Page 198 of Toxic Salvation
“Depends on your definition of urgent. Luka, did Papa happen to mention where he was off to next?”
“He said that he had something speci?—”
“Oh, no!” Pavel lunges forward as part of their race track collapses. “Sorry, kiddo, that was my fault.”
“As you were. I’ll find him myself.” I give Luka a parting wink and hurry down the hall.
I check his office first—empty. Then the gym, the kitchen, even the wine cellar. Nothing.
I end up sticking my head into Mom’s room. She’s propped up in bed doing the crossword, reading glasses perched on her nose.
“Mom, have you seen Kovan?”
“Actually, I think he was looking for you. He was here an hour ago asking about your evening plans.”
I frown. “Weird. Why wouldn’t he just ask me directly? He has my schedule memorized. He knows I have the evening off.”
Mom shrugs. “He had a meeting with the FBI today. Maybe he forgot.”
“The FBI?!” I stare at her. “Are you serious? He didn’t mention that to me.”
She winces. “Oops. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to get him in trouble. I thought you knew.”
That’s the thing—Ishouldhave known. Kovan tells me everything. I return the favor. The fact that he kept something this important from me means the meeting was about me.
The allegations Jeremy planted against me went all the way to the FBI. Because of who I am and who I’m married to, I’ve been able to continue my life normally, but there’s still an axe hangingover my head. The FBI has been investigating St. Raphael’s for months.
Thanks to Jeremy and Ihor, all roads lead back to me, courtesy of all the false information they planted.
It doesn’t help that they have actual evidence of my father’s crimes. Which fits perfectly with the whole “shady crime family” narrative that has a very real possibility of taking me down.
“Vesper—”
“It’s okay, Mom.” I turn down the corridor. “I’ll find him.”
I’m circling the living room when Osip walks in, watching me with amusement. “If you want to play fetch,” he chuckles, “I have a stick in the backyard we can use.”
“Bite me, Osip. Where’s my husband?”
“He’s not really your husband, though, is he?” Osip grins. “I mean, that whole marriage under the stars thing was romantic and all. But it hardly counts legally.”
“For fuck’s sake, why are we even talking about this?”
Osip takes a step back as though he’s worried I might bite. “Yikes. What’s got you all worked up?”
“Did you know that Kovan was meeting with the FBI today?”
He blinks rapidly. “I’m not sure he mentioned that to me?—”
“Cut the bullshit, Osip. You’re a terrible liar. Where is he?”
He points toward the garden. “Went for a walk in that direction, I think.”
Great. The man hardly has time for a proper conversation with me these last few days, but he has time for a leisurely stroll through the garden.
I abandon my shoes and hit the grass with bare feet for maximum speed. My skirt billows behind me as I search for my husband. I end up having to call out his name. It’s very Catherine and Heathcliff on the moors.
Except the stakes are so much higher.
