But Hans stayed close.
“Will you stay the night?” Adrik asked, trying to sound casual, but the words came out softer than he meant. Too hopeful.
Hans’ expression tightened, not unkind, just overwhelmed. “I need one night,” he said. “Just to think abouteverything you sort of told me.” He hesitated, then added, “I’ll meet you tomorrow. Six o’clock. My place.”
The answer wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t the yes Adrik wanted either. Fear flickered through him—sharp, cold, impossible to hide. Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned in and kissed Hans. Slow. Careful. Like he was afraid Hans might pull away.
When he pulled back, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Does that mean… there’s a chance you won’t want to see me again?”
Hans shook his head immediately. “No. That’s not it.” His voice was steady, even if his eyes were still full of questions. “I want you. I do. I just need a little time to get used to everything.”
A tightness he hadn’t realized he was feeling loosened all at once, leaving his knees a little unsteady, like the floor had shifted half an inch under him. He kissed Hans again—a little firmer this time, a little more certain—wanting him to feel how much he meant it.
Adrik tossed the empty beer bottles into the recycling bin and headed toward the porch for a smoke. His nerves were still buzzing from Hans leaving—the kiss, the hope, the fear he’d messed everything up. He was halfway to the door when someone pounded on it, hard enough to rattle the frame.
He froze for a moment, then a smile broke across his face. Hans is back. He practically jogged to the door and yanked it open. The smile died instantly. A stranger stood there—tall, dressed head-to-toe in black, expression unreadable. Not Hans. Not even close. Adrik’s breath stalled in his chest. His mind went straight to the worst place.
This is it. They found me. Viktor finally sent someone.
“Adrik Marinov?” the man asked in Russian.
Adrik’s mouth went dry. He forced his voice to be steady. “Who wants to know?”
“Your mother.”
Everything inside him stopped. “My mother?”
The man tilted his head. “Is your mother Masha Marinov?”
“Yes,” Adrik said, barely getting the word out. My mother. How the hell did she find him? How did anyone?
“She sent me here to make sure you are safe.”
Adrik blinked, stunned. “I’m standing here so I guess I am. Is my mother okay?”
“She’s in hiding right now. Not with her parents, but she is in Russia. She wanted me to ask if you wanted to stay with her.”
Adrik shook his head immediately. “No. I’m happy here. Tell her to stay safe… and that I love her.”
The man nodded once. “I need to take your picture for her.”
Adrik stepped outside, still dazed. The man snapped a quick photo and then handed him an envelope.
“What’s this?” Adrik asked.
“Your mother’s address and phone number. She’d love to hear from you.”
Adrik swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
“Stay safe, Adrik.”
He hesitated, then asked, “How did you find me?”
“She hired me. I don’t disclose my sources.”
“I see.” Of course not. Professionals never do.
Adrik took a deep breath, allowing the frosty night air to settle heavy in his lungs. He shouldn’t say it. He knew he shouldn’t. This man had just shown up out of nowhere, carrying pieces of a past Adrik had moved away from. But the name burned in his mind, the same way it always did, and the opportunity was right there in front of him.
