So I turned in the seat and told her everything that had happened since I’d left Moscow. That I still wanted her. And that a declaration of love seemed ill-timed when she might question the authenticity of the emotion, wondering if the sentiment had been influenced by the presence of a gun.
She chuckled.
“And you, White Crow,” I whispered, finding it hard to believe I was smiling at her and she was smiling at me, “why are you here?”
“I needed to know,” she said. “And I thought I might kill you for sport.”
“Is honesty not wonderful?”
“I wish I could be completely honest with you. But so much has changed. I made some hard decisions.” She ran her tongue across her lips and my mind drifted to a much warmer place and time.
In Moscow.
In Nadezhda’s room.
No matter how many ways I took apart her expression, measured the aspects and points creating her face, I couldn’t break it down far enough to forget that this woman was the one I still loved.
“We all make bargains, da?” she confided. “Little moves to secure our own happiness—and safety. And sometimes we make big moves. Betray those closest.” She shook her head and straightened in her seat. “But this is not all pleasure. You came for business. There are things you requested. There is information you need.”
“And you?”
“—are what we shall call an enabler.” She smiled.
Oddly, the least amount of time spent in that carriage was spent on guns, passports, and getting the name of places to purchase pigs’ blood.
“Oh. Alexi, be careful. We have news there is someone in your area who may be getting ready to make a big move of his own. He wants an oborot for a captain.”
My heart dropped into my gut.
“Watch out for him.”
I nodded. “Da. And you,” I whispered, stepping out of the carriage. “Watch out for you.”
She smiled and pulled the door closed, but not before I got one more glimpse of her shoes. The red soles were unmistakable. But so was the amount of wear on them.
Nadezhda had been doing far more than walking comfortable red carpets and hanging with the trendy friends who used to take up most of her time.
The carriage took off, leaving me to find my way back to the more brightly lit areas of the park and transportation home.
I jumped when I heard something in the bushes groan, and my hand went to my gun.
“Uhhh. Crazy bitch.”
I stepped back, hugging the shadows as Pietr and Max did so expertly and watched a man crawl backward out of the bushes and struggle to his feet.
He dusted off his tracksuit and reached back under the shrubs, looking for something. Dragging his cell phone free of the park’s dirt and debris, he made a call. He plucked a leaf from his slicked-back hair and then returned his hand to his head, his face twisting in pain. “Da. Your baby’s here. But she’s not your baby anymore. Da. She reeks of Interpol.”
Nadezhda? Interpol?
Bargains and betrayals, she’d said.
I looked down at the case I held. As long as the merchandise worked, I did not care who was selling it. I needed it to free Mother.
And probably to save Pietr.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jessie
Although the new room looked nearly identical to my old one, there were significant perks that kept me hanging out inside it more frequently. No camera equated to less paranoia—at least as long as I stayed in. And the fact I could press a button that buzzed the nurses’ station to let me out made it seem like I had a choice. Fred and Jeremy seldom shadowed me anymore, but it seemed they were kept busy by the continuing population boom at Pecan Place.
I tried to steer clear of all of it. I kept my head down, my eyes and hands to myself, and waited on my rescue. When it finally came, I was unprepared. But when I heard Dad’s voice raised in anger, I headed straight out of the common room and toward the commotion. “I was told when her room got changed her visitation privileges were upgraded.”
The nurse muttered a response.
“So call Dr. Jones,” he demanded.
Hand on the phone, the nurse said, “Dr. Jones isn’t in the office, sir. She’s unavailable.”
And that was when I saw Pietr. I froze, motionless as a deer spying its hunter, my heart racing at least as fast. He looked at me and Dad’s words faded to a jumbled mess of nothing.…
“Then you need to make the right decision. I don’t want to drive all the way home.…”
… like background noise—static.
And before I really understood what was happening, Dad had somehow gotten the nurse to open my room and let the three of us, Pietr, Dad, and myself, inside.
“Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god!” I launched myself straight into Pietr’s arms.
