Page 158 of Vicious Games

I walk toward the plane.

“Fuck,” Lucky mutters behind me. “If Frankie’s going with you, then so am I.”

Kirill’s smile widens.

“Very well. I hope you don’t get airsick,” he says over his shoulder, climbing the stairs carefully with Stella still in his arms. “It’s going to be a long flight.”

When we board the plane, I’m surprised to see another man already there, sitting in the front row like he’s been waiting for us with popcorn.

“Thanks for the help, Kostya,” Kirill mutters sarcastically, barely concealing his annoyance. “Didn’t think to lend a hand when a gun was being aimed at my head?”

“You looked like you had it covered,” Kostya replies, eyes immediately locking onto the body in Kirill’s arms. “Is that her?”

Kirill clutches Stella tighter, hiding her from Kostya’s view. “No.” He then jerks his chin toward me.

Kostya’s eyes follow the gesture and then go wide. “Holy shit!” He bolts up from his seat, gawking at me like I’ve risen from the dead. “She looks just like—”

“I know,” Kirill cuts him off, sharp as a whip. But it’s too late, Kostya is already moving, swaggering toward me like we’re old friends reunited.

“Wow. Never thought this day would come.”

“And who the fuck are you?” Lucky snaps, stepping in front of me like a human shield.

Kostya grins. “I’m that motherfucker’s brother, Konstantin. But you can call me Kostya,” he says, addressing me with a surprisingly soft tone—his jet-black eyes, identical to Kirill’s, gentling in my direction.

My nerves are already shot from the bullets and car crash and abduction, so I blurt the only thing I can manage. “Nice to meet you.”

Lucky swivels to look at me like I’ve completely lost my mind, while both men chuckle.

“Guess the intel was right,” Kostya laughs. “You really are a nun if you’re that polite to your kidnappers.”

I square my shoulders and step out from behind Lucky. “You’re not kidnapping me. I’m here of my own volition. You said you had information about my parents, so let’s hear it.”

“All in good time,plemyannitsa,” Kirill says, using a word in a foreign language I don’t recognize.

Is that Russian?

He’s still holding Stella as though she’s made of glass and the world’s too sharp for her. “Take a seat. Make yourselves comfortable. Kostya, tell the pilot we’re good to go.”

“Where are you taking her?” I ask, pushing past Kostya with Lucky at my side.

“To tend to your friend,” Kirill replies simply, disappearing toward the back of the plane.

“I’m coming too, asshole. She’smysister,” Lucky barks out.

Kirill doesn’t even glance back. “Have it your way.” He flicks a look at Kostya. “Why are you still here?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” Kostya grumbles, reluctantly peeling his eyes off me and heading to the cockpit.

Lucky and I follow Kirill into a private room in the rear of the plane. There’s a plush king-sized bed in the center and an en-suite bathroom to the side, more luxury hotel than aircraft.

Kirill lays Stella down carefully, almost reverently. I watch silently as his fingers linger on her pulse for a second too long, his expression unreadable.

“Stay with her. I’ll be right back,” he says, mostly to me.

And then he’s gone.

I turn to Lucky the moment we’re alone. “What the hell is going on?”

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