“I’d bet on it.” He sucks air through his teeth as Anton pulls the string again.
Anton doesn’t respond. He looks like he’s focusing on sewing Mikki’s shoulder. He gets to the last stitch and ties it off. Then to me he says, “Leave us alone, please?”
I don’t argue or object. I don’t think I want to know any more about whatever happened tonight. I’m in enough trouble as it is with this whole situation.
As I go back into his room, however, I can’t get Mikki’s attack out of my mind. I guess because it doesn’t sound like what I might expect of a ‘hit’ or whatever. I wonder why whoever jumped him used a knife instead of a gun.
Maybe it wasn’t a hit at all. Ugh. How in the world am I supposed to tell one end of this from the other? Everything seems like it’s turned upside down.
I need my phone. I want to call Ilya and maybe bounce some of this mess off her. Or maybe just to hear a friendly voice. I look around the room. He took my phone… I’ll bet it’s here somewhere.
My first thought is the nightstand. It’s where I’d probably put it. I go and open the drawer. Inside, just as I’d thought, is my phone, turned off and untouched and sitting right on top of his gun.
He’d said that he was taking it for my own personal safety. That it could be tracked. Would my father even know how to track a cellphone? I doubt it. I’ve seen him struggle with the remote before.
And anyway, it can’t hurt to make a phone call. Just to talk to Ilya really quick. It’s possible that she’s heard something. Also, I’d like to bounce off this whole thing with Mikki. I don’t know why it sounds familiar…
I turn the phone on. It takes a few minutes to load up, but once it does, it starts chirping. A string of notifications pops up on my screen… and they’re all from one person.
My father. I sit and count them as they roll in… He’s called about ten times, left at least five voice messages, and there are no fewer than fifteen text messages.
I open the text messages and they’re all variations on the same question.
Where are you? Heard you were staying with Ilya, but she says she hasn’t seen you.
Where the fuck are you?
You’d better answer me, dammit. Answer the fucking phone!
Each message gets more and more pissy. He must have heard about what happened in the park. The minute I think that, I almost laugh. He’d have to care about me to be calling about that.
Maybe he’s heard about the other thing. Maybe this is him worried about my safety. Cruel or not, he’s still my father. There has to be some parental instinct that wants to keep me safe.
I guess… I guess it’s possible that he’s changed his mind. Whoever he was talking to on the phone, he was asking them to do the job for him. If he’s looking for me himself, then maybe he called them off. Maybe in his own fucked up way, he actually is worried about me.
I look for Ilya’s number in my contacts. He said something about going to her apartment. I need to find out what happened when he showed up there.
“What are you doing?”
I look up and see Anton standing in the doorway.Shit.
I just freeze, sitting here red-handed. “I was just… I needed my phone?—”
He takes a step toward me and I move away from him. He stops, his dark eyes flashing warning at me.
“I just need to talk to my friend,” I tell him. “My father has been looking for me and I need to know what he said to her.”
He studies my face for a few seconds, then he says in a calm voice, “Give me the phone, Natalya.”
He puts his hand out expectantly and I’m tempted to tell him no again… but I don’t. This isn’t some little sex game between us.This is real life and in real life, I don’t want to be on the angry end of a Pakhan.
I cave and hand over the phone. “You don’t understand,” I tell him. “If he’s looking for me then it means something.”
“I don’t care what you think it means.” He turns off the phone again and walks over to one of the paintings on the walls. “Cellphones are beacons for people looking for you. I told you that when I took it from you.”
“Wouldn’t somebody have to at least have my number or something to search my phone? Or maybe be somewhere nearby? I’m practically in a fortress right now. Nobody could get close enough to do anything… probably.”
He gives me an annoyed glance as he takes down the painting revealing a safe embedded in the wall. He enters the combination on the number pad in quick succession and pulls the handle to open it. “I don’t need this headache right now.”