He held me for a long, quiet moment, his face in my hair, breathing in the scent of me as the stress left his back and shoulders little by little. “Shhh,” he soothed. “Jess, we don’t have much time.”
“Dammit, Pietr, we never have much time. Kiss me.”
Dad cleared his throat.
“It’s not like you haven’t seen people kiss before,” I protested.
“Not my daughter.”
Grumbling, I moved away from Pietr’s embrace, letting my hand slip into his.
I held on.
Dad sat on the edge of my bed, the springs groaning faintly. “This boy of yours,” he muttered, “is saying some pretty crazy stuff. He would not take no for an answer when he showed up on our doorstep this morning. And he would not tell me where he’s been all this time.”
“Where were you?”
“Later.” He grabbed my other hand and stared down into my eyes. “You’re in danger, Jess.”
I blinked. “Seems it’s my normal.”
“Pietr insists someone in here is trying to kill you,” Dad said with a snort. “I told him the food’s probably awful and I’m sure not Dr. Jones’s biggest fan right now, but kill you?”
“There’ve been some—dangerous—situations,” I confirmed. “But I thought I had it under control.”
Dad gaped. “Why didn’t you say…?”
“There’s only so much guilt a body can handle, Dad,” I explained, keeping my focus on Pietr. “You’re at your limit. And I wanted to believe I was safe.…” Untouchable.
“Well, why the hell would anyone want to kill my girl?” Dad muttered, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t understand.…” He shook his head. “And why now?”
“No camera,” Pietr said, glancing back toward the door. “They could make it look like a suicide. No one would know the truth.” He paced slowly around the room, his eyes pausing on the ceiling’s heavy lighting fixture.
I saw what he was wondering: How they’d do it. Hanging? Damn fluorescents. There were even more reasons to hate fluorescent lights.
Pietr saw my journal on my bed and picked it up, examining the pen first. His thumb flicked the metal spiral holding it together, his features registering sharp.
He looked at my arms. My wrists. I rubbed them frantically, looking away from Pietr’s cool and grimly assessing gaze. His eyes were somehow different, more calculating and distant.
I wondered if Derek was in the loop about the plans they had for his pet and favorite battery? Was he—even now—arguing to save me out of his own twisted sense of need?
I shivered at the thought and reached out for Pietr’s hand again, turning back to face Dad.
“But, why?” Dad pushed. “Have you done something, Jessie?”
“No, Dad. I am something.” I tried to choose my words carefully. “What if I said there’s something in my blood that can help certain people”—I squeezed Pietr’s hand—“and other people don’t want them to get that help?”
Dad looked up, bleary eyed. “I’d need—I’d need more than that, Jessie. Something in your blood? You aren’t even O negative, and that’s the one everyone wants for blood drives … uni
versal donor…” He began to babble.
So that was where I got it from.
I dragged Pietr forward and crouched before Dad, unwilling to release Pietr now he was here but feeling the need to set my hand on Dad’s knee, to reassure him.
Pietr crouched beside me.
“Dad. Dad.”
He looked at me again.
“There’s something you don’t know … something big. I never wanted to drag you into this, but…” I shook my head and looked at Pietr. Lost.
Pietr let out a long, slow breath. “Mr. Gillmansen. You know there’s something different about me.”
Dad blinked.
“I’ve seen the way you watched me doing chores. I wasn’t completely careful,” he admitted to me apologetically.
Dad nodded. Slowly. Mute.
“My strength and agility are the results of a Cold War experiment the USSR did several generations ago.”
Dad snorted. “We’re a long way away from April Fool’s, don’t ya’ think?”
“He’s not joking, Dad.”
“They tampered with our DNA—toyed with our genetic code until our predecessors became something.…” Pietr paused and shook his head.
“No,” I whispered to him. “It’s not the right word.”
Pietr looked at me. “But it’s the clearest one.”
“Wait,” Dad broke in. “You became something what?”
“Something monstrous,” Pietr said so levelly a chill stroked my spine.
