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“Piss,” Dima answers, wrinkling his nose. “And shit.”
“Not that,mudak,” I say impatiently. “Sulphur. Do you not smell that? It’s everywhere. Sticking to the walls, under the floorboards…”
I walk around the now-empty warehouse. By the tracks dragged through the dust and that groaning of the structure, I’d guess that it was vacated recently—and in a hurry. “Benedict’s been using this as a storeroom. He and that little shit of a brother of his are bringing out the big guns. Literally.”
Huge windows loom on either side of the large space, but they’ve been boarded up. Only little fingers of light creep in, stretching to touch the dusty expanse of the floor.
I see four dots marked in a square. Footprints. A scrap of rope. “He was scared,” I mutter under my breath. “I think he was keeping the old man here.”
Dima meets my gaze when I glance up. “The fact that he’s keeping Archie alive means something.”
“It could mean any number of things.” I leave it at that, vague as it is. I refuse to give voice to the doubts that are already starting to perforate through my resolve.
“He knows that Archie is your future father-in-law.”
“And for now, that’s the only thing we’re sure he knows,” I fire back. “There’s no point jumping to conclusions before we have all the information. We’re playing poker here, Dima. Neither one of us wants to show our hand.”
“Based on the letter we got—”
“There’s too many unknown variables.” I shake my head. “For now, the plan is simple. We find Archie; we get him back.”
Dima strokes his chin, his eyes wary and watchful. “Have you thought about what it would mean if Benedict took Archie out?” he asks. “It would be simpler.”
I stiffen. Not because he’s wrong—but because I’ve had the exact same thought too many times to count.
I’ve never given a damn about lives lost in the struggle before. That’s just the nature of my business, of my world. But this one sits unpleasantly. The thought of digging a grave for Archie right next to Fiona’s makes my stomach churn nastily.
A few of my men come around through the back entrance. Sergei leads the pack. “We combed through the entire property,pakhan. They didn’t leave anything behind.”
I nod. “Start the engines. We can head back soon.”
I glance up at the misshapen roof as Sergei herds the soldiers back outside towards our two vehicles. Bullet holes puncture the ceiling here and there. As I watch, I see a rat squirm its way through one and out into the night above.
Dima moves to my side, radiating broodiness. His silence is starting to grate at my nerves. “What is it?” I snap.
“If we get the old man back…that might be a problem in its own right.”
“You think I haven’t already thought about that myself?”
Dima clamps his mouth shut, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize he isn’t satisfied. Muttering under his breath, he digs into his pockets and pulls out aniriski. He tosses the wrapper onto the floor and pops the candy into his mouth.
“You still carry those things around with you?” I ask.
“Yeah. Reminds me of home.”
I roll my eyes. “You were born in California.”
“Yes, but the motherland is ingrained deep.”
I couldn’t agree less. For Dima, the home of our ancestors has life. Mysticism. History. For me, it’s a frozen tundra that gave birth to the man who gave birth to me. Of all its sins, that one is by far the worst.
Maybe that’s why I rejected so much of my heritage. Because it was the easiest way to piss off my father.
I exhale sharply. “I know Archie will be a problem. But there’s no point planning ahead when the road is unpredictable.”
“In other words, you’re procrastinating,” Dima says, swirling the toffee in his mouth. “He’ll have to be dealt with, Ilarion. There are a fewvorswho know.”
“I’ll deal with them,” I say. “My priority right now is T—Celine.”
