Page 75 of Disguised as Love

“It’s one of the White Nights carnivals. It means there’ll be fireworks in the harbor tonight, and the red ship from that Scarlet Sails banner will make its way down the Neva in celebration of the school year ending,” she said. “I didn’t realize it was actually today.”

As we drove, the streets got even fuller, making it difficult to navigate.

“You’ll need to find somewhere to pull over. The roads by the park and the carnival will be barricaded off,” she said.

I cursed to myself. The fucking safehouse was in the middle of a hot zone. I wondered if the CIA was laughing their asses off at Nolan and me for having given us one right smack dab in the middle of the festivities.

It took more time than I cared to spend finding a place to leave the car, and once we were out and in the midst of the throng, I realized we stood out once more. Everyone was dressed to the hilt with fancy masks and fancy clothes, and we were in beanies and cheap jackets. I watched as a couple stopped on the street, setting their bag down at their feet with their masks and feathered boas sticking out, while they argued about who knew what. As we went by, I casually picked up the bag, holding it close to my chest as we passed them, and then swiftly led Raisa down a side street.

“It’s going to be cold as fuck, but lose the coat and beanie,” I commanded and yanked out one of the velvet-and-gold-trimmed masks. “Put this on.”

Raisa did as she was told. I dropped my coat, shoving my FBI phone into my pocket, glad I’d left the second burner in my room back at the palace. The mask I slid on my face blocked my peripheral vision, and I fought off a wave of panic at the thought of not seeing someone coming at us from the side, but it couldn’t be helped. My eyes skimmed over Raisa. She was still in the stunning black dress from Alexia’s, and between that and her golden hair, she was going to stand out like the princess she was, but like the masks, I wasn’t sure we had a better option.

I let myself wish for a brief second that we were really just here as revelers. That her beautifully crafted mask and sexy dress were by choice. That we could spend the night laughing and dancing and watching the fucking red boat sail down the Neva. Then, I shoved those thoughts behind, took her hand, and led her back into the crowd.

People were laughing and joking. The energy level was high?almost wild. It was as if the car bombs from earlier in the day were completely forgotten, and I wondered what the city officials had said about them in order for everyone to feel safe enough to be out and about en masse.

The street dumped us into a sea of carnival booths and rides. Music and laughter and smells of fried foods filled the air as we weaved our way amongst them. Vendors at the stalls called out to us, trying to get us to play their games, buy their food, or try their wares. My senses were overwhelmed, and it ratcheted up the unease growing inside me. The gun I’d had hidden all day beneath a coat felt heavy at my waistband, and my hand hovered near it, drawing unnecessary attention to it. People glanced toward us and away repeatedly.

A loud pop had me jerking around and pulling Raisa tight up against me, only to realize it was the balloons at a game booth bursting. We had to get out of here. Too many people. Too many things that could go wrong that I’d never see coming.

Relief filled me when I finally spied the street the apartment building for the safehouse was on. I dragged us onto the avenue with the noise of the carnival following us.

Raisa went to take the mask off, and I shook my head. “No. Just in case someone shows up, we can pretend we’re lost,” I said quietly in her ear.

The building I’d been at two days before with Damien and Ilia was not even a block down from the main thoroughfare. I directed us around the back to the rear entrance and punched in the code we’d been given. The hallway was dim. The wall light was flickering off and on instead of shining brightly as it had before, and the hairs on my arms sprang to attention again. At the corner, I slowed, cautiously peering around it.

The door to the safehouse was busted open, wood splinters sticking out and jamming into the Politsiya tape crossed over it. Fuck. Voices traveled down the hall back the way we’d come. I responded by dragging Raisa toward the door at a sprint and ducking under the tape into the apartment. I shoved her behind me against the wall, trying to control my breathing as two men in police uniforms walked past the opening and stopped. One held a phone to his ear and said in Russian, “No movement here. It must have been a resident.”

I could feel Raisa’s heart pounding fiercely against my back, and her hands circled my waist, pulling me toward her as if she was afraid I’d be visible from the doorway. We stood that way for what felt like hours before one of the two men headed off, and the other lit a cigarette. The smoke traveled into the open doorway as he paced.

I timed our movement so he was at the other end of the hall before I slid us, quietly, deeper into the apartment, heading for the room we’d locked Damien up in. Even in the dark, I could see the pile of chains I’d thought were impossible to escape sitting by the chair I’d left him in. He was gone. I didn’t know what that meant. It could have been that the CIA had double-crossed us, or someone else on our side had slipped a tidbit to the Russians. Maybe one of the residents had seen us bring him in and cashed in on a payday. What I did know was that if he was alive and he’d found his way back to Daddy, the Volkovs had even more reasons to want us dead?me, Raisa, and the entire Leskov clan.

Frustration, fear, and anger welled through me that I shoved down in order to keep moving. I opened the closet, slid back the clothes on the rack, and fingered a hidden latch until it opened. The noise sounded loud in the quiet of the apartment, and we both froze, waiting for the man at the door to come bounding in. When no footsteps ran toward us, I pushed the door open, glanced into the darkened space on the other side, and then led Raisa through.

I slid the clothes back into place on the rack and shut the door behind me.

The narrow space revealed a tiny, curled staircase that took us up to the apartment above. We scaled them silently and slowly, still trying to hide the sound of our movements.

The door at the top could only be opened with a code and a thumbprint, and yet I was still cautious as I stuck my head around it?gun first?and took in the studio. The light on the bedside table was turned on. The CIA operative had told me it was on a timer, just like the radio, the heater, and the water in the shower. It made it seem like the apartment was lived in, even when there was no one there, so when people did show up and make noise, the neighbors didn’t grow curious.

Raisa sat on the bed, and I cleared the closet-sized bathroom before turning on my phone and sending the latest in a series of bad texts to Nolan.

ME: Boathouse was a bust. At the safehouse. Rat escaped its cage.

He came back.

NOLAN: Get the hell out. Exfil for two can be arranged by morning.

I looked over at Raisa. She’d removed the cheap sneakers and was sitting with her knees curled up to her chest and her face buried. There was no way she was leaving without knowing what had happened to her mother and brother. She’d stay in Russia even if it meant she’d end up dead. The only way I could make sure that didn’t happen was to remain with her.

ME: No can do. I’ll send an update in the a.m.

NOLAN: You’re making this personal. That isn’t like you. Put your dick away and get your head in the fucking game, man.

Anger filled me even when I knew he was right. But I wouldn’t let him talk about her that way. As if I was just banging her to get my jollies.

ME: Find out where Volkov would take her family. That’s your one fucking job tonight, understood?

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