Even his ears turn pink.
I press on, fueled by nervous energy and the knowledge that stopping now would make this ten times worse.
“I mean it,” I add earnestly. “I once had to use the wrong brand during a twelve-hour catering shift, and I almost cried in a walk-in freezer. So this is really not optional.”
He clears his throat. “I see,” he says.
“I don’t think you do,” I reply, smiling tightly. “But that’s okay. You don’t have to. You just have to take me.”
Another blink. He shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable but trying to stay professional.
“I’ll need to clear it,” he says.
“That’s fine,” I say, far too quickly. “Totally fine. I just wanted to be clear that this isn’t, like, a luxury errand. This is a medical necessity.”
He nods, eyes flicking to the notebook in my hand. They widen slightly, and I know he’s seen the word tampons.
He looks up at me again, face carefully neutral.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll get clearance.”
14
ANDREI
By the time I return to the safehouse, it’s already nighttime. I’ve spent the in and out of meetings monitored closely by a team of security guards. There are some things that just can’t be done over phone or computer. There are people I need to look in the eye when I tell them that finding my attacker is the most important job of their lives.
Unfortunately, it’s mostly been a waste of time. None of it has brought me closer to answers. I step inside and remove my coat slowly, deliberately, hanging it on the back of the chair by the door. I roll my shoulders once, loosening the stiffness that has taken up residence there, and then I open my computer. I’ve set a virtual meeting with all my most trusted men, since being together in one room isn’t a great idea right now.
Nicolai is there, as expected, posture composed, eyes alert. Petya is also on the screen, as well as Anderson and a few other of my most trustedavtoritets.
“I want updates,” I tell them, as I lean over the kitchen table staring into the camera. “I’ve wasted an entire day takingmeetings that led to exactly nothing. Give me some good fucking news for once.”
Nicolai inclines his head slightly. “We’ve tightened the perimeter. Rotated personnel. Changed routes twice today.”
“And how is that helping me find Kostya Belov?” I ask evenly.
A flicker passes through Petya’s expression.
“Kostya Belov has been difficult to locate,” he answers carefully.
That gets my attention.
I cross my arms slowly over my chest. “Explain.”
“For a man who supposedly co-owns a restaurant,” Petya continues, “he has been remarkably unavailable. He doesn’t keep a consistent schedule or have a reliable residence. His phone activity is irregular.”
I let out a short breath through my nose. “So,” I say, “either he’s paranoid, or he’s part of this.”
“Potentially both,” Nicolai adds.
My jaw tightens.
I remember Alina standing in that elevator in her party dress, eyes burning with fury and hurt. This asshole really thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants.
“He’s definitely acting strange for someone who allegedly isn’t involved in this assassination plot,” I say.
“No,” Nicolai agrees. “He either know everything about it, or he’s being used as a pawn by much more powerful family members.”
