Page 148 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

“We found the transport entry. Meridian Community Transport logged a scheduled pickup for tomorrow at four-ten. Side entrance of the art program. Passenger listed as Ivan Morozov. Authorized contact: Kornelya Orlov.”

Tamara’s grip tightens on my hand. Not theory anymore.

Schedule. Entrance. Pickup.

“The Meridian vehicle?”

“Still parked. They’re waiting for tomorrow afternoon.”

I look toward the dark window over the sink. The coffee shop across from the school. The side entrance. The car. Anna arriving frightened and furious. Ivan with a backpack and an art folder, not understanding why the wrong woman knows his name.

“Set before dismissal,” I tell Yuri. “Coffee shop across from the school. One team on the main entrance, one on the side, one on the vehicle. No one touches Ivan unless Kalinin’s people force contact first.”

“Understood.”

“And Anna?”

“Watch the house in the morning. If she gets a call, we intercept the path and notify you.”

“No,” Tamara says.

Yuri looks at her. So do I.

“If Anna gets a call,” she says, “I hear it too.”

There is no tremor in her voice now. I look back at Yuri. “She hears everything.”

He nods. “Everything.”

When he leaves, the kitchen seems smaller.

Tamara turns toward the window, but there is nothing to see except darkness and her own reflection in the glass. I step behind her and set my hands on her shoulders.

“Your hands are still shaking.”

“I know.”

She says it like it’s an inconvenience, like her body has failed to meet the standard she set for it. I slide my palms down her arms until I can cover her fingers with mine.

“Come to bed.”

“All right.”

I lead her to the first-floor bedroom Yuri had set aside for us. A corner lamp throws soft shadows over a room furnished with the efficiency of a temporary safe house: king bed, white covers, one chair, no personality. Nothing in it belongs to either of us.

Maybe that is for the best.

We undress in silence.

Tamara moves as if she has forgotten I have eyes. Sweater. Trousers. One piece after another dropped over the chair until she is standing in front of me in only her underwear, her blond hair loose over one shoulder, brushing the curve of her breast.

My body forgets everything except the fact that she is my wife and nearly naked in front of me.

Then I remember tomorrow.

The school.

The car.