“Look. You’re fast. You’re strong,” Dad admitted. “But there’s nothing monstrous about you,” he insisted, his jaw set.
Pietr and I exchanged a look. Some people needed to see to believe. Pietr let go of my hand and stood, peeling off his shirt.
“What the hell is he doin’—” Dad asked, each word hanging in the air like a bad smell.
“I’ll show you,” Pietr volunteered, his hands working the button on his jeans.
Dad grabbed me, placing his hands over my eyes. His fingers trembled and he blustered on. “Look, boy, I played sports in high school—”
I heard the zipper go on Pietr’s pants.
Dad was rambling. “I’ve seen all sorts—”
Pietr’s jeans rustled, hitting the cool concrete slab floor.
“—of things guys thought were monstrous—”
And then there was the sound of two more things falling softly to the floor and Dad’s hands yanked away from my face just as Pietr’s front paws touched down.
Wolf, he shook out his coat and padded over to me.
Stunned to silence, Dad pulled me away from Pietr and yanked me haphazardly onto the bed beside him.
Pietr’s eyes glittered in his wolfskin, watching and worried.
“Holy. Shit.”
“Dad!”
“No, Jessie. Your mom would allow me this one,” he guaranteed.
I slid off the bed and crouched down, reaching out to Pietr. He padded forward on silent feet and let me wrap my arms around his furry neck and draw his head in to rest on my chest.
“Hey!” Dad warned. “None of that stuff.”
I chuckled.
Pietr whined, but I adjusted our position.
Dad was back.
“Okay. Maybe I just suffered an aneurism or stroked out,” Dad muttered. “There’s a rational explanation for this. Maybe I’m lying in a coma somewhere and this is all just part of it. Weird stuff happens on farms all the time. When was I last messin’ with that combine?”
“Dad. Dad!” I stood, taking his hands in mine. “You’re fine. I’m fine. Pietr’s—” I glanced at the wolf.
He had cocked his head to the side, listening intently.
“Pietr gives fine a whole new definition,” I declared.
Dad looked from me to the wolf. “Can he—?” Dad jumped, his fingers tightening on mine, and I knew that behind my back Pietr had become human again.
“Pants?” I asked, trying to be mindful of Dad’s fragile state and the fact I could wind up grounded as soon as I was out of the asylum.
My normal.
“Da. Pants.”
Pietr was always a moment slow with human logic and remembering appropriate social behavior after he’d just shed his wolfskin. Things like pants were occasionally forgotten in the first moments after the change. I knew. I’d noticed that fact (along with other things) several times. I blushed just thinking about it.
Dad blinked.
Pietr came to stand beside me, shirt still in his hands.
“Shirt, too,” I admonished, though I really didn’t want to. I could spend hours staring at Pietr bare-chested … Pietr grinned in direct opposition to my father’s expression.
“Put your shirt on, boy.”
Pietr reluctantly obeyed.
“Okay. What just happened here?” Dad asked out loud.
Pietr started removing his shirt again, but I placed a hand on his arm. Just touching him made my nerves tingle and my blood rush.
“You sure are quick to strip, boy,” Dad said, clearly disapproving. “Lemme get this straight. He’s a werewolf, and your blood…”
“—is part of the cure.”
Dad stood. “How’d you figure that out?”
“Catherine volunteered to try a concoction…”
“So what? You kids are over at his place one day—after I release you from being grounded—and he says, Hey, I’m a werewolf, but I’d like to be fixed—”
Pietr blinked.
“Oh. Sorry,” Dad muttered, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “Probably not the words you wanna hear. But I wanna be just human and so you—Jessie—what? You open a vein?”
“No, Dad,” I sputtered, trying not to laugh. “It’s not anything like that.”
He started to pace. “I always wondered what you teenagers would be doin’ together,” he admitted. “But this … I figured, underage drinkin’—Jessie’ll say no. Drugs? Jessie’ll turn ’em down flat,” he said with assurance. “Premarital sex?” Dad spun on his heel, staring us both down.
