Aleksandra Barinov, Mikhail’s little sister, is one hundred percent off-limits.
She’s the kind of spice that I enjoy a taste of now and again. And her brother has no idea that we fucked.
Neither does Roberto Moretti, my boss.
The past is best left kept in the past, locked away. It was a long time ago when I was young and foolish, falling into her bed, or rather her shower. We were on vacation and what happens out of the country stays out of the country.
She gave me one wild, insane night with enough fantasies to last a lifetime.
Was it five years ago? Or maybe six when we hooked up?
I can’t remember. I still hear her sweet moans late at night when I’m fast asleep.
Aleksandra can’t notice me because I’m a dead man if she does.
The entire Russian Bratva will be after me, and I’ll never be safe.
* * *
There’s not much time, but we shower and change at a nearby gym that we own, burn our old clothes before arriving at Manhattan Academy. Thankfully, I left my coat in the SUV when we cleaned out the container, or I’d have been forced to burn the leather jacket.
“You ever do one of these jobs?” I ask, staring out the window before slipping on my gloves and stepping out of the vehicle.
“First time,” he admits. He shoves his hands into his pants pockets.
We’re not kidnappers. I sure as hell don’t know the first thing about snatching a kid, other than don’t get caught.
The air is frigid, the sun buried behind the thicket of clouds.
It feels like snow.
Ardian is right beside me, shivering. He is underdressed for the weather. Me, I’m just trying not to bring up breakfast. I’m grateful that I haven’t eaten anything for lunch. Cleaning up dead bodies and blood, I can stomach. But looking into the eyes of a little kid who’s alive and knowing what the fuck to do if he screams, that has me untethered.
I have no intention of harming the boy. And Roberto isn’t stupid enough to kill the kid, just put fear into his uncle.
It’s nearly three in the afternoon. There’s a church bell that rings in the distance, mixed with the wind.
When I’m on the clean-up crew, I don’t worry about planning and preparing. It’s just a matter of not being noticed.
There’s an elegance to being invisible, but having to sneak in and kidnap a child, that involves patience and precision. I don’t have candy or a puppy on hand, something to lure the child into the back of our SUV. And that’s assuming he’s willing to accompany us.
Which means I’ll have to do something more drastic.
If Aleksandra ever discovers what I’m involved in, she’ll never forgive me. I’m not sure I’ll even be able to forgive myself.
When did Don Moretti decide it was okay to kidnap children? Bratva or not, he’s just a kid. The boy can’t help who his family is. From the looks of the picture, he’s, at most, four years old.
Do I want to snatch the boy for Roberto? No, but what other choice do I have? I’ve always followed orders and done what I was told.
Roberto isn’t just my boss. He’s practically my father, having raised me as his son.
Ardian and I canvas the surrounding area around the preschool. There is no surveillance equipment to identify us, making the job easier.
The back door of the preschool opens, and a flood of children rush outside onto the playground. They all wear hats and gloves, thick parkas making it challenging to identify the little boy I’m supposed to nab.
I approach the gate and unclasp the latch. There’s no lock.
Don’t they worry about the children slipping out and running off?