Consequence

  He sat down on the edge of his neatly made bed and leaned back on his hands.

  “Is someone living here?” I asked, noticing how the towels were hung expertly just inside the master bathroom.

  “I’m paying someone to clean it.” His tone was melancholy, tired, filled with tension.

  Nodding, I didn’t know what else to say. “I’ll be quick.”

  He grabbed my hand as I moved to walk past him and spread his legs so I landed in between them. “Do you want to sleep?”

  His eyes were heavy, lined with the need for rest. I gazed down at him, and found my finger tracing the curve of his cheek. “I can’t. I know that I need to, but I’m too wired.”

  He pulled me closer, splaying his hands on the backs of my thighs. His palms were hot against the fabric of my jeans and I shivered at the possessive, familiar touch. “Getting in to see them is going to be easy, but it’s going to be a shit storm when we walk out.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m going to set up what I can to keep you safe, to get Juliet back, and to get you out of town, but I can’t begin to predict what they’re going to ask of you.”

  “You’ll stay with me?” My voice was a whisper, a plea. I wanted to believe I could do this on my own, but the reality was I couldn’t do anything without Sayer by my side. I couldn’t face this without him. I was worthless without him there to protect me, to guide me, to remind me what was important and what I should stay focused on.

  Maybe I had always been that way.

  “If I can.” His admission was a cold dose of reality. The bosses would obviously separate us. We were strong together, a unified front. That would be the last thing they wanted.

  They needed us weak and broken.

  They needed us vulnerable.

  As if having my daughter wasn’t enough to gut me open.

  Cupping his jaw with my trembling hands, I held his face in front of mine. “Whatever happens in there… I need you to remember… I never stopped loving you, Sayer.”

  He started shaking beneath my touch. His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he struggled to swallow and the grip on my legs tightened. But instead of returning the sentiment, he said, “Get ready, Six. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

  Standing up abruptly, he pushed past and left the room. The door slammed shut behind him, shaking the walls and the very core of me. I stared at the door for three long minutes, deciding what to do next, deciding what to say next.

  I had been hoping to see behind his mask for just a short second, to see some semblance of truth and honesty. I had been hoping to soothe my wounded heart and gather some of my shattered pieces. I had needed to hear him say the words as much as I had needed to say them. And instead… I got nothing.

  In the end, I blamed my confession on lack of sleep and heightened emotions. I shouldn’t have said that to him.

  I shouldn’t feel that for him.

  He could rest assured I wouldn’t make that mistake again. Lesson learned.

  Ignoring what had happened and the stammering of my heart, I threw myself into getting ready and we left the apartment thirty minutes later with Cage. In a little over an hour, I would be face to face with the pakhan again. Only this time I would be threatening them.

  Chapter Eight

  The DC Central Detention Center was not that different from Allenwood where Sayer had been held—my only other reference as far as holding facilities went. Sure, on the outside they were structurally different, but inside everything felt the same. Dark, grimy, void of hope.

  At least at Allenwood I had been looking forward to the visitation. It had been agony to be separated from Sayer. Those few hours spent in the visitation room were what I lived for. Until I had something more important to live for.

  Central didn’t hold that same kind of coveted promise. I wasn’t visiting someone I loved. I was being forced to meet with people I hated. And not just any people, the head of the once-powerful Russian mafia syndicate. They weren’t just dangerous by nature, they likely wanted my head on a stick.

  Sayer had driven us the hour across town battling heavy traffic in the car he kept in storage. He’d had it brought over to him by the kid he paid to drive it once in a while and make sure it stayed in excellent condition. It was a glossy black muscle car that roared to life and made all the vroom vroom sounds you’d expect it to. The ride hadn’t been overly difficult, but nonetheless, it had left me carsick and doubting.

  For someone that had supposedly shed his DC life, Sayer had held onto a lot of things from his past. And paid people to regularly take care of them.

  We’d left Cage with the car and entered the lion’s den together. My hand shook as I wrote Caro Valero on the sign-in binder meant for lawyers and law officers. My signature had been shaky and unpracticed, blurring the letters together and trailing off awkwardly at the end. I scowled at the paper and wished I could take it back.

  Caroline Baker was much safer. Even if the whole world knew by now that it was my alias, I felt less exposed with it, less outed.

  The officer in charge of the front desk, glanced down at the sheet and then at my face. “You’re here to see the Volkov?”

  Instinctively, I knew he was on their payroll. My head flared with intuition like the first flame of a lit candle. He said their name with too much respect for his side of the law. He sized me up with too much wariness. Even still, his comment surprised me. “They’re all here?”

  He nodded in a way that made me feel stupid for asking. I didn’t know a ton about the sentencing process, but I felt that keeping three of the worst criminals in the DC area together in the same place was asking for trouble.

  “You’ll have to go in one at a time,” the guard told Sayer and me.

  “We’re going to meet them all at once?” This was ludicrous to me, totally insane. They had been held without bail. The judge that tried them hadn’t been willing to give them a chance to escape. Fine, they were still waiting on trial and sentencing, but that didn’t make them less dangerous. The management at this jail, no matter how corrupt, couldn’t actually let them in a room together.

