“Freeze,” I bark in Russian. Maykl may be comfortable shooting to kill, but my police procedure drills override that instinct in me.
“Kira.”
It’s Stepanov.
Fuck. I should have shot him immediately because now that I’m looking at him in the eyes, it’s impossible to pull the trigger. He’s my boss. Or he was.
Still, I don’t lower the gun. He used me. Lied to me. Probably never planned to help me find Mika.
His brow wrinkles. “Kira?”
“Where are the FBI, Stepanov?” I demand.
“Kira!” Maykl jogs toward me, gun pointed at Stepanov. Another man also runs from the shadows–Nikolai. “Step out of the way–I have orders to kill.”
In the moment, my attention diverts to Maykl, Stepanov surges to his feet, snatches my gun, and seizes me, putting my own gun to my head. “Don’t move or she dies.” He wraps his forearm around my neck and yanks back, dragging me backward.
“No!” Maykl immediately stops advancing. He puts both his hands in the air.
Nikolai moves forward slowly, gun still pointed.
“Put the guns down,” Stepanov shouts.
I consider fighting. But I know too well how swiftly my life would end if that trigger went off.
“She’s working with him,” Nikolai growls.
“No.” I seek Maykl’s gaze. “I’m not, I swear. I’m sorry I didn’t kill him. I should have.”
“Ah, I see how it is now.” Stepanov sounds delighted. “This is the man you seduced? Maykl ____?” He’s dragging me backward as he speaks. “I did a little research on your lover, Kira. I found something out that might interest you.”
I see the look of dismay in Maykl’s eyes. “No. Let her go!” He shouts in Russian. “I’m putting my gun down, you see?” He slowly lowers his hands and stoops to put his gun on the concrete floor. “Put it down!” he yells at Nikolai, who slowly does the same.
“He doesn’t want me to tell you. Do you see?” Stepanov is gloating now.
My skin crawls with gooseflesh. I don’t understand what it is Stepanov could possibly tell me.
“Do you want to know who killed your father, Kira? I mean which man actually pulled the trigger?”
No.
My blood freezes to ice in my veins.
No no no no no.
“What?”
There’s a wild rushing in my ears. My temples throb like icepicks have been stabbed in both sides. I can barely see.
Stepanov keeps walking us both backward.
“It’s…it’s not true, is it?” I seek Maykl’s gaze, but all I see swirling there is guilt. Regret. “Maykl?”
“Kira, I’m sorry.”
“Did you know?” I practically wail the words. Stepanov has now pulled me back to the mouth of the parking garage, to street level. “This whole time? You knew you killed my father?”
“I’m sorry. Kira–he sold your sister. He tried to sell you, too, in that moment when he was begging for his life.”
Stepanov takes his gun from my head and fires at Maykl, striking him in the middle of the chest.
Maykl’s thrown backward, onto his back.
Knowing he’s wearing Kevlar and probably survived the shot, I slam my elbow into Stepanov’s ribs, grab his wrist and swing the gun up in the air before he can fire on Nikolai.
Nikolai picks up his gun from the floor and aims it at Stepanov, but at that moment, a car screeches up to the curb and a door is thrown open. Stepanov throws himself into it, and it screeches off as he slams the door.
Nikolai lifts his gun in frustration then turns to offer a hand to help a winded Maykl to his feet.
I can’t move for a moment, my feet sealed to the concrete. I’m still trying to assimilate it all.
Maykl killed my father.
And he knew it this whole time.
I clutch my stomach, suddenly wanting to puke.
“Kira,” Maykl croaks.
I shake my head. “Don’t,” I warn, but he goes on.
“I wanted to tell you. I did. I tried, do you remember?”
But I don’t want to hear it. I can’t. Maykl’s moving toward me, but I can barely see him, my eyes are too blurred with tears.
I can’t take any of this. I should have known happiness was not in the cards for me. It figures fate would deliver me to the door of my father’s killer. God–if I believed there was one–must be having a great big laugh at my expense.
“Don’t!” I cry, holding my palm out, as if to ward him away. “Stay back.”
He stops. Spreads his hands. “Kira, please.”
Tears streak down my cheeks. “No, Maykl. Just…no. I can’t. I…have to go.”
I turn and run out onto the street. I don’t even know where I’m going or what I’ll do. I don’t have any of my things with me. No money or passport. All I can think is that I need to get away from Maykl.
“Kira–wait! Kira!” Maykl calls after me, but I’m running fast and hard, slipping on the icy sidewalks and then catching my stride again, doing everything I can to just get away.