“What’s the point of being disingenuous?” I ask. “We both know where we stand.”
“Hostility is so ugly, so unnecessary. We’re both adults. We can talk things out, can’t we?”
“Cut the shit, Belov,” I hiss. “Where’s my son?”
“Oh, don’t worry. He’s with me. Safe and sound.”
“I assume you called because you want to negotiate.”
“Negotiate?” Belov repeats. “With the man who took down two of my buildings in a matter of seconds?”
“I warned you.”
“You did,” he says after a small pause. “And if I had suspected you were serious, I would have warned you: I’m an artist and revenge is my medium.”
I roll my eyes, but bite my tongue. Belov isn’t wrong. He has my son, and I don’t want to poke the bear.
“Then what’s this about?” I ask.
I wonder if Belov is alone right now or if Ariel is right there beside him. It’s comforting to know that the person he trusts most is a person whose allegiance lies with me. I long for the day I can rub that in his face.
“I think it’s about time we meet,” Belov says. “Face to face.” He knows I can’t turn him down.
“Name the time and place.”
He rattles off some details, none of which trigger any alarms in my head.
“Fine,” I grunt when he’s finished.
“See?” he croons. “So much nicer when we act civilized. I do look forward to seeing you, Don Solovev.”
“Civility is for cowards,” I snap. “I don’t have the time or the patience for it.”
He sighs, feigning disappointment. “Sometimes, I wonder how a man like you managed to gain such a loyal following. You’re not exactly charismatic.”
“Noted.”
“Now, your pretty little wife, on the other hand… She’s someone I would love to get to know better. I do hope you bring her when we meet.”
“You must not have learned your lesson last time, Belov.”
“And what lesson is that?”
“Anyone who touches her dies.”
I slam the phone down, huffing furiously. My fists are balled tight and my muscles are tense, ready for battle.
Gaiman rounds the table and sits down in front of me. “Do you think we can trust him?”
I sigh and slump into a seat. “Of course not. But we can’t reject the invitation. It’s the best opportunity we have to get close to him.”
“And Pasha?”
“He’s not going to bring a baby to a Bratva meeting.”
Gaiman shrugs. “I wouldn’t discount it. Fucker is insane.”
“Ariel is there now,” I point out. “She’s going to make sure nothing hurts Pasha.”
“How sure are we that her identity is secure?”
“She’s been at his side for years,” I point out. “If Belov suspected anything, she would already be six feet under.”
“Fair point,” Gaiman concedes. “Are you going to tell Willow?”
“I have to. But she’s not coming with me.”
“I bet she fights you on that.”
“I bet you’re right.”
I leave Gaiman to sort out details of the upcoming meeting while I head back outside to where Willow is waiting for me. My men have cordoned out a section for us just behind the cabin, where they’ve cleared the snow so that we have a flat, dry surface to work on.
I expect to find Willow resting when I get there, but instead, she’s down in the snow doing push-ups.
Her body is tight. The all-black, skin-tight sweat suit she’s wearing highlights her new muscle. She doesn’t stop the push-ups even when she notices me.
After she hits fifty, she twists around and sits on the cold, packed earth.
“Everything alright?” she asks.
“Good enough.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Gaiman looked concerned when he called you in.”
“Did he?”
She narrows her eyes, clearly annoyed with my evasiveness. “Is there a reason you’re being sketchy?”
“I’m not.”
“Leo.”
“Willow,” I counter, “you should have been resting. We’re not done with our training session.”
“I didn’t think we were. But that was how I rest.”
“Are you trying to impress me?”
She gives me a sly smile, but under no circumstances do I believe she’s been distracted. Her gaze skims over my body. “Aren’t you cold?”