My stomach flipped. I hated her even more, now. But I believed her.
Gennadiy let her go and holstered his gun. Emanuela stumbled away and watched us with big, scared eyes, silent for once. Gennadiy grabbed my hand and led me out of the room, pushing past the bodyguards.
I looked back over my shoulder at Emanuela. “You and her really…?”
Gennadiy winced. “A long time ago. I was young and stupid. I didn’t realize she still…” he shook his head ruefully.
I got one last look at Emanuela before we turned the corner. I hated her, but there was a pang of pity, too.What the hell happened to her, to make her like that?
As soon as it felt like we were a safe distance away, Gennadiy stopped, took my other hand, and turned me to face him. “You’re okay?” he asked.
The emotion in his voice made my throat close up. Then he brushed my wet hair back from my face, and itreallyclosed up. I knew I was a mess: make-up ruined, hair a dripping swamp. But he was looking at me like I was the most valuable thing in the world. I nodded, not trusting my voice. And replayed what had just happened.
Look into my eyes,he’d told Emanuela. What had she seen there? Something that had convinced her that Gennadiywouldrisk everything to save me.
Which meant…when he told Emanuela he had no feelings for me, he was lying, to protect me from her. Or from himself.The fragile, silvery excitement that had been crushed when he told me the kiss was a mistake began to tentatively unfurl. I swallowed and stared up at him.
Gennadiy looked away, scowling. “Come on.”
We walked back through the restaurant. A worried Yakov ran over to us. “Chyort,” he cursed when he saw me. “What did that crazysukado to you?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I was stuck out here.”
“I’m fine,” I told him.
“Emanuela didn’t order the hit,” Gennadiy told Yakov. “Thank you for coming along.” He and Yakov embraced, and then he took me back to his car. We drove to his mansion in silence, water dripping down the back of my neck as I tried to process everything. Hedidfeel things for me. Which meant the kisshadn’tbeen a mistake. So why was he pushing me away?
At Gennadiy’s mansion, I changed back into jeans, a blouse, and ankle boots and fixed my face. By the time I was done, Gennadiy had rounded up his family, and we gathered again in the dining room.
“It wasn’t Emanuela,” said Gennadiy. “So it was the Irish. Finn O'Donnell. He’s the only other person Alison was investigating.”
“That’s not good,” muttered Mikhail. Radimir cursed in Russian. His wife, Bronwyn, was sitting beside him, and he pulled her a little closer. Only Valentin was silent.
“So what do we do now?” I asked.
“We confront the Irish.” Gennadiy said viciously. “Ask Finn what the fuck he’s playing at. And we show up ready for war.”
The anger in his voice made my stomach knot. He was spiraling downwards: more brutal, more violent, and that path only ended in one way.
The family geared up, grim-faced. Valentin slid vicious-looking knives into scabbards under his long, black coat. Mikhail opened the doors of his big, black SUV and pointed, and the dogs obediently jumped in.He’s taking his dogs? What if they get hurt?
Radimir hugged his wife, and she clutched him to her tight. “Come back safe,” she told him, her voice quavering, and he closed his eyes and nodded, his head pressed against hers. My stomach flipped: Radimir was doing this for Gennadiy, who was doing it for me.If something happens to him…
Gennadiy nudged my arm. I turned to see him holding out a black handgun, no doubt with the serial numbers filed off. A criminal’s gun. I hesitated, then took it.
Radimir took his own car, Mikhail went in his SUV, and Valentin rode with us. We drove in silence, as cold gray clouds filled the sky above us. Valentin spent the journey staring out of the window, toying with something on a chain around his neck. Just as we arrived, I finally glimpsed what it was: a silver bird, small and delicate, like it was designed to hang on a thinner chain around a smaller neck.
We assembled down the street from Finn O'Donnell’s bar. The sky was getting darker and darker: we were in for a massive thunderstorm, any minute. “We don’t go in shooting,” Radimir told us sternly. “We give Finn a chance to explain. But be ready for anything.” We all nodded.
We moved off down the street, with Gennadiy and me at the backof the group. Valentin still hadn’t spoken. “Is he okay?” I murmured to Gennadiy.
Gennadiy frowned, thinking. “What’s the date?”
I had to think for a second: a lot had happened in the last few days. “The thirtieth.”
Gennadiy grimaced. “Tomorrow is a difficult day for him.” And he moved forward in the group and put his arm around Valentin’s shoulders. I stared, trying to reconcile the two sides of him: the brutal killer and crime boss who sank his opponents in Lake Michigan and the man who deeply, fiercely, loved his family.
Finn O'Donnell’s bar was a beautiful old red-brick building four stories high, surrounded by vacant lots on all sides. The story I’d heard was that property developers had bought up and demolished everything else in the street to build high-end apartment buildings, but Finn had stubbornly refused to sell. As we reached the doors, Gennadiy gave Valentin’s shoulder a last squeeze and then moved in front of me, blocking my path with his broad back. “Stay behind me,” he told me over his shoulder.
“I know how to use this,” I reminded him, showing him the gun under my jacket. “I’ve been on plenty of raids.”
