Page 98 of Sinner's Obsession

“We go through the window and right. Stick close to the shadows,” I instruct, switching to English to ensure Silvia knows what to do. “You don’t look back, even if Val and I have to turn and fight. Keep going until you can flag a taxi. If we fall behind, we’ll meet you at the Matron’s.” If we fall behind, we’ll most likely be dead. But I don’t say that.

Pyotr’s mother doesn’t live far, and she can take them in and give them refuge if we can’t protect them.

Plan in place, I haul Val toward the window and help him outside so he can keep a lookout while we escape. One by one, Pyotr eases through the window, his easy dexterity allowing him to drop to the ground in a matter of seconds before reaching up to take Isla.

Too terrified to argue, the little girl trades from her mother’s arms to her father’s, and she clings to Pyotr as he holds her close, stroking her raven hair. Glancing over my shoulder at the sound of splintering wood, I turn my attention to getting Silvia through the window.

Then I join them a second later, dropping to the ground.

“Go,” I whisper, gesturing in the direction they should run.

Gun in hand, I sling Val’s arm around my shoulder, and we make a hasty retreat. Sirens blare in the distance, most likely the fire department aware that the Veles mansion is up in flames. Neighbors on either side of the house pour out onto the street. Their looks of horror turned toward the smoke billowing from the building rather than the gun hanging at my side.

Good. Their presence will help us get away more easily.

A taxi rounds the street corner, and Silvia jumps into action, waving it down. In an instant, Pyotr and Isla are piled in the back seat, Silvia gesturing for me to hurry. I don’t hesitate, hauling Val toward safety. But I know there won’t be enough room for us all.

“Get him to the Matron,” I growl as I heave Val unceremoniously into the back seat beside Isla.

He grunts but remains stoic as he forces his injured leg to bend in the confined space. Still, better not to let the cabbie see Val bleeding openly by putting him in the front seat.

“Are you going after Dani?” Pyotr asks as Silvia slips into the front seat.

The weight of my responsibility to protect Pyotr’s family wars with my desperation to see Dani safe. Every fiber of my being screams for me to find her. But it’s my duty to ensure mypakhanis out of danger.

“I cannot,” I insist. “Not until you are safe.”

“We’re fine now. There’s nothing more you can do for us. If you want to help, find Dani.”

I hesitate, worried they might be followed unless I ensure they make it to the Matron safely.

“Go!” Pyotr barks when I pause. “And, Efrem? You better keep her alive.”

Spurred on by his orders, I give a sharp nod and close the cab door. I wait just long enough to see the cab roll safely around the corner into the night. A moment later, the Zhivoder men pour onto the street, guns in hand.

From their soot-smeared faces, I would wager they were unable to follow us through the house because the fire blocked their path. Sneering at their failed attempt to kill my Pakhan, I slip into the shadows to make my way toward the city and Dani.

35

DANI

The club is in full swing as I step inside Kaleidoscope, the music throbbing, the floor pulsing beneath my feet like a heartbeat. The strobe lights make it impossible to see where I’m going, who I’m looking for. And as the mob of people dance and grind, filling every inch of open space, I feel panic rising up inside me.

How will I ever find Ben here?

I see no signs of an altercation, no familiar faces.

Women dressed in nothing but stringy thongs, nipple tassels, and sky-high heels dance on platforms high above the crowd, twirling sensually around stripper poles. The place reeks of sweat and alcohol, and if I weren’t so nauseous with worry for my brother, I might be repulsed by the gaudy display of drunkenness.

But right now, I have to find Ben.

Tapping the first girl I find on the shoulder, I catch her attention. “I’m looking for my brother, Ben!” I shout over the music.

“What!” she shouts back, her attention already starting to wander.

“Ben! Have you seen a blond guy, tall…”

My voice dwindles as she goes back to dancing, seeming to forget we were talking in the first place. It happens again and again; clubgoers in various stages of inebriation fail to hear, comprehend, or care about my plight.

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