Pietr shifted his weight from foot to foot, staring at the floor. My alpha male had just been reduced to a puppy who’d imagined piddling indoors.
“She’d. Say. No.” Dad ground out each word. “But bloodletting? That’s a new one. Hadn’t given it a moment’s thought.” Dad shook his head and paced some more. He froze.
“Were you in his room to do this?” he asked, deceptively softly. I imagined smoke pouring from his ears as the gears in his brain sputtered off track a moment.
Dad sometimes got like this, not seeing the forest for the trees. As sole guardian of two daughters—and an admitted “red-blooded American male” back in the day—Dad focused on location so much sometimes he should have gone into real estate.
To be in a guy’s room—alone—was a huge taboo. Right up there with setting crosses on fire and leaving the milk out.
My normal.
I sighed.
I looked at Pietr. Absolutely no help. Was I in his room to do the bloodletting? Why, no, I wasn’t. I was in his room several other times—even slept in his bed one night (while Pietr sprawled on the floor)—but I wasn’t there for the bloodletting.
“No. I wasn’t.” Sweet, sweet honesty. So rare recently in my life.
Dad sighed. “So your blood’s part of this cure and someone doesn’t want them cured, so they want you out of the mix.”
“Literally,” I added.
“Who?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I mean—which lines had blurred and which were crossed while I’d been inside? If Wanda was agreeing with Pietr about getting me out … “It’s complicated.”
Pietr nodded. “More now than ever,” he said, a new note of regret in his voice.
Dad looked at us. “I just keep thinking this is all some strange dream. Any minute I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal.”
“Try defining normal sometime, Dad. I can’t find any suitable words to do it myself anymore.” I clos
ed my eyes a moment, taking it all in and knowing all I wanted was out. “So how do I get out of here?”
“I can’t get you out today. Dr. Jones isn’t here and she’d need to sign any legal stuff I could get the lawyer to fudge. But I can’t leave you here, either. Wait,” he whispered. “If your blood’s part of a cure … what about Anna’s?”
The blood turned to an icy slush in my veins. My snooping and far-too-smart-for-the-good-of-her-social-status little sister Annabelle Lee was a logical second choice, considering we shared the same genetics. If they wanted me because my blood could screw up their experiments, when would it occur to them to check her, too?
“Call Alexi. Have him run a test,” I urged. “And watch her, Dad. Watch everyone around her.”
“Thank God Christmas break’s just around the corner,” he said. “We can try and figure all this out together then—watch each other’s backs.”
Pietr nodded. “When do the nurses change shifts?”
“In about twenty minutes,” I answered.
“Mr. Gillmansen. In twenty-five minutes you’ll walk out of this door and head to the nurses’ station, ready for home. When they ask where I am, tell them I left a few minutes ahead of you. They’ll check the sign-out sheet. Tell them I was in a hurry and the nurse was pretty scattered from an earlier situation. Be apologetic. Explain Jess broke up with me before I stormed out. It broke my heart,” he concluded, his eyes drifting back to mine.
“Pietr,” I whispered, astonished. “You’re lying.” I couldn’t believe my ears. Lying was almost the one thing Pietr Rusakova couldn’t do.
“I’ve had to learn a few things since I last saw you.” Guilt again crept into his voice.
Dad nodded. “And you?”
“Will sleep here tonight,” Pietr said simply. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“In. Her. Room?” Dad snapped.
Oh boy.
“Seriously, Dad, let’s prioritize, okay? Someone wants to kill me. Pietr’s my best chance at protecting me. There’s no other place to stash him but here. In my room.”
Pietr eyed my bed.
“I don’t like the way you’re lookin’ at that,” Dad mumbled.
Pietr ignored him and stepped over to the mattress, playing with the sheets so they hung down to the ground. He crouched, sweeping the sheets back up and eyeing the space underneath the bed as if measuring it. “I’ll sleep there,” he said so firmly there could be no argument.