“Hey,” she mumbles quietly, nervously.
I pause at the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Anxious, worried, hopeful,” she rattles off. “Did you look into who this Dominik person might be? Do you think he has Polly? Do you know where you can find him?”
I put the tray down on her bedside table and force her to lean back down on the pillows. “You need to take a deep breath and drink some tea.”
She takes the cup I hold out distractedly, but she makes no move to sip from it. “I don’t want tea.”
“Drink it anyway.”
“Uri—”
“I’m working on it, okay? I’m not sure who this Dominik is but I’m going to find out. We’ll get Polly back, I promise you that.”
With that promise secured, she takes a sip of the tea. “You haven’t slept all night, have you?”
“I need to strike while the iron is hot.”
She sighs and puts her cup down so she can grab my hands. “I’m worried about you. You need to rest. This isn’t healthy, Uri.”
“When I sleep, I dream. So I’d rather avoid it.”
“Come here.” She pulls me onto the bed in front of her with my back to her face. Then she pulls off my shirt and starts massaging me, starting from my shoulders and working her way down to my back. Her hands are small and cool on my skin and not strong enough to make much of a dent in the deep-seated knots tying me up. But it feels good nonetheless. To let myself sit here and do nothing, to let my eyes flutter closed while she pours her love into me, one fingertip at a time.
Eventually, my eyes start to tire. She coaxes me onto my side and slips in front of me.
“Alyssa…”
“Shh,” she croons hypnotically. “You’ve been taking care of me. Now, it’s my turn to take care of you. Just rest. I’m here. I’m right here.”
27
URI
The few hours of sleep I manage to get after Alyssa’s hands work their magic does wonders. I feel the most alert, the most capable, the strongest I’ve felt in a while. My thoughts are clear and focused. My determination is as steely as ever.
We’re going to bring my sister home.
While Alyssa is upstairs spending time with Lev, I pore over every bit of information my team has managed to dig up on Sobakin and both Dominiks.
The more I read up on Evanoff, the less I believe he has anything to do with Sobakin or Polly’s capture. In fact, there might even be some enmity between him and Boris based on a few deals gone south involving the two men’s respective organizations. Sobakin has burned a few too many bridges in his lifetime, it seems.
When my phone pings, I reach for it absentmindedly.
DIMIV: Call now.
The blood rushes to my fingers as I rush to dial him. He answers immediately. “Two things. Dominik Evanoff is not your man. There’s bad blood between them, lots of it. It looks like Sobakin was responsible for the deaths of Evanoff’s father and uncle.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. What’s the second thing?”
“I looked into Boris’s dealings in Moscow. One of my hackers managed to get a record of wire transactions made from Boris’s account to an offshore account linked to a woman living right here in Moscow. Elena Chernoff is her name.”
My body is pinging with adrenaline. I get out of my seat and start pacing, bearing down the same track Nikolai wore into my carpets last night. “Doesn’t ring a bell. But she has to mean something to Sobakin if he’s providing for her.”
“It’s not her he’s providing for,” Dimiv clarifies. “It’s her ten-year-old son. Artem. There’s no father listed on his birth certificate, but I got a look at a picture of the boy a short while ago. If Sobakin isn’t the daddy, you can go ahead and shoot me between the eyes.”
Yes. Fucking yes.
“Dimiv Bugrov, I owe you one. Several, actually.”
“That’s what family is for, cousin.”
“Keep digging. I’ve got business to take care of on this end.”
The moment I hang up, I fly out of my office and towards the shed. Alan squeals and hides under his blankets when I kick the cell door open.
Sobakin, on the other hand, offers me an ugly smile. “You should know by now—I won’t talk.”
“Not even for Artem?”
The moment his name is out of my mouth, Boris’s head snaps up. The smile melts off his face and his eyes look watery. The fear on his face is evident.
It’s the sweetest thing I’ve seen all day.
“Don’t you dare touch a hair on his head!”
I smile coldly. “You’re in no position to be making demands of me, Boris.”
Boris grinds his teeth. “You want to know who I sold your sister to?” he asks of his own accord. “I’ll tell you: Dominik Drozdov. But that’s as far as my knowledge goes. She was sold to him and that’s where I lost track of her.”
“What was her life worth?” I snarl. “How much did you sell her for?”
Boris shakes his head. “It was never about the money. I would have sold her for nothing if it meant watching you suffer.”
I probably should ask where this personal vendetta of his comes from. But I’m too angry to care. I settle on beating him senseless, until his head bobs on his neck, barely still attached. Then I walk away, leaving the broken shell of the man behind me.
I so desperately want to end his life right now, but I restrain myself. His corpse will be of no use to me. But he still might be.
Without even bothering to wipe the blood off my hands, I send texts to both Dimiv and Kruger, letting them both know that Drozdov is the man we’re looking for. Then I head to my bedroom to shower off Sobakin’s blood.
I’m stripping off my clothes when Alyssa walks in. Her eyes go wide as she sees the blood on my hands.
“It’s not mine,” I explain before she can ask.
That doesn’t seem to comfort her as she ventures closer. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fucking golden, Alyssa.” I turn to look at her, grinning. “I know who has Polly.”
She gasps, her eyes going round. “Really?”
“The lead you gave me—Dominik—it panned out.”
Relief floods her face. “Oh, thank God!” She immediately grabs her charm bracelet like it’s a string of prayer beads. “Thank God!”
She follows me to the bathroom and watches as I wash the blood off in the sink. When I turn off the water, she steps to my side and reaches up to touch the side of my face. She draws back her hand and I notice a fleck of blood on her thumb.
“It’s everywhere…” she whispers.
“How about you help me get clean?”
I don’t wait for her to respond; I just start stripping her slowly. She stands there, watching me watch her. I make sure the water streaming from the shower faucet is warm before I pull her in with me. Her body looks ripe and perfect. The soft swell of her belly, the juicy fullness of her breasts—she looks like Venus coming out of her seashell.
Her hands float over my body the same way they did this morning. Except this time, she lathers me up, rubs the soap into my body before rinsing it off again. By the time she’s finished, I’m rock hard and ready to plunge myself into her.