Page 87 of Little Blue

“I don’t sell people,” I repeat.

“You don’t sell people, but you kill my sons. Hypocrite!”

“I warned you, when you came to me with your first threat, that this war was not one you wanted to fight.” His breaths fall heavy into the line. He’s panting now. Good. Let him pant. “Now, I will end you. I will end your line. I will destroy your business, until there is nothing left of you. Even your soldiers won’t remember your name. When I am done with you, there won’t be enough left of your carcass for even the rats to feed.”

“I will?—”

“You are not the one with the power here, Popov. And unless you want your sweet daughter to befall the same fate as your sons, I suggest you hand yourself over to me. Admit defeat, like a real man.”

“Don’t touch her.”

I smile, because I imagine he’s already trying to contact the girl. I can hear it, the frantic motions—the panic in his weighted breaths. He cares for this girl. “Too late, Popov.”

With that, I end the call, and his scream of rage and fear.

During the call, Misha had risen to pour a glass of vodka, which he shoots straight now. Rocking on his heels, he watches me for a long moment. “Do you think it will work?”

“I don’t know. He’s gone to great lengths to keep her hidden from this world. He could have bartered a marriage for her, allied with someone powerful. She’s a beautiful woman.”

Misha gives a thoughtful nod. He predicts, “The rat will crawl out from his hiding hole. When he does, we will kill him.”

“He will pay for the lives he’s taken. The good men he’s killed,” I agree, standing. “Now, I’m going to join my woman.”

Misha stops me before I hit the door. “How long are we keeping Ruby?”

Setting my eyes on my friend, I chuckle. “Kirill is not too happy with me for dumping her on him. But—” I shrug. “I can’t have her here.”

“Will you release her?”

“When Popov is dead, it will be Kirill’s choice what happens to her. He can keep her, or he can release her.” I smirk. “I wager he’ll keep her indefinitely.”

I expect my little reader to be drooling over the pages of a book when I enter my bedroom. What I don’t expect is to find her sitting on the edge of a bath full of water, her skin flushed red from a long soak, towel tucked tight around her body as she cries into a small container of empty lotion. Lucifer meows desperate meows at her feet, bumping his body into her legs.

Her body shakes. Convulses. She lets out another loud cry. A sharp sob that fires splinters into my soul. The cat stands on his hind legs, front paws on her lap as he peers up into her face with what can only be worry in his yellow eyes.

What happened?

Dropping to my knees, I catch her face between my hands. “Look at me, Irelynn.”

She does, with red rimmed eyes. She’s been sobbing for a while.

“What happened?” I demand. The cat meows.

“It’s g—gone.”

I frown. “What’s gone?”

“My c—cream.”

My gaze drops to the empty container she clutches. Her knuckles are white with the force of her grip. What the fuck?

“Love, I’m confused.”

“It isn’t even Christmas yet!” she wails. Lucifer answers with one of his own. Her distress distresses him. He’s not the only one.

“Irelynn?”

“I always buy myself one of these in November. Every year. I spend money I can’t afford for this cream.” She shakes the container, and I think for a moment she might throw it. But she doesn’t. Instead, she clutches it to her chest. Her eyes are heartbreakingly sad. “It reminds me of my mom.” Her voice has fallen to a whisper. A pained, devastatingly quiet cavern of grief. “It makes me feel close to her at the time of year when it’s hardest not to have her, to have them.” A sob wracks her shoulders. “I’ve never ran out of it so fast, but I’ve been so stressed, and the scent soothes me…”

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