She stands up slowly, like she's not sure if she should move closer or stay where she is—like there’s anywhere for her to fucking run if she decided to do that instead. "What are you talking about?"
I take another drink. The vodka burns going down, but it doesn't touch the rage. Nothing touches it. "The ransom. He's been stalling, making excuses. Asking for more proof you're alive, more time to gather the money. More assurances you'll be returned safely."
Liesl licks her lips nervously. I try not to stare at her mouth, and fail. Try not to imagine handing her a drink and then licking drops of vodka off her lips. I’m half-hard now, and I grit my teeth as she speaks again, her voice shaking. "That's... that's normal, isn't it? He's being careful."
"No." I set the glass down harder than necessary. "He's buying time."
Her eyes are very wide. "For what?"
"For his real plan."
She takes a step closer. Her hands are clasped in front of her, fingers twisting together. It’s a nervous gesture that makes her look younger than she is, more vulnerable. As if I needed to hate myself any more for the fact that I’m considering just killing her. Just getting this over with. I don’t need this complication. A girl I didn’t want here, who is weakening my defenses and my standing in this organization, who makes me lose control. Who has me at half-mast right now while I try to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do with her, this little caged bird who I so badly want to make sing with pleasure.
"What plan?" she asks quietly.
I look at her for a long moment. I take in the soft sweater, the bare shoulder, the fear in her eyes. She’s terrified of me. Anywant I saw before is gone, in this moment. She’s afraid for her life, and she should be. It’s very much in danger right now.
"Your father," I say slowly, "has made contact with the Volkov family."
Her brow furrows. "I don't know who that is."
"A rival organization, based in Brooklyn. They've been trying to expand into Manhattan for years. Into my territory." There’s no purpose in keeping that from her, right now. She needs to understand what her father has done. Maybe there’s some way to use this to my advantage, to keep from having to kill her. And if not, well…
It won’t matter what she knows if she’s dead.
Understanding starts to dawn in her eyes. "And my father contacted them?"
"Three days ago. While you've been here, while he's been pretending to negotiate your ransom." I can hear the anger creeping into my voice, tightening my jaw. "He's been meeting with Volkov. He’s looking to destabilize my organization from the inside."
She shakes her head. "That doesn't make sense. Why would he?—"
"Because he's using you." The words come out flat and hard. "Your kidnapping. He's using it as a distraction. While I'm focused on managing you, on negotiating the ransom, on keeping my men from questioning why I'm keeping a captive instead of just killing her—he's been working with my enemies to undermine everything I've built."
The color drains from her face. "No. He wouldn't?—"
"He would." I slam back another drink of vodka. "He has. I got that information tonight.”
"You're lying."
I chuckle, low and dangerous in the back of my throat. "I don't lie. I may be many things,pevchaya ptitsa—a murderer, a thief, a criminal of many kinds—but I am not a liar."
She stares at me. I can see her mind working, trying to reconcile what I'm telling her with whatever image she has of her father in her head.
"He's trying to get me back," she says. But there's uncertainty in her voice now… doubt. "He's just... he's being strategic. He's a businessman. He knows how to negotiate."
"He's not trying to get you back." I see the pulse leap in her throat, and I want to wrap my fingers around it again, feel that fragile heartbeat against my skin. "He's trying to use your kidnapping to destroy me. He’s decided that he would rather risk you and get revenge for what happened than ensure you’re safe at home. He’d rather throw in his chips with a man who might make him richer, if he accomplishes this, rather than make him pay money out of his own pocket.”
"That's insane."
"It’s smart." I correct her. "It’s ruthless. Is exactly what I would do if I were in his position."
Her eyes widen. “You wouldn’t. If you had a daughter…”
“You clearly don’t understand who I am,ptitsa, if you think that.”
She takes a step back, then another, like proximity to me makes it harder to think. Or maybe just because she’s afraid of me.
"He wouldn't risk my life like that," she says finally. Her voice is small. "He wouldn't use me as... as bait."
