Lying and Kissing (35 page)

There was a particle in the darkness of my mind. Orange-red and glowing, defiantly alight despite the freezing wind that whipped around it. I couldn’t go to sleep until it flickered out and it was taking its sweet time.

That little spark of warmth hadn’t been there, back in the crashed car. It was something new. And the more the coldness pressed in around it, the brighter it burned, until it glowed bright enough that I could see its shape.

Luka.

Insane. A man who hated me. Who never even knew the real me. Who I’d used and betrayed. Who I’d thought of as a monster and tried to change, when the real monster was me. To cling onto his memory was pathetic.
If he was here right now, if he found me like this, he’d probably put a bullet in my brain.

I waited for the spark to go out...but it wouldn’t. Not even the thought that he hated me stopped me loving him.

I didn’t want to see him die. It wasn’t much of a wish, even as deathbed wishes go, but it was all I had. I knew I’d lost him; I knew I was as good as dead myself, from the cold or Luka’s people or Ralavich’s people, if any of them saw me. But I didn’t want to take Luka with me.

The cold was welcoming me with open arms, drawing me down into it. But I couldn’t give myself up to it completely. My love for him wouldn’t let me.

I opened my eyes.

At some point, I’d slumped onto my side. I was half-covered in snow, huddled up against a low concrete wall. The sun had set.

I tried to move and found I couldn’t. Nothing worked. My muscles wouldn’t respond. I lay there like a puppet with her strings cut.

A woman walked past and didn’t even look at me. I was just another passed-out whore sleeping off the drugs, or dead.

I tried to twitch a leg and felt the sick, lurching fear of being paralyzed. My body had completely shut down. My heart had probably slowed so much it had almost stopped, my breathing, too. Anyone finding me would think I was dead. In another few minutes, they’d be right.

I thought of Luka and the ballet and the stateroom on his yacht. Of the restaurant and the ice rink and the party and the way he’d held me that time in the car.

I heaved with every ounce of will I had and my left leg shifted a few millimeters. It felt like lead. And then the pain started, exploding up through my calves and thighs. Every nerve felt as if it was being shredded. But pain was good. Pain meant I was still alive.

It took long minutes, but I managed to roll onto my front and then get to my knees. My legs were too shaky to carry me. The wind was whipping the snow into a full-on blizzard, my clothes plastered white.

I crawled to the edge of the sidewalk and knelt there, my arms held straight up above my head, and prayed a cab would stop. I was about to give up hope when headlights bathed me and an aging Mercedes pulled up. The driver looked at my dress, filthy from lying in the street, and at my snow-soaked hair. He must have wondered whether I was a well-dressed hooker or a debutante who’d been mugged. “You have money?” he asked in Russian.

I had nothing. I’d run out of Vasiliy’s house without my purse. But I was wearing the necklace Luka had given me and I managed to lift it away from my neck to show him.

He grumbled and then got out and lifted me into the back seat of his car. We drove through the streets with the heater on full blast and, gradually, I thawed out. More pain, as the feeling came back, and then the shivering started. I took off the necklace and gave it to him. “Thank you,” I said in English.

He stared at me in surprise. “You American?” he asked in English. He looked again at my bedraggled appearance. “You want go embassy?”

I shook my head. My brain was finally starting to work again. “I want you to take me somewhere there’s a payphone,” I said in Russian. “And I need you to loan me a little money.”

Given that the necklace probably cost more than his car, the cab driver didn’t grumble too much about handing over the equivalent of fifty dollars. He even took me to the taxi company and let me use the phone there and bought me a cup of coffee. It was scalding hot and strong and the best thing I’d ever tasted.

I knew it was no good going through the CIA switchboard—I didn’t exist anymore, to them. But I’d called her at home before and I only need to see a phone number once to memorize it.

“Hello?” said Roberta.

It was the middle of the day, there, and she was at home. That was good for me and almost certainly bad for her.

“I fucked up,” I croaked. I hadn’t been ready for how hard it would hit me. Hearing a familiar voice was a reminder of everything I’d lost. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend I was back in the safe little languages department again.

“
Where are you?!”
Roberta said. Then, just as fast, “No! Wait!”

Seconds ticked by as she thought.

“Stay by the phone,” Roberta said. And hung up.

Thirty seconds later, the phone rang. “OK,” said Roberta. “This is one of my emergency cell phones. Bought it for cash so I’m pretty sure it’s not tapped. Now what the fuck is going on?”

She kept “burner” cell phones around, just for emergencies?!
I’d always thought of Roberta as a mother hen, as comfortable in her safe little world of languages as I was. This was a reminder that she’d been a field agent, once.

“What do you know?” I asked. “What’s happening there?”

Roberta took a deep breath. “Adam says you switched sides and ran off with Luka. Everyone’s been told not to speak to you.
I
shouldn’t be speaking to you. Hell, I’ve been suspended while they investigate!”

