He exhaled slowly. “I’d like to hire you.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”
Adrik hesitated with only a heartbeat. Enough to feel the weight of the choice. Enough to know he couldn’t take it back.
“To find Sergei Kozlov.”
The man handed him a card. “Send me the information.”
“How much do you need?”
“Nothing. I’m not sure I’ll take the case.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “And, Adrik—don’t answer the door unless you know who’s there. Install a camera.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Again, stay safe.” He turned and walked off into the dark.
Adrik stood there long after the man disappeared, the envelope warm in his hand, his pulse still racing. His mother had found him. She was away from Viktor and safe. She cared enough to send someone.
He didn’t know whether to feel relieved… or terrified.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hans
Hans wished he smoked—justthis once—as he walked home from Adrik’s cottage. The cold air bit at his cheeks, but it didn’t do a damn thing to quiet his thoughts. They spun in circles, faster with every step.
Adrik’s father.
The fight.
The threats.
Hans kept replaying it all, trying to piece together what could push someone to leave an entire country behind. He couldn’t imagine Adrik threatening anyone; the man barely raised his voice. So whatever happened… it had to be bad. Really bad.
And then there was the tutor. That little detail kept poking at him. A private tutor who taught him German phrases tailored to his “lifestyle.” Who the hell had a tutor like that? And why did Hans get this stupid, irrational twist in his stomachwondering if the tutor was someone Adrik had cared about? Someone he’d wanted?
By the time he reached his cottage, he felt wrung out. He made himself a cup of chamomile tea—something his grandmother used to swear by—and hoped it would knock him out. It didn’t. Even after a hot shower, even lying in bed, all he could think about was Adrik. The way he’d looked at him. The way he’d kissed him. Hans already knew he wasn’t walking away from this, no matter how messy Adrik’s past was.
He was in too deep.
The next morning, Hans took the train to the university, still tired. He checked the language computer lab first, scanning the rows of screens for that familiar brown head.
Nothing.
Adrik had skipped class.
That wasn’t like him. It tugged at Hans more than he wanted to admit.
Back in his office, he’d barely sat down to grade papers when someone knocked. His heart jumped, ridiculously hopeful, and he practically leapt to the door.
Amelia stood there with a stack of folders and her usual bright smile.
“Morning, Hans.” Her gaze swept the room, taking in the books scattered everywhere, papers on the floor, pens rolling near the chair legs. “What happened here? Did a storm come through?”
“Nothing,” Hans said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… need to straighten up.”
“I’ll help.” She set her folders down and started gathering loose papers before he could protest.
