Page 50 of Disguised as Love

Raisa didn’t seem to notice or be bothered by the heavy silence that settled down in the car. Instead, she directed Ilia over some of her favorite bridges, telling me there were over three hundred of them in St. Petersburg. The web of canals and rivers making up the city was how it had gotten its nickname as the Venice of Russia. Her knowledge and her love of her homeland poured from her, and I wondered for the first time how she’d felt being cut off from it for so long, to have her father tell her she could never come home, but I didn’t dare ask. I didn’t want to burst the bubble she’d surrounded herself in where Petya’s death and the danger she was in were both pushed to the background.

At each bridge, she had Ilia stop so she could get out and take pictures with her phone. Sometimes we were together in the photo, sometimes she was alone, and sometimes they were of just the bridge and the view itself. Angled shots of architecture and the sea that told me Raisa was much more than a scientist. There was art and creativity embedded in her soul as well. She saw things from a perspective different than mine. I saw the black and white?the facts. She seemed to see not only the object but the aura surrounding it. That vision was likely what made her good at what she did, thinking beyond what other scientists saw in simple elements and finding a way to take them beyond their formulas and definitions.

The sun had faded, shimmering down into the twilight, when she received a text from Malik about dinner, and they made plans to eat at a restaurant called The Blue Door. We made two more stops at bridges before we found our way to the restaurant. The owner greeted Raisa personally with kisses to her cheek and condolences for the loss of her father.

Once we were seated, she excused herself to go to the restroom so no one would see the emotions his sympathy had brought back to her. I followed her with my eyes while Ilia followed her with his body. I wanted to strangle the owner for breaking the bubble she’d existed in all day. I wanted her smile back and the soft laugh she’d given me when I’d insisted on going into the museum shop at the Hermitage and buying her a stuffed bear that was one-hundred-percent tourist, reading: From Russia, with love.

When Malik arrived, he slid into the opposite side of the booth with a gaze that seemed less angry than it had been the first few times we’d met but was still wary. It did nothing to remove the ever-present sneer he’d perfected.

“Where’s your friend?” I asked him.

Malik’s eyes darkened. “Yano doesn’t go out in public right now.”

“He’s in hiding? From whom?” I asked, playing along even though I already knew. He was hiding from the U.S. government and the whispers of the Kyodaina that remained scattered across the globe, but mostly, he was hiding from Ito-san.

Malik shot a look around the room. “It’s none of your damn business.”

I shrugged as if I didn’t care. “I can appreciate your loyalty.”

“Can you?” he growled. “From where I’m sitting, you don’t know the meaning of the word. After all, you’re the reason Gennady is no longer with us.”

“Gennady didn’t deserve my loyalty. He was a scared little pig. If the police had ever gotten their hands on him, he would have spilled his guts until they bled,” I spoke casually as if I didn’t give a shit what Malik thought.

He surprised me by snorting out a quick, “You’re right.”

Our eyes traveled in the direction of the restroom, waiting for Raisa to reappear. I could see Ilia standing in the hallway, so I didn’t have to worry, but there was a part of me that wanted to run down the hall, slam the bathroom door open, and make sure she was okay.

“You loyal to her?” Malik suddenly asked, his voice quiet and deadly serious.

I didn’t know what the right answer was as I pulled my gaze back to his. The bratva was known for its male chauvinism. To say I was loyal to a woman seemed to go against everything I’d learned about the Russian mob, and yet, if I denied it, I would somehow make myself more of an enemy to this man than I already was.

“She won’t be harmed under my watch,” was all I finally came up with. It was the simple truth. A truth I felt deep in my core when I shouldn’t have.

“Loyalty is everything to me,” Malik said, twirling his cigarette holder in his hands. “Not that fucking antiquated code that others live by.” I realized he was talking more to himself than me, and for the first time, I wondered if Malik Leskov was missing a few screws. Disregarding the vory code the mafiya had lived by for nearly a century would only put a bigger target on his back.

“Your father wouldn’t have agreed,” I said quietly.

He glanced up, as if just remembering I was there, but didn’t look upset that I’d heard his ramblings. “Change is coming, Woods. The old school has had its time, and soon everyone will know it. What side are you going to be on? The one dying regardless of how much it scratches and snarls to keep its place like communism once did, or the one that will take over?”

It was as if Isamu Yano was talking through Malik Leskov. Yano had wanted the Kyodaina to change as well. Drop their old ways and come into the twentieth century with computer schemes and international hacks. From what I understood of Volkov, he had his hand in both the old ways and the new, but I was pretty damn sure that Yano wasn’t letting Malik in on that little secret. It also meant he and Yano had plans that were coming close to fruition. The missing C4 satchels Ito-san had mentioned had to be the key. It turned my gut thinking about what these two loose cannons might do with that much firepower at their disposal.

“You know what I think?” I asked quietly but didn’t wait for his response. I just continued, “I think everyone in Russia fucking shows their cards as if they expect others to fold just because of the person holding them.”

Malik laughed. It was cold and sarcastic. “God help me, I like you, Woods. I don’t want to, but I do.”

“Your sister said the same thing,” I taunted.

That wiped the smile from his face.

“What did Volkov want with you?” he demanded.

“Excuse me?”

“I saw you at the palace. The little conversation in the hall after Damien stormed off. What did he want?” he growled.

There was no way in hell I was going to tell Malik Leskov about the SD card. If he already knew about it from his father, then he likely had it somewhere safe. If he didn’t know about it, I wasn’t going to hand him more ammunition to use in his drive to the top of the dogpile.

“He wanted to make it clear that Raisa wasn’t mine. Said she was promised to Damien. I didn’t agree.”

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