Midnight Purgatory (Bugrov Bratva #1)(31)

“This one, you mean?” From the pocket of his pants, he pulls out none other than my phone.

The bright orange case winks at me like an old friend. Gasping, I reach for it instinctively but Uri pulls it out of my reach. “You get this phone for the next five minutes.”

My mouth drops open. “What can I do in five minutes?”

“You can text work, friends, and family and let them know that you’re going to be taking a last-minute job in Cuba, where the work will be difficult and the cell service will be unreliable.”

Oh. Shoulda known there’d be serious strings attached.

“You’re covering your bases,” I say, scowling at him.

He smiles serenely. “I’m nothing if not thorough. Now—can I trust you?”

Play the good little hostage, advises the little voice in my head. Do what Ziva would do.

I nod and only then does he hand me my phone. I’m trying to figure out how to send Elle a text that will tip her off without being obvious on the surface of it when his shadow engulfs me.

“Seriously?” I growl, craning my neck towards him. “You’re going to stand over my shoulder and watch? What about returning the favor and trusting me?”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to think that’s the right way to go.”

I end up writing three relatively short texts; one to my parents, one to a publication that I have ongoing work with, and one to Elle.

“Good,” Uri says from over my shoulder. That scotch-cinnamon scent of his is really making me want to step away. “Just add that you’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

“Few weeks?!” I shriek, nearly dropping my phone in the process. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

He’s completely unmoved. “These things take time.”

“You can’t expect me to stay here that long.”

I swivel around on the bar stool to glare at him. That turns out to be a big mistake, because now, I’m face to face with those smoldering aquamarine eyes and he’s got the full force of them aimed directly at me.

“Would you rather be killed in broad daylight?” he demands. “Would you rather walk around looking over your shoulder every time you step out of the house? Would you rather duck and run every time you see a white van pass by? Shadows can kill you before you even realize they’re hiding people inside of them, narushitel. You can let me protect you—my way—or you can fend for yourself against killers you’ll never hear coming.”

Sighing deeply, I close my eyes for a moment. Mostly because I need to get my bearings, but also because I want to escape his gaze. When I open them again, I type what he wants me to type and hand the phone over forcefully.

“There.”

“Thank you.”

I follow him awkwardly back to the door. I can see a huge duffel bag of my things sitting by the foot of the bed.

“That should keep you occupied,” he says, opening the door and putting himself in the threshold. “But just in case you need a little extra entertainment…” He picks up something from the other side of the door. “This should help.”

Uri deposits the package into my hands and I realize a second later why it looks so familiar.

Eve’s Garden.

“Enjoy,” he says with a straight face while my face burns red.

Then he leaves.





18





URI


“We got an ID on the finger.”

I can tell by Nikolai’s grim tone that it is exactly what we suspected it was. “Igor?”

“Igor,” he confirms.

His breathing sounds heavy but I don’t have to ask him what’s going on to know he’s in the gym, working out his frustrations. The year after I took the mantel of pakhan, he practically lived there.

“Can you stop lifting weights and sit still so we can talk?”

I hear something heavy drop and then a second later, his voice comes through loud and clear. “Just for the record, I was doing pull-ups,” he says shortly. “This move has Sobakin written all over it. We have to do something, Uri. We need to go in and get Igor back.”

My gut twists. “This is Boris Sobakin we’re talking about, Nikolai. You and I both know that Igor is already dead.”

“What if he’s not?”

“Then it’s a trap. He’s anticipated that we’ll try to rescue Igor and he’s going to be prepared. All that will lead to is more dead bodies.”

“So your plan is to do nothing?” he asks coldly.

“My plan is to play the long game. This is not about winning the battle; it’s about winning the war. So far, Sobakin has proved himself to be cunning. Brute force isn’t going to help us here.”

“It will be a show of strength! At least he’ll think twice about moving against us.”

“Who are you kidding? He’s already decided he’s gunning for us. Returning fire with fire won’t stop him. What we need to do is lie low and wait for an opportunity to catch him off-guard.”

The silence on the other line is telling. “Is that what you’ve decided?” he asks at last.

“That’s what I’ve decided.”