Good. Let him think we haven’t noticed.
The park is six blocks away, a small square of grass and trees wedged between Soviet-era apartment buildings. Kira runs ahead the moment we’re through the gate and makes a beeline for the rusty swing set. I guide Daria to a bench with clear sightlines in three directions and settle beside her with my arm draped across her shoulders.
“This feels ridiculous,” she complains under her breath.
“Happy couples don’t act like they’re being watched. They act like idiots.”
“You’re very good at this.”
“Years of practice.” I scan the park’s perimeter without moving my head. Two mothers are chatting near the sandbox. An old man is walking a dog that looks older than he is. No gray coatsor obvious surveillance. “Bogdan’s man stayed at the bench. He’s not following us.”
“What does that mean?”
“Either they’re only watching the building, or there’s a second team I haven’t spotted.” I squeeze her shoulder. “Laugh like I said something funny.”
She does, and to her credit, it almost sounds genuine.
“Better. Now lean into me and say something about how handsome I am.”
“You’re insufferable.” But she leans into me anyway, wedging her body against my side. Her hand lands on my thigh, and her fingers curl into the muscle there.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accuses under her breath. “Using surveillance as an excuse to get your hands on me.”
“And if I am?”
“Then you should know two can play that game.” She walks her fingers higher and stops just short of dangerous territory.
I catch her wrist and hold it there. “Careful, golubka. You start something here, and I’ll finish it later. And I won’t be quick about it.”
“Promises, promises.”
Kira is three swings away, pumping her legs and singing something about butterflies. Close enough to see. Too far to hear.
I lean down until my lips graze the shell of her ear. “When we get home, I’m going to bend you over that kitchen counter and makeyou come so hard that the neighbors file a noise complaint. And that’s just to start.”
She sucks in a breath and squeezes her thighs together.
“Then I’m going to take you to bed and do it all over again. Slower. Until you’re begging me to let you rest. So keep teasing me, Daria. See what happens.”
Her pupils dilate, and her lips are parted. I haven’t even touched her.
“Mama! Watch me!” Kira’s voice cuts through from the slide.
Daria blinks, and the spell breaks. She clears her throat and waves at her daughter. “I see you, baby! Go again!” Then she returns her attention to me and grumbles, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Not if I can help it.” I give her knee a squeeze before standing. “Now, I have to go cheer for the twelfth trip down the slide. Try to compose yourself.”
We stay at the park for an hour. I push Kira on the swings while Daria pretends to scroll through her phone, reviewing the encrypted files Tony sent overnight. When Kira demands I watch her go down the slide again, I clap and cheer like a proud stepfather while noting the three new faces that have appeared at the edge of the park.
One is a woman with a stroller that never moves. Another is a jogger who’s been stretching by the same tree for twenty minutes. The third is a teenager smoking near the gate, but his eyes keep flitting toward us instead of his phone.
By the time we leave, I’ve counted six probable watchers. Bogdan is burning resources to keep eyes on us, which means he’s nervous. Nervous is good. Nervous people make mistakes.
The afternoon passes in manufactured domesticity. I fix a loose cabinet hinge while Daria does laundry. We eat lunch at the small kitchen table with Kira chattering away. At 2:15 p.m., I take the trash to the dumpster behind the building and spend four minutes mapping the sight lines from the adjacent rooftops.
At 3:30, while Kira naps and Daria reads to her in the bedroom, I slip into the bathroom and call Tony on the secure line.
“Got your surveillance report,” he tells me by way of answering. “If you’re right, Bogdan has pulled in contractors from outside his usual network. Expensive ones.”
