Page 108 of Toxic Salvation
“I’m aware of that. I don’t plan on convincing Denis of anything. He’s a lost cause; it’s time to take him out of the equation.”
Osip stares at me with that doofus“spell it out for me”expression on his face. Sometimes, I wonder how someone so brilliant with technology can be so dense about everything else.
“If we do that,” he starts slowly, “Ihor is going to know we’re coming after him next.”
“If he doesn’t already know that, he’s a bigger idiot than either one of us thought. Just dig up his whereabouts for me.”
“The dude is notoriously hard to pin down,” Osip protests. “He’s anti-tech, too, which means we can’t just track him down through his phone or?—”
“Will you stop making excuses and just fucking do what I’m asking you to do?”
It comes out harsher than I intended, but I’m tired of hearing about what we can’t do. I need solutions, not problems.
Osip’s mouth snaps shut. A second later, there’s a barely discernible creak coming from the door of my office.
Osip and I glance around at the same time and catch Vesper standing at the threshold, her hand still on the doorknob. She has that guilty look she gets when she’s been caught eavesdropping—not that I mind. I’ve told her she doesn’t need permission to enter my office.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting,” Osip replies huffily, shoving his laptop into his backpack. “I was just leaving.” He shoots me a dirty glare. “You know, to just ‘go fucking do’ what Kovan’s asking me to do.”
He breezes past Vesper, who steps aside to let him through before sidling into the room. She’s wearing a pale pink blouse that shows off her small bump—our son, growing inside her, safe and protected.
For now.
“I did knock,” she says, wincing slightly.
“You don’t have to apologize.” I wave her over, suddenly desperate to touch her, to ground myself in something real and good. “I was almost done here anyway.”
She walks into my arms and wraps her hands around my neck. Her skin smells like vanilla. I inhale her greedily.
“You seem stressed,” she says, studying my face. “You wanna talk about it?”
I glance at the time on my computer screen. “Aren’t we supposed to leave for dinner in ten minutes?”
“Charity is always late,” Vesper says dismissively. “And anyway, Pavel said he’d pick her up, so I doubt either one of them will notice if we’re a bit late.”
I kiss her hand and pull her toward the door. “Let’s go.”
She doesn’t say another word until we’re in the car, driving through the city toward the Italian restaurant that she and Charity swear is the best in San Francisco. I’ve never beenimpressed by the place, but Vesper loves it, and that’s enough for me.
“You can’t rush these things, Kovan,” she says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “You’re doing the best you can. That’s all you can do.”
How does she always know exactly what I’m thinking? It should unnerve me, but instead, it’s comforting. Like she can see straight through to the parts of me that I try to keep hidden from everyone else.
“Ihor is planning something,” I mutter.
“So are you.”
I glance at her. She’s braided her hair to one side and added a blush matte lipstick that looks perfect with her skin tone. The pregnancy glow is real and it’s clinging to Vesper with everything it’s got. She’s never looked more beautiful.
“Did I mention that you look breathtaking tonight?”
Her cheeks turn pink. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Only because there’s nothing to tell you. Which is frustrating as hell, but it’s the truth.”
“And it has nothing to do with the conversation we’re about to have with Charity and Pavel?” she asks, her tone carefully neutral.
