Chapter 10 #2
It was late November, which meant we’d arrived right in the middle of Russia’s brutal winter. Decked out in dark trousers, long, thick wool coats, and black leather gloves, Father and I were dressed for the change in weather.
Autumn…was not.
She’d said, and I quote, “I run hot, I don’t need a jacket”.
Father had tried to convince her to change her mind, but she was as stubborn as he was when he had his mind set on something.
“What happened to ‘I run hot’?” Father snapped, even as he removed his coat and placed it on her shoulders. He took off his beanie next, shoving it onto her head, following it up last with the gloves. Autumn shivered the whole time he put them on her.
Once she was dressed in everything my father could offer her, she placed a soft kiss on his lips, her teeth chattering. His face softened, warmth blazing in his eyes despite the cold air.
“Don’t push me down the stairs this time,” he murmured, chuckling softly.
Say what?
She gave him a dazzling smile. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t like it.”
Father rolled his eyes. His features returned to normal. Hard. Stoic. With a touch of I’ll murder you in your sleep and then grab a bite of Chinese food afterward before he turned around.
We made our way down the stairs, Father first, then Autumn, with me bringing up the rear. I was on edge, the weight of my weapons providing little to no comfort at all. Sergei and his men were enemies. They couldn’t be trusted, their true intentions unknown.
Although we’d had lengthy discussions before we left about what could happen, the truth was…we didn’t really know. Father assumed Sergei would never do something as stupid as murder his own son in his home.
What if he was wrong?
It didn’t happen often, but it did happen.
Father could have completely underestimated Sergei, and he could just decide to take the easy option and kill him and Autumn now that they were within his reach.
I would do everything in my power to make sure that didn’t’t happen, but even I knew my own strengths. Grandfather had an army at his back. It was just us three.
Although…so far…he’d been dead on the money. Granted, we’d only just arrived, but he’d said Grandfather would send a car, and the man did.
Maybe my father knew Sergei just as well as he thought.
The stewardess, Tahlia, and her partner, a man who looked to be in his early forties, were unloading the luggage from beneath the plane. They stood awkwardly, staring at the two different cars, unable to figure out where they were meant to put them.
Father ignored the car on the right, walking right past the two heavily tattooed men without even looking in their direction. Autumn and I followed.
“Mr. Volkov,” one of them called out, stepping forward. “Your father sent us to collect you.”
Father didn’t even slow his pace, walking straight up to the man holding the place card with our last name on it.
“Dimitri Volkov,” he greeted, extending a hand.
The man shook it. Nervousness vibrated from him. “H-hello sir, I’m Pedro. I wasn’t sure I was in the right place.”
“You are.” Moving to the back of the car, Father opened the door for Autumn. She thanked him and sat inside.
Now that it was clear which car we were going to, Tahlia and the man brought the luggage over and started loading it into the trunk. There wasn’t much. Just one suitcase for each of us and the bags we’d carried onto the plane.
If Grandfather asked about the lack of luggage, I already had a cover for it.
If all went to plan, I wouldn’t be staying in Russia.
After I killed Grandfather, I planned to go home.
Sergei, of course, didn’t know that. So, I would tell him that the rest of my things would be getting shipped over in due time, even though I had no intention of doing so.
I moved to the other side of the car and opened the door.
“Mr. Volkov,” Sergei’s man tried again, his voice harsher, more insistent. “Your father will not like this.” The threat lying in his words was so obvious, even Pedro could hear it. He hurriedly rushed around the front of the car and got into the driver’s seat.
I smirked and leaned my arms on the roof of the car. “Sally Sergei will get over it, I’m sure.”
“I was not talking to you,” he said disdainfully.
“Are you talking to me now?”
“Why, you—”
“My son is correct,” Father cut in, opening the passenger-side door. “My father will get over it.” And then he climbed in, shutting the door behind him.
The man’s mouth gaped open. His gaze cut to me. I smiled, waggling my fingers in the air before blowing him a kiss and disappearing into the car.
“You have the location?” Father asked Pedro.
“Yes, sir.”
Father nodded. “Let’s go.”
The engine roared to life, and then we were off. We drove parallel to the aircraft, and just as we turned, I saw a woman step out from inside the plane. I turned around to look out the back window as we continued to drive away.
She stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in black pants, a white button-up shirt with all the bells and whistles of a pilot uniform, right down to the hat on her head. She was staring right at the car, straight at me, as the vehicle moved further and further away.
Familiarity sparked.
The hat and ongoing distance concealed the woman’s face, so I wasn’t able to see her completely, but my body hummed with awareness regardless. Curiosity streaked through me.
Her hand raised into the air, and she waved.
I didn’t know why, but I waved back.