I freeze. I’d expected flirtation; a sweet nothing.
Was that—a threat?
I’m still standing rooted and bewildered when he turns to go, and leaves without a backward look.
* * *
The computers arrive before dawn. I’m roused by Lilly long before the sun has risen, instructed to bathe and dress, and fed a hasty breakfast of toast and jam. Noblinitoday. No special treatment either. Maxim meant what he said—he wants me to work.
I don’t see him until after I’ve been up for a few hours, directing grunts on where to put cables, connections, and monitors in the subterranean office he has assigned me. The walls down here, thick stone, are set deep with cold, like cancer in bone. Even with the twin cobblestone hearths lit and roaring, the Russian frost seems to rise right up out of the ground and burrow deep. Today, I realize, I truly feel like a prisoner.
Maxim’s dark curls are shower-damp and he’s wearing a fresh black sweater that rises right up to his chin, making the severe, diamond-like cut of his jaw look even sharper. I realize he didn’t return to the city last night, but slept beneath this roof. I make it a point to figure out where—and how to get there discreetly from my room.
“How long until it’s ready?” he asks me without ceremony. “How soon can you get started?”
“As soon as they’re finished,” I say, gesturing to the bins of jumbled cords still stacked around the room. “An hour or two, I suppose.”
Maxim nods grimly. He looks tired.
“If I could speak to my father’s man,” I say, quickly swallowing my sympathy, “I might be able to uncover something.”
“He’s dead.”
Jesus.“Of course he is.”
“I’ll have the information soon. We can look over it together.”
I don’t like the sound of that. I turn back to the monitors arranged on an old, gouged mahogany desk. Already this place is shaping up to be better equipped than my office back in Seattle.
“Do you intend to sit right here and watch me do my work? I should tell you, it’sveryboring.” I say it casually, well aware Maxim is intelligent and trained enough to pick up on the subtle questions between the words.
“You won’t be alone on these computers,” he says, not missing a beat. “Whether I am here to watch over you or someone else, you will always be supervised.”
I give him a sharp smile. “Like a child?”
“Like a hostage.” He holds my eyes for a beat too long, and I hold his right back. Then his phone buzzes. He checks it. “Come. Gregor is here.”
I don’t bother asking who Gregor is. I simply follow Maxim upstairs, grateful for the flood of delicious warmth that greets us through the heavy, scarred basement door. I’m dressed more modestly today, both out of a sense of utilitarianism and a ploy to lull Max into believing I’ll behave. I wear a skintight, high-collared, long-sleeved black shirt and high-waisted black trousers. Although I won’t be leaving the house, I laced up thick-soled black boots like a soldier preparing for war.
Despite the conservative clothing, I find Maxim’s eyes snagging on me as we meet Gregor, a burly, older Russian man, in the high-ceilinged parlor.
Gregor has the good grace to look afraid of me, if only a little. “So. You are the Snake’s Daughter.”
I give him a winning smile. “And you are Gregor.”
He nods once, then digs in his jacket for a sleek black hard drive. “We cross-referenced everything. Ran the list by a few contacts. If Fedor knew of a cache or a bunker to be found, it’s on this.” He taps the device lightly before passing it to Maxim. “Sacha reported a slow night at the hospital. We’ll trade shifts soon.”
Sacha. I touch my neck, still tender and now bruised a vague purple. If it comes down to a fight, he’s the first one I’m going to put a bullet in.
“Good. Thank you, Gregor. Get some rest.”
Gregor nods firmly, and with one last, harried look at me, ducks back out into the snow. Maxim examines the hard drive, turning it over and over in his hands. Then he looks at me thoughtfully.
“What?” I search his face, but his cool expression reveals nothing.
“Get your coat,” he says after a moment. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
Chapter Seven
