Chapter 31 Alison
ALISON
Emanuela led us through a maze of hallways, finally stopping in a quiet room with a huge, waist-high glass water feature at its center.
It was in the shape of a flower, a gurgling pool six feet across surrounded by thick glass petals.
Three of Emanuela’s guards took up positions around the room.
Another two waited outside to stop anyone from coming in.
My chest went tight. Yakov wouldn’t be able to help us: we were on our own.
Emanuela jumped up onto the edge of the water feature and sat there kicking her legs. “Talk.”
Gennadiy took a deep, calming breath. “Someone tried to kill this woman and frame me for it. I need to know if it was you.”
Emanuela cocked her head to the side. “Who is she to you?”
“She’s FBI,” grated Gennadiy. “She’s the FBI agent assigned to catch me. Was it you?”
“So there are no personal feelings?” asked Emanuela.
“She’s FBI,” Gennadiy told her. “Of course not.”
That stung. It was so...dismissive. So the kiss had been just a mistake, like he said.
Emanuela braced her hands behind her and leaned back, stretching like a cat as she considered. She extended one perfect leg and pointed her toe at me. “Hit her.”
Gennadiy and I both blinked at her. “What?” he asked, after a second.
“Hit her,” said Emanuela, staring right into my eyes. “A good, big slap across the face.”
“No!” snapped Gennadiy. I could hear him fighting against his anger, trying to maintain control.
“She’s FBI. What’s the problem?” asked Emanuela, her eyes wide with mock innocence.
Gennadiy snapped. “Emanuela! I’m not here to play games!” He advanced on her, but Emanuela didn’t so much as flinch. She just watched him, delighted, and her bodyguards drew their guns and pointed them at Gennadiy.
“Do it,” I said quietly. “I can take it.”
“I know you can,” said Gennadiy stiffly. “That’s not the point.” He glared at Emanuela. “I’m not doing it.”
Emanuela grinned. “You like her,” she said, thrilled, “that’s why you’re helping her. But you don’t like her enough to be with her.” She pouted at me sadly and stage-whispered. “Is it because of the leg?”
My face burned, and I gave her a death stare. She ate it up, loving my hatred.
“Emanuela! Did you order a hit on this woman, yes or no?” growled Gennadiy.
Emanuela rolled her eyes. “I deal with so many people, Gennadiy, it’s hard to remember.” She sighed and jumped down from the table, then snapped her fingers in the air, calling me like a dog. “Come here. Let me look at you.”
Gennadiy gave me a worried look, but I shook my head: it’s fine. I’d play along if that’s what it took to get some answers. I walked slowly around the table to her, painfully aware that this might well be the woman who wanted me dead.
She smiled at me as I drew close. “Do you want to know a secret?” She put her lips to my ear. “Gennadiy’s fucked lots of women.” She looked sideways, at Gennadiy. “But I’ve never known him to help one.”
Like an idiot, I followed her gaze and looked at Gennadiy.
Emanuela grabbed the back of my head and rammed it down, bending me at the waist over the rim of the water feature and dunking my head in the water. I screamed, which wasted most of my air.
I heard Gennadiy yell. “Let her go!”
Bent over and off balance, I thrashed and fought, my hair swirling like dark tentacles across my vision.
But Emanuela had the strength of madness.
I could feel my ears and the back of my head were still out of the water: maybe she wanted me to hear because it was just my face she was holding under.
But just my face would drown me just fine.
Already, my chest was tight with the need to breathe.
Through the thick glass, I had a distorted view of Gennadiy’s legs running forward. He stopped right in front of the water feature, close enough to touch, but I couldn’t reach him through the glass. “Emanuela, stop it!” he snapped. “Let her up!”
“No,” said Emanuela.
I struggled frantically, but she bent one of my arms up behind my back to hold me in place, and with my feet clear of the floor, I couldn’t get any traction.
My lungs began to burn, and I’d never felt so powerless.
She was smaller than me, she didn’t have my martial arts training, and she was still going to manage to kill me.
The panic clawed at my chest. Please let me breathe!
The distorted gray mass that was Gennadiy sprinted around the table, and I heard the click of a gun. He’d grabbed Emanuela and, I guessed, had his gun to her head, standing behind her so her bodyguards didn’t dare shoot. “Let. Her. Go!” he snarled.
