I arched a brow at her. “Of course.” Then I shook my head when I saw she didn’t believe me. “Honey, you weren’t old enough to want to sneak out yet. You’d have found them in time.”
“I wouldn’t have dared anyway,” she whispered, and when I looked at her, I saw that.
She was an odd combination of spitfire and prim. Even though Father was dead, she still wore her pearls and a smart blouse and skirt, kitten heels too, but I knew, that when it came to it, she’d have the guts to stand up for herself.
Which made me think of the church.
“Why didn’t you fight them, Vicky? I saw you face off with Brennan. Why did you just let them take you?”
She gulped. “I froze up.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to accuse you—”
“Why not? I would. I’ve been sitting here ever since they dumped us in this place, wondering why I didn’t fight. Inessa got away. Maybe if I’d managed to slip out, we could have...” Her voice waned off. “I’m such a wimp. As useless as Papa used to say.”
“No, you’re not. You were naturally scared,” I defended her. “You’re only a kid, Vicky. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just know what you’re like. Beneath the Jackie-O clothes, you’re as much of a wildcat as Inessa is.”
She bowed her head. “I’m not, Cammie. Inessa has guts. I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” I argued, then heaving a sigh, accepting that she’d been sinking deeper and deeper into a pity party the longer she’d been left with her thoughts, I muttered, “Is there a way out of here?”
Her scowl made a reappearance at long last. But give me her exasperation over her fear any day of the week. “Cammie, we’re in a ten-by-ten room. There are walls, a window, and a door. Unless you’re a magician, then no, there isn’t a way out. Far as I know, you didn’t turn into Houdini while you were away.”
“Houdini was an escapologist,” I muttered absently as I got to my feet. “Not a magician. More of an illusionist to be fair.”
She grunted under her breath at my reply, but left me to it.
The window was about two feet above my head so some light filtered in but I couldn’t see out. There were bars and, from the slightest of glints, I thought there was broken glass on the outer ledge too.
I didn’t bother with the door. I knew there’d be a guard, and if not a guard, then a lot of locks to which I had no key.
Taking a couple steps further back, I tried to see if there was anything in the skyline that would confirm we were in the Bushwick compound, but I didn’t notice jack. Nothing except for some trees which sheltered us enough that it would get darker sooner in this place.
My head ached, my face did too from that nasty slap I’d gotten, and my stomach muscles were twinging from the moves I’d pulled back there—me and body weight exercises were not the best of friends—but I was alive, I knew Inessa was safe, had faith that Brennan would come for us, and I had to protect Victoria in the interim.
With my heart whirring like it was a merry-go-round on triple speed, I paced, moving from one corner to the next, only avoiding Vicky who was huddling up again like a little tortoise. I hated that she was in this position, hated, even more, that it was easy to revert to those moments when Mama had been killed.
We’d made it to the safe room.
She hadn’t.
The panic, the fear, the heart-pounding tension was all the same, but somehow, I knew I was more scared now than I had been back then because Vicky was in danger and I couldn’t protect her.
This felt like a safe room, but we were the opposite of that. Cloistered in here, no one could get to us—apart from the person who had the key.
Abramovicz.
Was there a reason he’d brought us to this compound?
This wasn’t the main one. Those were in Brighton Beach. And where was Maxim in all this? Though only aboyevikby rank, Maxim had been a trusted guard of my father’s. He’d been in the right position to listen in, to gain influence. To muscle in on a rank that should be out of his reach.
In times like these, fortune favored the brave where the Bratva was concerned. Might being right, if he seized power and held it, he could go from holding a low rank to climbing to the top of the tree. Getting higher ranks to bend the knee was another matter entirely, but that was the problem with being king—there were enemies everywhere.
Was that why we were here? Because Maxim had overtaken Brighton Beach and our old home?
The Pakhan’s Two Spies were his money man and his security man. Abramovicz was the former and Basil Lukov was the latter. Neither had been very popular with the men... It would make more sense for the two of them to be infighting over who’d be the next Pakhan, but Maxim didn’t want to marry Victoria because he was in love with her. He wanted what her name represented. He wanted to marry up.
He had goals.