“Roberta, that’s not what happened! Adam’s working with Luka’s rivals—I think he has been for years. He tried to get me to kill Luka’s dad. He’s going to have both of them killed.”

Roberta went very quiet. “Do you have any proof?” she asked at last.

I bit my lip. “No. None.”

Silence.

“Do you believe me?!” I begged.

Roberta sighed. “Yes. I knew you were in over your head, but I did’t think you’d betray us.” Her voice hardened. “Jesus...
Adam.
I always hated that prick.”

The tears started. I think it was hearing that she believed me. That
someone
out there was still on my side. “You were right all along,” I whispered. “You tried to tell me. You tried to persuade me not to come. I’m sorry, mom.”

I sniffed and then realized I’d called my boss
mom.
It hung in the air between us, but she was nice enough not to mention it.

“Roberta,” I said, “he’s going to have Luka killed. His dad, too. I have to save them.”

“No. The smartest thing you can do is get far, far away. Get outside Moscow and wait it out. I’ll wire you money—”

“I’m in love with him.”

When Roberta spoke again, her voice was soft. “Arianna—”

I cut her off. “I know it’s wrong, okay?! I know I haven’t known him long enough!
I don’t care!
I know how I feel and I have to save him! Now, are you going to help me or not?”

There was shocked silence for a moment.

“I may have underestimated you, Arianna,” she said, a hint of a smile in her voice. “Okay. What do you need from me?”

***

Roberta had been suspended, but she had enough loyal friends at the CIA that she could get me what I needed: satellite imagery of Vasiliy’s house, earlier that evening. I needed to know if Luka was still there. When she told me that he and Vasiliy had left an hour ago, my stomach contracted into a tight little knot. Vasiliy spent most of his time cooped up in that fortress of a house. Why would he leave it now?

And then it hit me. I’d told Luka that his life was in danger and he had responded with exactly the sort of arrogant swagger that made everyone fear him. He and Vasiliy weren’t going to hole up at home. They were going to go right out in public, where everyone could see them. And with most enemies maybe that bravery would have worked. The gangs kept most of their violence off the radar. Even Ralavich had taken us off to a warehouse to kill us.

But they didn’t realize how determined Adam was, or what levels he’d stoop to.

“Find out where they went,” I pleaded.

Minutes later, Roberta had followed the car to its destination. She said the name of the restaurant and started to give me the address, but I was already running to the cab driver and pleading with him to take me on one more trip. I knew the restaurant. It was where we’d had lunch, our first real date.

I was going to finish this at the same place we’d started it. And I knew there was a very good chance I wouldn’t come out alive.

I’d managed to clean my face up a little. But my dress was still soaking wet, my hair was a tangled mess and my face was almost as white as the snow outside. I saw the doormen hesitate as I walked up the steps to the restaurant.

“I’m with Luka Malakov,” I told them. One of them doubtfully showed me in. I’d told the cab driver to leave me there—however this worked out, it was going to be dangerous and he’d done enough for me.

Luka and Vasiliy were at the same table I’d sat at with Luka—his usual table, I guessed, although something looked different. There was food already on the table and wine, too. The tables around theirs had fallen into a sort of awed hush as people realized who they were sitting close to.

Yuri was standing just a few feet behind them, keeping watch. He spotted me first and said something in Luka’s ear.

Luka had been looking down at his food. Now his head snapped up and he looked right at me. My breath caught in my throat. Even with everything that had gone wrong between us, my heart gave the same lurch and then mad rush that it always did when I saw him. But God, the ice in his eyes, the raw, hot anger that shot across the space between us—it tore me apart.

I put my hand up in front of me. “I’m sorry—”

Luka stood, pushing his chair back so hard it clattered to the floor. He half-turned, reached his hand under Yuri’s jacket and returned holding a gun. A gun he pointed straight at me.

People around me started screaming. For all they knew who Luka was, for all they’d heard about the Brotherhood and their crimes, they didn’t expect to actually see things happening right in front of them. No one would be crazy enough to shoot someone in a crowded restaurant.

But if there was one person powerful enough to do it and get away with it, it was Luka.

“I’m not here to argue with you,” I managed to say. “You need my help.”

“I don’t need you at all.” His accent and anger combined to twist the words. It was almost a snarl.

“
Listen
to me! My old boss was working with Ralavich. He’s going to have both of you killed.”

“He can try,” said Vasiliy quietly. “You should go, Arianna. I’m running thin on reasons not to kill you myself.”

“
Please!
You don’t know him!” I stared at Luka. “I don’t want to see you get hurt!”

“You tried to kill my father! You lied to me!”

“
I’m sorry!”
It was useless. I’d thought that maybe I’d be able to reason with him and persuade him to lie low for a while, but he was far too angry to listen.