  “One at a time,” the officer repeated.

  I shared a look with Sayer. The few times I’d visited him at Allenwood had been in a large room where all of the inmates met with their family during visitation hours. Guards had been strategically placed inside and outside of the room. There was little to no privacy and if the guards weren’t listening to our conversation, the other prisoners were.

  And most importantly, the entire block of time was recorded on surveillance cameras.

  I got the sinking feeling this was going to be a private meeting. We wouldn’t have the luxury of security cameras.

  That was nice for my anonymity. Bad if they decided to shank me on sight.

  We walked through metal detectors and then suffered through an aggressive pat down. Two guards led us through a maze of hallways until we reached a private visitation room. Another guard stood in front of the closed door.

  “Ladies first,” the original officer said, his lips lifting with a cruel smile.

  “I’m not going in without him.” I reached back for Sayer’s hand. He gave it to me, but also stepped behind me and wrapped an arm around my waist, an extra layer of protection. His stance sent a clear message, one the guards didn’t seem to care about in the least.

  “You go in alone or not at all,” the guard countered casting a dismissive glance at Sayer’s defensive hold.

  Well, hell, he had me there. I couldn’t not go in. Not going in would mean losing Juliet. This was my chance to get her back. And I would do anything to get her back. But I hated the idea of facing the bosses alone. I hated the idea of going near anyone Russian alone, of risking my fragile freedom for this one meeting.

  I swallowed around a fist-sized lump in my throat and reluctantly asked the question that would expose my fear. “Are they… locked up?”

  “No.”

  Damn it.


  “I’m right here,” Sayer murmured in my ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you. If I need to get in that room, I will, Six. You can trust me.”

  I believed him. The conviction in his voice pierced through me, my body responding to the truth wrapping each of his words. I leaned back into him, siphoning as much of his calming confidence as possible.

  I’d lived a lifetime committing misdeeds. I’d broken into countless government properties and private houses. I’d stolen priceless heirlooms and rare gemstones and jewelry. My personal collection of stolen goods was worth millions. I’d been around thieves, murderers, drug kingpins and all manner of criminals my entire life. This was just one more meeting… one more uncomfortable situation I could bullshit my way through.

  Remembering the worst of my deeds and the scariest of my jobs, I let adrenaline work through my body, my blood, my bones. I let it turn my nerve to steel and my fear to courage. The pakhan were not a new enemy, and they were not unknown. I knew what to expect from them. I knew how to handle them. And if worse came to worst, I could always lie.

  “I’ll be okay,” I decided.

  “Get our girl then,” Sayer demanded in a low, hoarse voice, strengthening my resolution and giving me the reasons for being here all over again.

  Straightening my spine and wearing my old swagger like a badge of honor, I waited for the guard to open the door. I let go of Sayer’s hand and entered the devil’s lair.

  The room was silent as I walked in, practically oppressive with the heaviness of it. Roman sat in the middle of three chairs that had been positioned to face the doorway. The last five years had been kind to him, he’d gently aged since I’d seen him last. And somehow still managed to be meticulously put together, even in his orange jumpsuit. His dark hair was peppered with gray and deep wrinkles added expressiveness to his eyes and authority to his mouth. As if he needed more of either.

  He sat straight, his shoulders relaxed, his hands folded together and resting on his crossed legs. He looked more like he belonged in a boardroom than this cement-walled, poorly lit room.

  Dymetrus sat to his left and Aleksander to his right. They too boasted their five years with an obnoxious refinement that was too cultured for this place. Aleksander’s hair was almost entirely dark brown, except where it had started to gray around his sideburns. His beard had started to pepper too. His thin-framed glasses finished off his look, making him appear more civilian than criminal. He was well on his way to a silver fox.

  Silver fox in an orange jumpsuit.

  Dymetrus still looked like the youngest brother he was. His dark hair was still thick and artfully unkempt and his muscles still bulky and too big for the tight prison shirt he’d been assigned. He would always be the muscle in the group, the fist that would crush every enemy, every theat.

  I was both to these men now. I was their enemy. I was the threat that they would not tolerate.

  The guards shut the door behind me and I jumped at the echoing sound bouncing off the too-close walls. The corners of Dymetrus’s mouths lifted in a half smile. “They’ve let a ghost inside, brothers.”

  “No, moy bratik,” Roman chided. “She only wishes she was a ghost.”

  He was not wrong.

  I held my chin high and waited for the point of this meeting to be spoken out loud.

  “Do you not have anything to say to us?” Aleksander asked, a snarl curling his top lip. “Hello, Uncle Alek? So nice to see you, Uncle Roman? I’m so very sorry, Uncle Dymetrus, I will never betray your trust again?”

  I made sure my disgust stayed hidden. “I never called any of you uncle.”

  “Would that have helped?” Roman asked in a deceptively gentle voice. “If we had made you feel more like family would you have behaved like the good girl you were raised to be? If we had rescued you from that hovel your father kept and let you live like one of us, would you have given us the respect we deserved?”

  Biting back the urge to laugh, I realized Roman was serious. He was sincerely asking what he did wrong, how he could have prevented my exodus. I couldn’t make myself believe he blamed himself for my disappearance, but it was obvious he wanted the answer to why I left.

