That shuts them both up.
Lev blinks. “Thought you said dawn.”
“Change of plan. He stays in secondary lockup any longer, Timofey gets more time to maneuver. I want Viktor under Igor’s eyes before midnight.”
Boris shifts against the wall, eyes narrowing. “You think Timofey’s already moving?”
“I know he is.” I grab my shirt off the bench and pull it over my head. “Everything’s too quiet. Quiet means someone’s working angles we can’t see.”
Lev spits a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Fucking Timofey.”
“Gear up,” I tell them. “We roll in twenty. Quiet in, quiet out.”
Something’s coming. I can feel it.
And it won’t be quiet for long.
8
Mary
I’m not saying I’ve lost control of my life, but I’m currently pretending to compare foot creams while a 6’5” Russian enforcer stands four inches behind me, breathing like Darth Vader through his nose.
Dima hasn’t said a single word since we walked into the store. Just followed me aisle to aisle like an emotionally repressed bloodhound. No cart. No list. No concept of personal space.
I don’t even need foot cream.
I edge toward the next aisle. Feminine hygiene. Try to act casual. Very normal. Just a woman… looking at tampons she doesn’t need.
Dima shifts with me. No footsteps. Just that silent shadow-glide thing he does. A corner of his jacket brushes my arm.
Now we’re both standing in front of Plan B, and I’m sweating through my sports bra.
The box is just there. Top shelf. Staring at me like it knows I hesitated too long. Like it knows exactly what kind of man I’ve tangled myself up with… and how hard it’ll be to untangle.
Come on, Mary. This is normal. People do this all the time. Totally fine. Totally responsible.
But my hand stalls. I reach for a bottle of multivitamins instead. Adult strength. Gummy. Safe.
“Immune system,” I mumble, turning the bottle like it might tell me how to stop being an idiot. “Flu season.”
Part of me wants to defend myself; say,“Obviously I’m not buying Plan B in front of a Russian Robocop.”The other part of me just wants to melt into the vitamin aisle and never be seen again.
Dima doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. He’s got that same look I’ve seen Gordo make when he stares at the wall like he sees another dimension.
I feel my face go hot. The kind of hot that starts at your collarbone and spreads like a rash of shame.
It was just a kiss.
Except it wasn’t. Because now everything’s weird, and Anton won’t look at me the same way, and I keep replaying his voice in my head—You’re not weak, Mary—like it meant something.
And maybe it did. Right up until I opened my stupid mouth and ruined it.
I’m so sorry to hear that.
What the hell was that? Pity? Sympathy? A full-blown therapy session?
I don’t even know anymore. One second, I was eating greasy noodles with a bunch of lethal Russian men who, for some reason, didn’t make me feel like an outsider. The next, Anton looked at me like I’d kicked him in the teeth.
