"Noemi? Noemi, please open the door."
I flip the lock and pull the door open and he stands there with a blotchy face from crying and his eyes red and swollen. But I barely register any of that because I'm too busy looking at the men standing behind him.
They're not Lazar and Vasili.
One of them has his hand on Sasha's shoulder in a tight grip that looks painful, and the other is looking at me with a smile that makes my stomach turn over.
"Good morning," the smiling one says. "You must be the teacher."
I grab Sasha and yank him into the room, trying to slam the door shut, but one of them is faster. He shoves his boot into the gap and forces his way inside, and then they're both in the room with us and the door is closing behind them and I realize with a cold, sick feeling that there's nowhere to run.
Fyodor isn't here.
"What do you want!" I hiss, and I back up into the room, stumbling over my own feet.
I'm going to kill him. If I survive this, I'm going to find Fyodor Gravitch and I'm going to kill him myself.
"Where’s Fyodor?" I demand, pulling Sasha behind me and backing toward the wall.
"That's a very good question," the smiling one says. He's older, probably old enough to be my father, with silver at his temples and a wry smile that sickens me. "He's been very busy tonight, your Fyodor. Running around the city trying to find someone who doesn't want to be found. But don't worry. He'll figure out we're here eventually."
"Who are you?" I hiss, now trembling. I don't even have enough situational awareness to know whether Sasha is crying or sad. He's tucked behind me as if that's some sort of protection, but if these men wanted us dead, we'd be dead by now.
The smile gets wider. "My name is Marat Koslov. I don’t believe we've met." He extends his hand, and I stare at it as my throat constricts.
My blood goes cold as I trace his arm back upward toward his face and meet his sleazy eyes. This is the man Fyodor is hunting, and he's standing in our motel room. I take another step backward away from him, but my entire body feels like it's weighted down by lead.
"What do you want?"
"I want to prove a point." Marat crosses the room and sits down on the edge of the bed, making himself comfortable like he owns the place. He picks up one of the rose petals from the bed andexamines it, rolling it between his fingers. Then his eyes narrow and he chuckles and waves his friend off. That man moves to stand by the door as Marat continues.
"Fyodor Gravitch took an order to kill me, and he's going to fail at that order tonight. But mostly because he has no real passion." He tosses the petal on the bed and smirks at me. "Except perhaps as a lover. Tell me, Ms. Teacher Lady… Is he good in bed?"
I hiss and turn, covering Sasha's ears before this man can say any other crude thing a child should never hear. "You don't know anything about him," I throw over my shoulder in anger, and his eyes darken.
"I know he left you here alone." Marat folds his hands and looks at me with those cold eyes. "I know he'd rather hunt down an innocent man than protect his own son."
Sasha clings to me, and I press a kiss to the top of his head softly. "It's going to be okay,solnyshko." I'm shaking so badly, I can't see how I could even be comforting to him, but I try.
"Leave the boy out of this. Whatever point you're trying to make, you can make it with me. He's just a child."
"He's Fyodor's child. That's the whole point." Marat stands up and moves toward us, and I back away until my shoulders hit the wall and there's nowhere else to go. Sasha cowers beside me, now crying louder. "What kind of father leaves his son unguarded to chase a target halfway across the city? He thinks he can hunt me down and kill me, and he's wrong."
"Please… he's just a boy…" I say, talking over him, but he's so insolent, he just keeps going.
"The kind who cares more about his reputation than his responsibilities." Marat's right in front of me now and his breath reeks of cigar smoke.
My hand comes up and I slap him across the face as hard as I can, snapping his head to the side, and it leaves my palm stinging. "You're pathetic," I spit at him. "You're threatening a woman and a child because you're too scared to face Fyodor yourself. What kind of man does that?"
The backhand catches me across the cheek and sends me stumbling. I hit the dresser hard, knocking over the candle stubs and scattering more rose petals across the floor, and for a second I can't see anything but stars. I fall to my knees and hold my cheek, which throbs with pain that radiates down my neck and up into my head, and Sasha is there in an instant, clinging to me again. His sobs shake his whole body now.
"The kind of man who wins," Marat says coldly. "It's about knowing where your enemy is weak and exploiting it."
I push myself up, tasting blood where I bit my tongue, and Sasha moves suddenly, throwing himself at Marat with his small fists flying.
"Don't hurt her! Leave her alone!" he screams and then begins kicking too. Panic slices through my chest, but I'm seeing double. I can't even stand properly right now.
He hits Marat in the stomach and the legs, anywhere he can reach, his small fists pounding uselessly against a man three times his size. For a moment, I'm so stunned I can't move. Sasha fighting a grown man because he saw that man hurt me.
