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Chapter Three
Kat
He looks just like he did. Just like four years ago...
No—he doesn’t. Not quite. In the glimpses of him I steal on the drive, I catch new shadows, new lines. His black curls are wet with rain, still dripping. He looks older, I realize; and he is. We both are. Four years ago, he was the age I am now. Four years ago, I was just a kid, fresh out of college, with stars in my eyes. I was visiting James in the city, for the holidays. And there was Aleks. The boy I’d been pining after for years. The boy with the faintest Russian accent and shadows in his eyes. The most beautiful boy I’d ever seen.
That was Aleksander then. This is Aleksander now: a man, hardened by the years we’ve spent apart.Man of the mafia. Leader of the bratva.
Gangster.
When I learned what he was, the fear that choked me was palpable. And I’ve never forgotten it. I made myself disappear back into my hometown the minute he walked away from me; I concealed from the world the identity of my son’s father. And though it’s been a struggle, I’ve made a life for myself and Adam. A good life. Asafelife—far from all of this.
Yet, it’s found me all the same.Hefound me. And by the way he’s acting—it’s clearly not something he ever wanted to do.
I know better than to ask any more questions on the long drive to my house. The gravel drive is wet, already flooded in some areas. And a little shame shows on my cheeks at the sight of the farmhouse. I know how it must look to Aleks, who has, since I’ve known him, had more money than I could possibly conceive of.
The farmhouse is three stories, with peeling paint and a half-collapsed wraparound porch. The pens in the yard and fields, most broken down and useless, used to hold horses. There’s an abandoned barn out on the property too, and a chicken coop and a pond for geese; all of which haven’t seen any life or love in years.
It was some of the cheapest property in town when I moved back, fleeing, pregnant, and reeling from what had happened between Aleks and I four years ago. And I wanted something of my own. I told myself I’d spend my spare hours fixing it, building it from the ground up; by the time Adam was ten or so, I thought, he would have a paradise like I never did. Animals and space and freedom. And money, I had hoped. Just a little. Just more than James and I did growing up. Now that seems like a pipe dream more than ever.
And to Aleks, this place must look like the dump it really is. I try not to see it through his eyes, even as he parks, and we get out of the truck.
“Wait,” he says, the command hard and stern. He comes around to my side of the truck, looking at me coldly…as he reaches into his jacket, and pulls out a gun.
Fear rushes through me, making my limbs feel light and watery. “Aleks—”
“Stay right behind me.Rightbehind me, Kat, do you understand?”
I don’t like the way he’s talking to me. I don’t like any of this, at all. but mutely, I nod. And when he turns, I glue myself to him like a shadow, grateful, at least, to have someone here to protect me. Even if he’s treating me like some kind of idiot, or liability.I guess that’s pretty well what I am.And whose fault is that?
Aleks holds his gun aloft, gripped easily in both hands. The porch light is out, and we’re moving through the dark, through the rain, our shoes crunching conspicuously over the gravel.
But he seems to clear the yard and the porch, and by the time we reach the front door, the tension in his face has eased, at least a little. He nods once, and I move past him to let us in.
Luckily, the inside of the house is in a lot better shape than the outside. It might be a bit old, and falling apart; but it’s still home, and once I’m over the threshold, I manage to release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.This night…
“Stay right here,” Aleks commands, then disappears down the hall. I hear him banging open doors, his feet on the stairs. A few moments later, he reappears, his eyes glinting and keen as he slides the pistol back into his jacket. “Clear, for now. And my men just arrived. They’ll check the perimeter and keep a lookout for the night.”
I’m standing in the entryway dripping, bare computing all of this, when he brushes past me toward the kitchen.
“For the night,” I repeat, stupidly, shaking my head and turning to follow. I find Aleks in the kitchen, banging open cabinets as though looking for something. “What about tomorrow? And tomorrow night? And the night after that, and the night after that, and the—”
“It won’t last that long.”
“Whatwon’t last that long?” I demand in exasperation. “Aleks, what the fuck is goingon?”
He finds a bottle of whiskey, cracks the wax, and pours himself a cup. I glare at him. He’s not exactly making himself at home. He looks more like a burglar who’s broken in and needs a break to steel himself for the next move. He downs the whiskey in one drink, and slams the glass back down on the counter, just a little too hard.
“You should have one,” he advises. His eyes are bright, very keen. Something jolts through me when they meet and stay on mine. It’s the first time he’s looked at me like that since he cornered me on the highway. And it hurts.
Almost as much as it feels good.
No. No, no, no. We’re not doing this again.Wecan’tdo this again. Heat blossoms in my face, at the tips of my ears. And…elsewhere. Mouth dry, I grab a glass and pour myself a double. The last thing I want to do is what he tells me to, but what the hell? I’m stressed, terrified, and more…aroused than I’d ever like to admit. What the hell iswrongwith me? I should hate Aleks. Idohate Aleks.
But my body…my body clearly isn’t as wise as my heart.
“You’re shaking.”