  Since he kidnapped my daughter in order to bring me back here, he should already know the answer. “I would never have left my dad. Not for anything.”

  Roman’s expression shifted, darkened. “But you did. You left him.”

  Defensiveness sparked to life inside me. Did they really want my case? Was this a trial of sorts? “Apples and oranges,” I argued. “I didn’t leave him until he gave me no other choice. I tried with him. I stayed with him, I fought for him, I cleaned up his messes and took care of him my entire life. How did he thank me? By turning on me. By threatening me. He left me no other choice.” I took a settling breath. “I would do it all over again, if given the chance.”

  The brothers glanced at each other. “She hasn’t lost her fire,” Aleksander grinned. He turned to me. “We were worried all those years of inactivity would leave you soft.”

  Inactivity… that was a funny word for living a normal, non-criminal life.

  “She’s a mother now,” Roman grimaced, clearly not feeling his brother’s enthusiasm. “She’ll be clumsy, unpracticed. She’s not ready.”

  “She will be ready,” Dymetrus cut in, his Russian accent thicker than his brothers, “Because otherwise, she dies. And the child dies. Now that she’s got that pretty little thing to watch over, I’m going to guess she’s more motivated than ever.”

  I had a million questions, but I knew better than to ask any of them. The one thing that hadn’t changed in the five years since I’d seen them last was how much I hated them. Nothing was beneath them.

  “Look, Roman, the little fox doesn’t like our conversation.”

  Roman flicked a glance at me before I could mask my expression. “See? I told you she’s gone soft. The Caroline Valero we knew before would never have revealed something as simple as her thoughts. She was a machine. A skilled tool that had been sharpened to perfection. Now she is… less than.”

  Righteous anger burned through me, eating away my more careful instincts. “You’re assuming I didn’t want you to see my disgust.”

  Roman’s eyebrows lifted with approval. He didn’t acknowledge my argument though. Instead he pushed the conversation forward. “As far as we’re concerned, you still belong to us.” He held my gaze, unflinching. I matched his stone-cold expression and put up the wall of glamour he expected. “We understand that… certain circumstances occurred in your life that encouraged you to live elsewhere for a time. But the reprieve we allowed you has come to an end. You’re needed at home once more.”

  Home. I couldn’t even reconcile DC with the word anymore. It wasn’t. Not even close.

  “And your plan is to hold my daughter captive until I agree?”

  Roman’s cheek ticked with frustration. His gaze fell to my chest. “You’ve already agreed. You are bratva.”

  My hand landed just above my right breast where the dollar-sized tattoo of an orthodox cross had been inked when I was fifteen years old. “I never agreed to join the brotherhood,” I reminded them. “I was forced into it back then. And you’ll force me into it again if you make me do this now.”

  Dymetrus made a sound in the back of his throat. “And you think we care how we caught you? No, only that we did catch you, foxling. You will do what we ask or you will pay for your freedom with your life.”

  I should have been afraid, terrified. But the fire of fury blazing through my body didn’t leave room for other emotions, especially not weak ones like fear. Fear wasn’t helpful. Fear didn’t offer solutions.

  But I wasn’t stupid enough to ask for death. I still had Juliet to think about. “When do I get my daughter back?”

  Aleksander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking up at me with mischief dancing in his eyes. “You can have her back at the conclusion of our meeting.”

  It couldn’
t be that simple. “You mean if I agree to the job you’ve decided you need me for?”

  The three of them nodded in tandem. “You will do the job. That is not a question,” Roman reminded me. “And your daughter will be yours. We merely took her to show you that we can take her. There is not a place far enough or hidden enough that we cannot find you. You are ours, Caroline. We own you.”

  My breathing stuttered, my lungs forgetting how to work. Fear had pushed the anger aside, rearing its ugly head and crippling my resolve. “And if I run again?”

  Roman sighed. “I wouldn’t advise that foolishness.”

  My heart punched a frantic beat in my chest. “I will not bring my daughter into this world,” I told them, conviction deepening my voice. “I will not abide this world any longer. I got out before. I’ll get out again.”

  Roman’s head tilted to the side, assessing me. “I told you she’s gone soft.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and held it, working to ignore the urge to spit on him. “If soft means safe, then I’m okay with that.”

  Aleksander let out a huff of breath and asked a question that threw me entirely off guard. “Is our niece happy? Where you’re living now, is she… content?”

  The question felt as jarring as having my head banged against the wall. It took longer than it should have for me to answer, but I knew a lot rode on my response. Besides, it wasn’t cut and dry. Was Frankie happy? I didn’t know for sure, but I did know she wasn’t miserable. And she wasn’t constantly living in fear. And she had the potential to be happy. More so than here anyway.

  “She loves her job,” I told them truthfully. “We’ve carved out a nice life for ourselves. A nice, normal life. She doesn’t want to leave it.” I stared him down. “Neither of us do.”

  The three of them sat silently for a short while. Just when I couldn’t take the pressurized quiet for a second longer, Roman lifted his dark eyes and spoke. “The job is this. You will clear our name.”