Andrei makes a dismissive wave. “Bah! Men can always be replaced. I’ll find new, more trustworthyvor. I’ll vet them myself. Get rid of them now before they rid themselves of you.”
I meet my brother’s gaze, the one that expects me to make a decision, to make a move. And he’s right. My reply needs to be swift and decisive, so I can cut off this rebellion within my ranks before it grows out of control.
But for the first time, something about my brother’s solution doesn’t feel right. I don’t know why, but I feel on edge, and I know I must find Leah first. There is no other option; I’m certain of that.
“Find the proof, brother. Show me their betrayal, and I will give you free rein to do whatever you wish to them. But show me proof first.”
My brother’s jaw clenches, and he grinds his teeth visibly. But then he bows his head. “Dah, moi Pakhan.”
24
LEAH
"Mom, I'm bored." Eliza is lying on the couch upside down, her head hanging from the seat and her feet, which I can just see, waving over the back.
"I'm almost done with dinner," I tell her, trying to resist the urge to give her my phone again. She's probably had more screen time since we got here than she has in her entire life. But I'm just trying to survive and figure out where to go next.
Suzie found this place, a house that belongs to a friend of a friend who's out of the country. It's a world away from Viktor's gilded Upper East Side mansion, but it's enough.
Even here, though, in a quiet, suburban New Jersey neighborhood, fear is a constant companion. It hums beneath my skin, a low, persistent thrumming that won't go away. I tense at every unfamiliar car going down the street, every shadow, every sound of footsteps behind me when I do something as simple as grocery shopping. I can't even have things delivered because I can't use my card; I'm too afraid Viktor will use it to track me down.
It's late afternoon, the sun already dipping low, casting long shadows across the living room. Suzie is on the phone, her voice low and serious, no doubt talking to someone at work. Or maybe she's talking to a contact, trying to solidify our escape, so we can truly vanish. And I'm cooking a stew, stirring the pot in a rhythmic motion that offers a small amount of comfort.
"Eliza," I call over my shoulder, "set the table, please, but leave the bowls over here."
My daughter groans, and so does the couch when she slides off as slowly as possible. Setting the table isn’t the relief from her boredom she’s looking for.
But she does as I ask, and the three of us sit down to dinner, a quiet affair because we don't have anything to talk about. And what wedohave to talk about, neither Suzie nor I want to discuss, especially in front of Eliza. Benji is, of course, sitting by Eliza, because he knows she'll slip him whatever out of the stew she doesn't like. I let her do it because I'm feeling guilty enough as it is, and right now, the Great Dane is her only friend.
"Okay," Suzie states, her spoon clanking on the sides of her bowl as she drops it to emphasize her point. "Enough of all these gloomy faces around the table. I want to laugh. Let's hear some funny stories."
I turn to Suzie, and she looks stricken at the gleam in my eye. “Like the time Auntie Suzie got stuck in the ceiling of the girls’ bathroom in high school? Is that what you want to talk about?”
Suzie groans, and I’m already laughing. Eliza’s eyes are wide and eager, and soon we’re all laughing through the stories that come, one after the other, detailing all the fun—and trouble—Suzie and I have had over the years.
Dark clouds have overcome the evening light, and rain splatters on the window. We're all brushing away the tears when a knock at the door makes us all jump. Benji lets out a deep woof. Suzie and I look at each other, exchanging a silent message.
Suzie stands up quickly. "Eliza, honey, come help me take the dishes to the kitchen.”
"Aww," Eliza complains, but she gathers her bowl and mine and follows my best friend to the kitchen. Benji paces by my side to the door. Whoever's on the other side knocks again. I look through the peephole, fighting a gasp so I don't alert Eliza or scare her.
It's Iliya, dark hair wet with rain, breath coming out as puffs of white. I don't know how he found us so easily and so quickly. Then I wonder if he and Suzie have been in contact. Is there any way this man wouldn't tell Viktor where we are? I see only Iliya and no one else.
So I unlock the door and open it reluctantly, not knowing what the hell is going to happen when I come face-to-face with Viktor's right-hand man.
"Hi, Iliya."
I say it loud enough so Suzie can hear me. At least, I hope she can hear me over the sound of the water running for the dishes. I don't have time to say any more before Benji shoves past me using his gigantic nose, and wriggles toward Iliya. He fell in love with the guy from the moment he set eyes on him. Much like his owner, I imagine. I don't know what it is about the glowering giant of a tattooed Russian mobster, but somehow, both of them are gaga over him.
As proven when I hear Suzie's gasp behind me and her excited, "Iliya?"
In my distraction, I hadn’t realized the sound of dishwashing had stopped, and both Suzie and Eliza run to him. But my best friend stops short as she realizes what his presence means for me and for our plan to disappear.
"Shit," she mutters.
Eliza doesn’t stop. My daughter runs at Iliya, arms open. He doesn't move as she collides with him so hard it would nearly knock me over. And surprisingly, he puts an arm around the girl, who has her arms wrapped around his leg.
His eyes, though, are locked on Suzie, until he forces himself to shift his gaze to me.
