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“I’m upright. Been better, though.” I didn’t say I was so scared I could hardly breathe, waiting for Evelina’s computer to sound an alert so I could jump into action.
Ivan grunted. “I’d say I was getting the jet ready to come over right away, but some asshole stole it.”
‘Very funny. I don’t need you over here. I mean, thanks for the offer, but there’s nothing you could do. We’ve got it covered.”
He asked how Leo and Evelina were doing and since they’d just butchered me, they weren’t exactly my favorite people, but I still managed to say a few nice things about them. Ivan abruptly changed the subject, swinging back to the warehouse fire.
“We can’t let that just slide, Yuri,” he said.
“I know. I’ll handle it.” When I found her.
“If you want to cut your losses and come home, that’s fine with me,” he said in a much softer voice than I’d ever heard from him. “We’ve rounded up most of Orlov’s men and have it under control here. I can order a hit on Artur and we can just be done with it. You fulfilled your obligation. I can’t ask for more. The whole thing was a bad deal from the start.”
He thought he was being kind, but his words made what was left of my blood boil. “She’s not like her father,” I hissed. “I won’t be another in the line of men who betray her. I’m going to find her and bring her home.”
He chuckled, which soon turned into a hearty laugh. Offended, I asked what the hell he found so funny.
“So you finally fell in love with her,” he said, still chortling.
That was what it came down to, yes. Even after everything she put me through, yes. I loved her.
“Fuck you,” I said, ending the call on his continued laughter. I set my tea down and got up to see if I could light a fire under my cousin’s contacts. I needed to find Kira so I could tell her exactly how I felt, once and for all, no more beating around the bush.
If it wasn’t too late.
Chapter 22 - Kira
I cracked open my eyes in a place so dark I wasn’t sure they weren’t still closed. I was on my side on a hard bench with splinters digging through my sweatshirt. Rolling onto my back was worse, awakening the pounding in my head. My arm brushed against a freezing cement wall and I shivered, realizing the air around was chilled and damp and smelled of moss, like I was outside or worse, underground. The sound of dripping water caught my attention and I spied a tiny shaft of light coming through a window set high in the far wall.
Something skittered under the bench I was on and then squeaked. I sucked in a breath, finally hearing low voices across the room. I slowly curled up in a ball, hoping they hadn’t noticed I was awake, but a moment later, a harsh overhead light snapped on. I squeezed my eyes shut against the blast of pain the sudden brightness caused and when I opened them again, my father stood over me, peering down at me with his requisite look of disgust on his now disfigured face.
Up close, his burns were horrific, and I recoiled from the oozing sores, the blackened and curdled edges of his flesh. The thick bandages around his arms and the way he moved stiffly only gave me the smallest bit of satisfaction that he might be in more pain than I was.
“So you’re awake at last,” he said, shaking his head. “Not dead after all.”
He didn’t sound particularly disappointed, which meant he had further use for me. It should have struck real fear into me, but I got a sudden flash of memory. The last thing I saw before he pistol whipped me in the head and knocked me out. Yuri, lying as still as a stone in a growing pool of blood. Grief ripped through me and I yowled, rearing up off the bench and kicking out at him. Too late, I realized both hands were chained to metal rings screwed into the wall and I jerked back, rolling onto the damp floor.
He yanked me up by my hair and tossed me back onto the bench, his hand whipping across my face hard enough to make my ears ring.
“That’s for Genno,” he said. “He was like a son to me.”
So I’d managed to rid the world of my asshole cousin at least. But his death wasn’t the one that was tearing me up inside. I barely felt the next slap, and the tears that rolled down my cheeks weren’t from any pain my father caused.
He mocked my tears, leaning over and harshly wiping them away before slamming my head back into the wall. Dazed, I slumped over, but he wasn’t finished with me yet.
“Don’t worry, dear daughter. You won’t have to be a widow for long.”
“What are you talking about?” I croaked.
Was Yuri really dead? His cryptic taunt seemed to be confirmation, and I lost control, kicking at him again. He punched me this time, his hand wrapping around the front of my throat before the stars cleared from my vision.
“I’m going to hit you one more time,” he said. “Then we’ll need to let your face heal so you can meet your new husband.” I sucked in a breath, and he gave me the promised slap, almost looking sorry that he hadn’t taken the time to savor it. “It’s not as good of a deal as I got from the Morozovs, and I’ll miss the weather in Miami, but overall it was a mistake to go to America. Things are easier for me here. People understand respect here.” He stepped back, looking me over, his scarred face twisted into a frown. “Ah well, it’s still a good price considering you’re now used goods.”
I kicked him again, really getting in a good shot to his shin. He grabbed my hair and tilted my head painfully back, his hand hovering over my face. Finally unable to withstand his favorite pastime, he let loose with another stinging slap. Leaning down, he hissed in my face.
“Don’t be so troublesome. That’s what ruined things with your last husband. I think this new one will be better able to keep you in line, though.”
He turned and stalked away, muttering a few instructions to the big goon he left to guard me. After my father stormed up the stairs and slammed the heavy door shut, the burly guard sidled over to me. He stood right in front of me, leering down at me, unblinking and with a disconcerting smile on his face. I had to fight to stay seated upright and not curl into a ball on the bench I was chained to.
