Page 41 of Deception

“Asshole,” I bark down at the photo on the table.

Grabbing it, I pull out my cigarettes and lighter as I head out to the balcony. Lighting up my smoke, I go back to studying the image. The longer I stare at it, the angrier I become. I’m ready to throw down for a girl I don’t like. Who I have no feelings for. And that is a big problem considering the only people I have ever been willing to go out on a limb for are my family or Niko and Emin—who are practically family. Not her though. Red has a way of making me break all my rules.

Holding up the photo, I press the lit end of my cigarette to the asshole’s face, enjoying the sight of it turning to ash.

“Tomasz,” Anton calls from behind me, breaking me out of my murderous thoughts.

They’re totally unreasonable, and I’m more than aware that I shouldn’t be thinking them, but beyond my frustration at her hurt, there’s an inexplicable anger inside me over her departing comment.

I’ve always been a ghost.

I wish that were true—that she was as invisible to me as she thinks she is to the world.

Scrunching the paper in my hand, I take another drag of my cigarette as I turn to face Anton. I pause when I see the maid beside him. He knows me well enough to explain himself without my asking.

“She’s in that room,” he tells the maid, pointing to Red’s bedroom. When the woman has disappeared out of sight, he tells me, “The girl needs someone to keep her together. We can’t have her out in the open the way she is.”

“Out in the open?”

“What you did this morning was risky. We don’t know that the English aren’t clued in to the traitor’s moves. Having the girl out in public like this…”

“And the maid fixes the problem, how?” I snap at him.

Anton is right—this morning was risky. But if my father was so worried about the risk, he should never have gone near her. I shouldn’t have gone near her.

“The headscarf won’t work for long. The girl needs a real disguise, and I don’t know about you, but these feminine things aren’t my forte. Elif’s a woman—she worked at the club in Moscow…she’s used to dealing with these…issues.”

“Fine,” I grunt back at him, flicking the cigarette butt into the firepit along with the screwed-up paper before I head back inside.

When I’m almost to my bedroom door, I turn to look at him. “Make sure she’s ready for dinner.”

“Tonight?”

“Is that a problem?”

“After the shitshow this morning? We should be watching our backs from every angle.”

“Did you get rid of the bodies?”

“What do you take me for?” he bites back at me.

I like it when Anton gets annoyed. He used to get that same killer look in his eyes when he accompanied me to the college parties back in Boston. Aside from the fact that it makes his job harder, I think he’s awfully miserable, and anything that isn’t business takes him out of his comfort zone.

“Did you escort the fool back to the plane?”

“Tomasz!”

I don’t care how much I respect him or how many times he’s put his life on the line for mine. No one raises their voice at me. Avoiding a second bloodbath for the day, I take a step back, shoving my fists into the pockets of my slacks to conceal the fact that he’s caught me on edge.

“Call the restaurant and make a reservation. Outside.” Anton opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off, adding, “Make sure your men have every angle covered. Every. Fucking. Angle.”

Shutting the bedroom door behind me, I pull my phone out and call to check on my mom. It’s been a few days since she finished her latest and final round of the intensive chemotherapy. The next two weeks will drag as we wait to see if it’s made any difference. I want to hope that it has, but the ominous feeling in my gut makes it impossible for me to do anything other than prepare for the worst.

“Luchik,” she sighs down the line, the sound of her voice making me smile.

“Mama.”

“When are you coming home?”

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