I bite back that thought. “And I can’t make it look like he’s buying cops because that just makes him look even more competent.”
I frown while tapping my tummy. The rhythmic movement makes my gut flutter. I giggle as I stare at my stomach. “You got an idea down there, or are you just bouncing again?”
My gut flutters again.
I nod. “Sounds like an idea. I’m totally listening.”
I don’t hear anything.
Yep, I’ve completely gone off the deep end. I lean against the desk with a sigh, squinting at the picture of Viktoria that Pavel had framed. I lift it and trace the edge of the picture.
Oh, what I wouldn’t give to hear your advice again.To have you teach me what I need to know. How I can survive in this cruel strange world that my husband lives in.
I close my eyes, and I can see us sitting on the terrace like it happened yesterday as she told me how I failed my first lesson.
And then it hits me. “He has to look weak to other criminals.”
I set the picture down and scramble to locate a blank sheet of paper.
“He has to look like he’s submitting to others,” I continue.
I find a paper and snatch a pen from the desk, pressing the tip to the page.
“He has to look like a cock in front of everyone else.”
“What better way to take everyone down,” I wonder out loud. “Than to send the DA to the one place where they’re all going to be?”
It’s bold. It’s brash.
It’s exactly what’s going to halt the war in its tracks. Maybe it’ll end it forever.
Pavel is going to hate it. He’s never going to approve of it. Which is why I can’t tell him anything about it.
“And what better way,” I whisper. “Than for the good guys to show up to the wedding with handcuffs at the ready, proof that Felix Cardonadoesn’tcontrol the police like everyone thinks?”
Chapter Ten
Pavel
It’s late. The den is quiet. I’m perched on the chaise lounge near the window, peering at Coney Island through the darkness. Lights twinkle from the buildings across the street, life appearing normal and undisturbed despite recent chaos.
I feel tense, joints locked in place while I clutch a cup of tea that’s long since gone cold. While that doesn’t bother me, I feel an odd sense of finality with each sip. I know I’ll have to get up and take the teacup to the kitchen. I know it will empty soon.
I peer down at the cup.Like Liya.
A chill sits between us whenever we occupy the same room. Everyone can feel it. I’m not fooled by the pleasantries. No one has brought it up. Yet.
My sister knows. Her compassionately concerned gaze gives her away every time it slides across the table during dinner.
I feel like I’m shriveling up.
A knock sounds from the foyer. Liya stands expectantly in the doorway. She seems pensive, but mostly cautious.
Can I blame her?
I turn back to the window. “What?”
“I figured we should talk.”