He nods. “He can secure his position through that child.”
“Do you think he’ll kill the baby?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It gives him a chance to raise someone in his image.” He pauses for a second, appearing hesitant. But then he adds, “Zoya, on the other hand…”
“Once she’s given birth, she’s of no use to him.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
I frown. “But we can’t prove any of this. We have no idea where he’s keeping her.”
“We won’t be able to track her either. Not with cops crawling all over the city.”
“I don’t suppose we can plug a line into the NYPD, can we?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t have enough men to track right now.”
My face lights up. “But Willow might know. Not where Zoya is, just whether or not Zoya is still alive. You have to get her, Pavel. It’s the only way we can be certain of anything right now.”
He nods. “I agree.”
It’s weird.
We haven’t agreed on much lately. But this? We’re in sync like old times. There’s a moment where he leans forward. His lips part, and his pupils dilate as he closes the space between us. I’m holding my breath while watching him, wondering what he’s about to do.
Is he going to kiss me?
Will Ilethim kiss me?
The kitchen door opens, and Stepan walks inside. He spots us at the table and bows his head, saying, “My apologies, Pavel Sergeyevich.”
Pavel stares into my eyes while speaking to Stepan. “No, it’s all right, Stepan. I need the car.”
“The window is busted.”
“Then I’ll need a new car.”
Stepan nods and ducks out of the room without another sound. Pavel is still staring at me. It feels like he’s still debating a kiss.
And then he breaks eye contact. He turns away.
The moment is over.
Nothing was about to happen. Why would I think that? Because we worked together to create a new plan?
We’vealwaysdone that. It doesn’t mean we’re getting along. It just means we’re getting things done.
And the faster we get things done, the faster I can leave.
My hand sweeps over my belly.Will he let me leave with my baby?
The sound of jingling car keys tears me out of my thoughts. Stepan and Pavel wander into the foyer while speaking in Russian. I block out the sound of it while sliding from the chair, crossing the kitchen to get to the stove. I need tea. I need to think.
I have a lot of things I have to figure out.
The alarm beeps twice. The front door shuts. When the alarm beeps three times, I know it’s armed and ready to go off if anyone tries to break in. Though it should make me feel safe, it doesn’t.
It just makes me feel trapped.