The phone feels like lead in my hand. "Do we know who this is?"
"Not yet, but I should have something within the hour." Yuri pauses. "Ms. Quinn was looking into Judge Morrison. She's pretty good, if I do say so myself." Yuri's voice carries something I rarely hear from him. Respect.
"How good?"
"Good enough to impress me. She closed her loops, covered her tracks better than most professionals I've seen." Another pause. "But I would have caught the subtle digital fingerprints she left behind. The kind only someone very good would notice."
Yuri doesn't get impressed easily. He is the ghost who slips through digital locks like smoke, who turned the Basov security system inside out before they hired us instead of hunting us.
"Get Dominic and Alexei here. The others are already positioned around the building. You and I are going hunting."
"About time." The satisfaction in Yuri's voice would be comforting if I weren't calculating how many ways this could go wrong.
"Are you going to tell her?"
"Yes. I have to, when we know more."
"Anton, she won't want to stay away from this, I don't think."
"Which is why you'll need to teach her more. If she's going to be in the game, she needs to be better than good. She needs to be invisible."
"Understood."
"Call when you get here. I'll meet you downstairs and bring the laptop."
I end the call and stand there, in my kitchen, staring at the phone like it might explode.
I walk back and I stand in the doorway of my bedroom, and everything stops. She fell asleep waiting for me. Her hair spills across my pillow like dark silk. She's in one of my black T-shirts, which drowns her small frame.
One look and I'm gone. Completely, irrevocably ruined. She's claimed my entire world without even trying.
In a perfect world, I'd slide back into that bed, pull her against me, and spend all day with her, ordering whatever she wanted to eat, staying with her through the night, giving her the perfect first morning after. I would give her all the tenderness she deserves after trusting me with something so precious.
Instead, I have to leave her. Again.
I move to the bed. The mattress dips as I settle behind her, my body curving around her. At six-foot-four, I tower over her five-foot-two, and lying like this, she fits perfectly against me like she was designed to be held by my hands.
My arm slides around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. The moment my skin touches hers through the thin cotton, fire races through my veins. My body responds instantly, wanting her again.
But she needs time. Needs gentleness.
I press my lips to the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with something that's purely Fee. She stirs slightly, making a soft sound that goes straight to my chest.
"Solnishko," I whisper against her hair.
Her breathing stays even. Deep. Peaceful.
My thumb traces small circles against her hip through the soft cotton. She makes that little sound again, softer this time, and burrows deeper into my warmth.
I brush her hair aside and press soft kisses to the back of her neck, tasting the faint salt of her skin. She stirs against me, a sleepy sound escaping her lips.
"Anton." Her voice comes out husky with sleep.
"I'm here, Solnishko." I keep kissing that spot where her neck meets her shoulder, the one that made her arch beneath me.
She turns in my arms, green eyes still heavy with sleep, and the trust I see in them nearly breaks me. Her small hand finds my chest, fingers tracing the tattoos that map my violent history.
I catch her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her palm. "Fee, I have to go."
