Page 5 of Emerald Vices

Shura’s jaw tightens. “They didn’t have the backing of Slavik Kuznetsov back then.”

Bzz-bzz, goes the fly. I swat it away. “Have you heard from Katya?”

He sighs. “I spoke to her half an hour ago. She’s heard nothing.”

Natalia’s bags are still sitting in the living room. She has literally nothing on her—no ID, no money, no phone. She’s untraceable, a needle in a city-sized haystack.

But at least she can’t go far.

“She’ll come back home, ‘Drey,” he promises in a measured voice. “She doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Just what I want to be: a last resort.

Before I can tell Shura to stick his reassurances where the sun doesn't shine, my phone rings. There’s only one reason I can think of that Katya would contact me instead of Shura. Answering, I turn my back on Shura.

“Did she contact you?” I demand.

Katya’s breathing is heavy on the other line. “Yes. She sounded strange… She wasn’t herself.”

The woman put a hole in my arm less than two hours ago. This is not new information. “Where is she?”

“Francesca’s Pizzeria. She’s expecting me to show up with her phone and purse.”

She’s not so far gone that she’s scrapped her escape plan entirely. Unfortunately for her, I certainly have.

If the past few hours have taught me anything, it’s that I can’t let Natalia out of my sight.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

3

NATALIA

As it turns out, one mozzarella stick is all I need to take the edge off my hunger. Either that or I’m positively stuffed with anxiety.

As soon as I hung up with Katya, I felt nauseous. Will she actually come? Will she bring Shura with her? Or worse: Andrey? Will she help me leave or will she try to convince me to stay?

As the minutes tick by, the restaurant clears out. Apart from me, there’s an old man by the bar and a young couple canoodling at a table by the window. There are a million couples like that in a million restaurants across the world, but I can’t stop watching this one.

It’s easy. It’s normal. It’s human nature to touch and laugh and stare longingly.

And it’ll never be mine.

The pang of seeing what I’ll never have is enough to distract from the nausea, so at least I’ve got that going for me. But I’m so lost in someone else’s life that I barely notice the sleek black Escalade drawing up outside the restaurant until the bell above the door dings.

He’s beautiful as he enters, backlit by daylight and set into harsh relief by the red neon sign hanging on the wall.

Say what you will about Andrey Kuznetsov, but he’s always been easy on the eyes.

Some part of me must have known he’d come for me, because I’m calm. Whatever he’s here to do, I deserve it.

He sees me and pauses. Breathes. Those silver-gray eyes are as cold as the wind outside.

I’m going to kill Katya.

But a second later, as Andrey takes the seat next to me, all thoughts of my soon-to-be-dead best friend vanish. His silver eyes ripple with something—anger? Betrayal? Hurt?

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