight to his strong shoulders. Everything faded away, as it always did when Yuri’s body was that close to mine.
“Where’s Evelina?” he asked, edging me toward the back hallway.
“She went to get food. I’m sure we don’t have much time.”
“I’ll make it work,” he assured me,
I knew he would. My feet hardly seemed to touch the floor as he guided me around the coffee table, our lips never breaking contact.
With a crash, the door slammed open, hitting the wall behind it and shattering a picture that hung there. Yuri and I jumped apart. He swept me behind him at the same time as he clutched the towel around his hips.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head, and I blinked. Was I back in my nightmares? How was this possible? My father stood in the doorway, brandishing a gun. His face was an oozing mess of blistered flesh, his arms swathed in bandages, and half the hair on his head was grotesquely burned away. I saw him just seconds before the explosion. I aimed those pipe bombs directly at him, threw them with the strength built up from a lifetime of abuse. I heard his screams.
How in hell was he still alive?
“This isn’t real,” I said, shaking with terror.
My father heard me and laughed. “Oh, it’s real. Do you think you can kill me? It’s I who will end your life, you ungrateful sow.”
