Now, something about her seems more real. The truth serum made her drop her walls with me. Or else it’s still in her system, but I’d prefer to think that isn’t what wrought the change.
I lead her to the couch, and we sit down together. I wrap a blanket around her and arrange her next to me, pulling her close to my side with her legs over my lap.
“Is cuddling required?” There’s a light softness to her teasing I haven’t heard before.
“Yes,” I say gruffly.
She leans into me and rests her head on my shoulder. “I don’t mind.”
I kiss her hair.
I give her the remote, and she scrolls through the options for a long time, as if nothing will satisfy her. Or perhaps she’s just not used to the choices on American television.
Eventually, she stops on Bridgerton, a historical soap opera of some kind, which seems an odd choice. I would expect my little warrior to pick something suspenseful. Or even a horror film. I don’t protest. Maybe she’s trying to annoy me with something she thinks I’ll hate.
But no, she seems completely absorbed.
Which makes me absorb it, as well.
We watch the first episode through to the end, both of us sitting in silence, seemingly riveted to the story. As if it might tell us something about our current situation. About each other or our relationship.
It rolls into a second episode, then a third.
When Kira yawns, I take the remote and turn off the television. “Let’s go to bed, moya Valkiriya.”
We stand together in the bathroom, brushing our teeth, like the most ordinary of couples. Well, except for the handcuffs. Maybe some ordinary couples use those, too. Probably not for brushing teeth, though.
In bed, I unlock the cuffs and attach one to my wrist for the night. After I turn off the light, I tell her the news.
“My pakhan knows where your nephew is.”
She goes still, waiting for more.
“What will you do for the information?”
“A-anything.”
That was what I suspected. “You chose the wrong side.”
She remains silent.
I guess I want her to say it. To be sorry she worked against us, but of course, that’s foolish. Just because we can locate her nephew doesn’t erase the wrongs that were done to her by the bratva.
And no gift I give her could cancel out what I took from her on my initiation night into the bratva.
I reach for her in the darkness. Find the curve of her cheek with my hand and caress it. “Be good, little warrior, and I’ll give you what you want.”
It’s cruel of me to try to win her allegiance this way, but I already know it can be bought. It was with this promise that her supervisor convinced her to help the Moscow bratva get past our defenses. Of course, she believed she was helping the FBI.
“What do you need me to do?” she whispers in the dark. She thinks I will ask for some deed. A double-cross of the “FBI” perhaps.
Of course, we already have that planned without her help.
But it’s good to know I have enough leverage if we do need her.
“Just be good,” I murmur, stroking her cheek with my thumb.
“Mmm.” She makes a little sound of consideration like she’s trying to figure out what that means.
How could she know that I’m trying to negotiate for her love? To win her permanent allegiance? But perhaps giving her Mika will do that. When she learns he has been well cared for, as a real, adopted son, not as a young bratva brigadier, maybe she’ll think differently of us.
“He is safe and happy. His adopted father will ask him if he wants to see you.”
She sucks in a shocked breath. “Where is he? Who adopted him?”
“No. You haven’t earned your answers yet. I don’t owe you this.”
She lets out a little sob of breath. “I don’t know if I can even believe you.”
“You will have to decide, won’t you? Who you can trust, and who is feeding you lies.”
She falls quiet. Her fingertips find my chest, and she traces the contours in the darkness. “It feels wrong to trust you.” Her words hit me like a blow until she adds, “But I think I do.”
Guilt mingles with satisfaction. What will happen to this trust when she finds out I’m the man who pulled the trigger on her dad?
I want to tell her. No, I don’t want to tell her, but I know I should. Just get it out right now to see if there’s any possibility of moving past it.
But I’m savoring this moment too much. I can’t bring myself to snap this tenuous gossamer thread that’s reaching between our hearts and connecting them right now.
Chapter Twelve
Kira
I sleep heavily. When I wake, I’m bound to Maykl’s bed. The covers have been tucked around my naked body, so I’m not cold. I appear to be alone.