44. Mikhail
Chapter forty-four
Mikhail
Work and working out weren’t cutting it today. Tati’s ‘goodnight’ text at seven this morning has me on edge. It means she stayed up all night and was just going to sleep. But why? What would keep her up all night?
The lack of progress on any plan to get her safe was driving me crazy.
The bell over the door to Twisted Ink tinkles pleasantly, and the familiar and comforting buzz of tattoo machines and classic rock loosen a little of the pressure in my chest. My body Pavlovian knows that pain is on the way.
The dark-haired woman behind the counter smiles warmly at me.
“Head on back, Axel’s already waiting for you,” she says with a nod toward the back.
I give her what feels like a ghost of a smile and walk back to the station I’m used to.
I pull my shirt off unceremoniously and lie on my side. I’d texted Axel the painting I wanted done on my side and approved the stencil weeks ago. With everything with the wedding and Tati and the funeral, I’d been putting it off.
But the helplessness scratching at the back of my skull couldn’t be sated today. So it’s ink therapy.
Axel gets to work, spraying the area and wiping it, disinfecting it.
“You never did tell me what these paintings are...” he starts. Irritation bristles the back of my neck. I like Axel because he usually doesn’t talk. Maybe I should have gone with one of the other guys today for peace of mind.
Axel must have something up his ass because he doesn’t take my silence and a clue.
“Is it for a girl?”
I glare, but he can’t see it because I’m on my side, facing away from him. I pray this time my silence is a clue.
“It’s for a girl, isn’t it?” There’s a smile in his voice that I want to punch off of his face.
Silence.
“What’s her deal? Ya’ll together?”
I sigh. God, this is a story I don’t feel like reliving right now.
“Tatiana,” I reply, hoping it’s enough to shut him up.
But the hand wiping my side falters.
“Chernov?” he whispers, and I whip around.
How the fuck does he know her name?!
The color drains from his face as he stands, walking around his table and toward the front, but fuck that. Now I need answers.
I follow him to find him and Nikki, huddled together, whispering.
“How do you know that name?”
If he’s an enemy, I’ll end him here. If he’s involved with Vitale at all, I’ll end him.
But it’s Nikki’s dark, pitying eyes that temper that anger.
“I know your girl...” Nikki starts, and every atom in my body stills, hanging on her next words. Why does she look so goddamn sad? Shock is replaced quickly by need.
“How?” I nearly shout the word at her. She flinches and her men tense.
“I’m not sure it’s my story to tell. If she hasn’t told you...” Instantly I know what she means. If Tatiana hasn’t told me about meeting with Nikki, there must be a reason for it.
Fuck this.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket and FaceTime Tati. The call connects after two rings.
“Mik?”
I spin the phone so she can see Nikki and Axel, standing behind her now, a protective arm around her waist.
“Nikki?”
So they do know each other!? I wrack my brain to figure out how. When? Where? Is Nikki somehow involved with Giovanni? I’m so confused.
Nikki’s smile is shy and contrite. She gives a short, little wave.
“Hi, Tati, how’ve you been?”
Tatiana’s silent, and that’s never a good sign. I flip the phone back around to see her beautiful face looking torn. She won’t meet my eyes, and I find that unacceptable.
“Tati,” I scold, my voice low and only for her.
Finally, her blue eyes find mine again, indecision replaced with determination.
“Nikki and Axel have helped me hack into Vitale’s network. I’ve been gathering intel on him, and I’ve sent it to the FBI. I didn’t want to tell you guys because I know you’d worry, and there’s no guarantee that this will get me out of here.”
Disappointment floods through me. Hacking?
Since when does Tatiana know how to hack?
What if she gets caught?! They’ll kill her.
It’s dangerous. It’s foolish. But it’s the first time freedom actually tastes close.
I’ve saved Juliet in the hopes of Tatiana returning, having faith that somehow, someday she’ll be free, without any real vision on how.
“Johnson’s gone through everything you’ve given him, by the way,” Axel adds, loud enough for Tati to hear him.
I turn the phone and hand it to him, running my hands through my shaggy hair, trying to process and grasp what this truly means.
Unease sits like a rock in my stomach, and fear for her, but the rock is being buoyed by hope.
“You must be Axel. It’s nice to... well... kind of meet you?” Tatiana says, her voice sounding brighter and happier than it has in a long time.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“Also, are you hacking the FBI?” she teases, and a bitter, jealous part of me hates that he’s getting even an ounce of her humor.
“Can neither confirm nor deny...” Axel teases back, and fuck, that burns. “In all seriousness. He’s been able to take what you’ve given him, and some intel he’s been collecting over the years from other sources, and is ready to make a move. You’re probably looking in the next week or two.”
There’s silence on Tatiana’s end. Axel smiles down at the phone fondly before clearing his throat.
“I’ll hand you back to Mik. All these years I’ve worked on him, I never knew he had a girl. And now that girl is you. Small world.”
I take the phone back from Axel and walk outside and around the corner of the brick building to get some privacy. But as I stare back at Tatiana, her gaze is guarded. I don’t even know where to begin. Thoughts are so scrambled in my brain that none of them are able to take hold.
“Are you mad?” she asks, and that’s what does it.
“Am I mad?!” I whisper-shout. “What you’re doing is dangerous! Of course I’m mad.” But even as I say that, the fight bleeds out of me. “But if it gets you free, then I can’t be that mad. I’m just worried about you. If something happens...” My voice breaks as I cut myself off.
Her gaze softens.
“Nothing is going to happen to me, Mik. I promise. I promised you I’m coming back to you. I never break my promises, Mik.”
I know this. Never once has she ever promised something or said something without backing it up. Even the simplest things, like picking up coffee for me. That’s one of the things I love the most about her.
The day she found me, she held my hand, held her cashmere sweater to my bleeding ear, and told me she was going to take care of me. And she has. Every day, for close to a decade.
Just like she put Roman in his place about assuming he knows what’s best for her, I have to trust her in this. I have to trust that she’ll keep herself safe.
I want to tell her I love her. But I won’t do that over the phone.
I won’t do that while she’s still locked away.
I’ll tell her when she’s free. When I can hold her in my arms, and kiss her again, and make love to her the way she deserves.
The way I’ve dreamed about all these years. Slow, lazy, passionate, and whole.
So, I do the only thing I can do. I nod.
We say our ‘goodbyes’, promising to FaceTime each other before we go to bed, and then I straddle my bike, eager to tell the other two that our wait might be over soon.