Andre nodded. “I’ve got a crew looking for them.”
My uncle acknowledged his son’s report, but he focused his gaze on me. “Were you aware of the fact that you are responsible for her husband’s death?”
I shook my head. “No. I wasn’t. I only found out tonight.” Honest and trying not to panic or get consumed with rage, I told them about capturing the Popovs who’d been threatening her and how they’d talked smack in the ride to the warehouse. Then I explained how George confirmed that fact about Fitz Hayes was in the intel report he’d gotten for me when I first brought Natalie into my life. And how I hadn’t read it all, only skimming for the simplest details.
“She never talked about him?” Mikhail asked.
I shook my head. “I was giving her time to adjust and to open up to me on her own. For when she’d want to share about her past.” It was my mistake to wait for her to want to talk about her past,thinking she’d do so when she wanted to talk about how she imagined what her future could look like with me.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, calm but calculating. He didn’t rule with emotions, but pragmatically. “Perhaps she never would have reached that point.”
I gritted my teeth, hating the negativity and pessimism in his words.
Like his son, he’d give it to me cold. Bluntly.
“There’s no doubt she heard those guards,” Andre said. “And the news had to have shocked her into leaving.”
“And you’re sure you didn’t know that you were trying to make the widow of one of your kills your woman?” Mikhail asked. “Because from the way I see it, you might’ve known and wanted to avoid bringing up that topic out of fear it would scare her off.”
I shook my head. “No. I didn’t know.”
“Now you do,” he replied coolly. “Now she knows too. Now, it seems like the whole fucking world knows.”
“Father—”
Mikhail lifted his hand to cut off his son. “She’s been here as our guest for two months. She’s already associated with us to the degree she’ll be perceived as ours, Sergei. Regardless of how romantic or considerate you wanted to be with her, nothing changes that reality. She’s gone. She escaped our protection. Popovs, and now the fucking Giovannis, are preying on any way to hit us. If they circle her like vultures, she’s a liability.”
Avoiding the terror of her being wounded or harmed at all, I shook my head. “She can’t be. She doesn’t know anything. Sheisn’t privy to secrets and she’s been under supervision while here.”
“But she’s already been here with us,” he argued. “She’s already in this far. And with her on her own out there, pissed that you killed her husband, I can only question your commitment to her and how far we are supposed to go when this could result in more war.”
“I’m committed!” I yelled it, needing to vent this bottling pressure somehow. “I am committed to having her in my life. I am committed to finding her and getting her back here so we can discuss the unfortunate connection between me and her husband.”
He arched one brow. “Are you?”
“Stop,” Andre said, shaking his head. “Stop doubting him. It’s obvious he fucking cares about her. So stop giving him the third degree and let him focus on finding her.”
My uncle gave him a glowering stare. Only Andre could ever talk back to his father like that and get away with it. They were too close, more like best friends than father-and-son or boss-and-employee.
“Even if he’s taking it slow with her—or trying to—and even if he’s not hurrying to designate her as his future wife like you did with Claire, it’s fucking obvious he cares.”
I didn’t merely care about Natalie and Maisie. I was obsessed and driven to find themnow.
Before any of the enemies out there could dare to harm a single hair on her heads.
22
NATALIE
“Mommy, where are we going?”
I clutched Maisie’s small hand tightly as we hurried along the sidewalk.
A man walking at the corner of the intersection made me flinch as he drew near. The homeless bum didn’t make eye contact with me, but I couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. Being out here on the street and not near the watch of any Orlov men, I struggled with deciding what was a threat or nothing to stress about.
Volleying my gaze from the man who walked by and my daughter who whined about being outside, I hurried her to walk even faster. To stay moving. Mobile was best. It was harder to feel stuck and trapped and preyed upon when I could move and dodge trouble. Rushing along the pavement was the only way I could try to begin tamping down the emotions that wanted to rule me.
After hearing the Orlov guards talk about how Sergei was responsible for my late husband’s death, I couldn’t think straight. Controlled by the instinct to get out of that building, torun away from someone so dangerous and deceptive, I grabbed my daughter and left.
