Page 80 of Disguised as Love

When my eyes grew heavy long after the fireworks had silenced, I fought sleep with the notes of Satie. I resigned myself to the fact that his song would be replacing Mendelssohn as my nighttime ritual for the rest of my life. But I wasn’t using the chords tonight to lull me into slumber. I was using them to keep me awake. To help me protect the person in my arms who I’d come to desire more than anything else in my world. More than getting back to my family. More than the job I’d thought would be my entire life.

It was the notes that ended up saving her life and mine.

Because I heard the quiet click of the hidden door.

I heard the person move, not because of their footsteps but because of the soft swish of their clothing as they stepped toward the bed.

And it was my gun that rose first, aimed at a chest dressed all in black.

“Move again and die, asshole,” I said in Russian.

The man’s eyes went wide as they met mine.

Raisa woke, jerking in my arms, but I held her tight. I wanted to roll her behind me, shield her, but I couldn’t remove my gaze from his.

“Drop the gun,” I said.

He let it go, and it hit the mattress.

“Now take five steps back.”

He did as I’d commanded, and I was up and over Raisa in one bound, picking up the second gun and directing both firearms at him.

“Your presence is requested,” the man said calmly, as if it was just an invitation to a party he was delivering. His beady eyes found Raisa’s behind me. “Your presence is requested at the People’s Court.”

“Excuse me?” Raisa asked.

My gut twisted fiercely. The People’s Court was an old relic of the mafiya’s past, where members were held accountable for their actions. Vigilante justice meted out by their own. Violent and instantaneous with no chance for appeal.

“Your brother is to stand trial for his crimes. Your fate, as well as your mother’s, will be decided also. If you do not come, it will be admission of guilt, and you will all be punished accordingly.”

“Stop talking,” I said, cocking one of my two guns, but I heard Raisa’s sharply inhaled breath, and I knew what she was going to say before the words even slipped from her lips.

“Take me to my family,” she said as she moved to stand beside me.

I kept the Colt trained on the man while I used my other arm to push her back again.

“No,” I barked.

“It’s the only way,” she said. “You know it as well as I do.”

She bent and tugged on the sneakers I’d pulled from her feet mere hours ago.

“There are zip ties in the drawer in the kitchen,” I told her. “Go get them and wrap them around his wrists as tight as you can. We’ll use him to find your family and make a plan from there.”

She was unusually compliant, and it did nothing to ease the tension building in my chest. She was humoring me, going along with my wishes all while she planned on giving herself up. Goddamn it, I needed backup.

Once she’d tied his wrists, I shoved my feet in my shoes, and we headed out the door and down the stairs. There was no sign of the police from the night before. I didn’t know who’d given up our hiding spot or if the safehouse had always been compromised, but I knew we’d never be safe in St. Petersburg. Too many people owed Volkov and the rest of the bratva favors. Too many people were loyal to the mafiya who put food on their tables and money in their bank accounts. I wasn’t sure we’d ever be safe, even in the U.S. in Witness Protection with our names hidden behind layers of computer code that could be hacked by the savvy teams of people the Russians hired regularly.

“Where’s your car?” I asked, and the man inclined his head toward a black Range Rover parked near the entrance. “Keys?”

“Right front jacket pocket,” he said without a care in the world, as if he was hog-tied and held at gunpoint on a daily basis.

“Raisa, get the keys. You’ll drive,” I told her.

She pulled them from his pocket and clicked open the locks. I shoved him into the back seat and clambered in next to him, keeping my weapons trained on him.

Raisa adjusted the driver’s seat and the rearview mirror. I caught her eye in it. She was as calm as he was, while I?the trained fucking special agent?was shaking. If it wasn’t so terrifying, it would have been hilarious.

---