But Emanuela’s hand didn’t move. “You can’t kill me, Gennadiy,” she said calmly.
“If you shot me, my men would kill you before my body hit the floor. And then they’d kill Radimir, and Valentin, and Mikhail.
So you’re going to stand here and watch her die.
You wouldn’t risk everything just to save her. Look: she’s nearly done.”
My vision was going dark at the edges. I could feel my lips starting to twitch as my body’s need to breathe overwhelmed my brain. Any second, I was going to inhale and suck down a lungful of water.
Then I heard Gennadiy speak, and there was something different in his voice, a rawness I’d never heard before, like he’d been sliced open right down to the soul. “Emanuela? Look into my eyes.”
I felt Emanuela twist behind me as she turned to look. The world went dark, and I felt water fill my mouth.
Emanuela let go. I erupted upwards, spitting out water, and sucked in a huge lungful of sweet, sweet air.
Light rushed back into the world, but my brain was still oxygen-starved.
I staggered sideways and would have fallen if Gennadiy hadn’t grabbed my waist. I heaved in breath after shuddering breath and tried to take in what was happening.
Gennadiy had a terrified Emanuela pinned up against the table with his body, one arm pressing his gun to her temple while the other held me.
His expression was beyond frightening, beyond anything I’d seen before.
“Now answer the question!” he roared at Emanuela.
“Did you put a hit out on her? Was it you?” I saw his finger tense on the trigger.
“No,” said Emanuela desperately. “I didn’t order her killed.”
“Why should I believe you?” demanded Gennadiy.
“Because maybe I’d kill her,” Emanuela said in a small voice. “But I wouldn’t put you in jail. I’d want you here.” Her voice cracked. “With me.” In that moment, all the theatrics fell away, and underneath there was loneliness. And longing.
My stomach flipped. I hated her even more, now. But I believed her.
Gennadiy let her go and holstered his gun. Emanuela stumbled away and watched us with big, scared eyes, silent for once. Gennadiy grabbed my hand and led me out of the room, pushing past the bodyguards.
I looked back over my shoulder at Emanuela. “You and her really…?”
Gennadiy winced. “A long time ago. I was young and stupid. I didn’t realize she still…” he shook his head ruefully.
I got one last look at Emanuela before we turned the corner. I hated her, but there was a pang of pity, too. What the hell happened to her, to make her like that?
As soon as it felt like we were a safe distance away, Gennadiy stopped, took my other hand, and turned me to face him. “You’re okay?” he asked.
The emotion in his voice made my throat close up.
Then he brushed my wet hair back from my face, and it really closed up.
I knew I was a mess: make-up ruined, hair a dripping swamp.
But he was looking at me like I was the most valuable thing in the world.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. And replayed what had just happened.
Look into my eyes, he’d told Emanuela. What had she seen there? Something that had convinced her that Gennadiy would risk everything to save me.
Which meant…when he told Emanuela he had no feelings for me, he was lying, to protect me from her. Or from himself. The fragile, silvery excitement that had been crushed when he told me the kiss was a mistake began to tentatively unfurl. I swallowed and stared up at him.
Gennadiy looked away, scowling. “Come on.”
We walked back through the restaurant. A worried Yakov ran over to us. “Chyort,” he cursed when he saw me. “What did that crazy suka do to you?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I was stuck out here.”
“I’m fine,” I told him.
“Emanuela didn’t order the hit,” Gennadiy told Yakov.
“Thank you for coming along.” He and Yakov embraced, and then he took me back to his car.
We drove to his mansion in silence, water dripping down the back of my neck as I tried to process everything.
He did feel things for me. Which meant the kiss hadn’t been a mistake. So why was he pushing me away?
At Gennadiy’s mansion, I changed back into jeans, a blouse, and ankle boots and fixed my face. By the time I was done, Gennadiy had rounded up his family, and we gathered again in the dining room.
“It wasn’t Emanuela,” said Gennadiy. “So it was the Irish. Finn O'Donnell. He’s the only other person Alison was investigating.”
“That’s not good,” muttered Mikhail. Radimir cursed in Russian. His wife, Bronwyn, was sitting beside him, and he pulled her a little closer. Only Valentin was silent.
“So what do we do now?” I asked.
“We confront the Irish.” Gennadiy said viciously. “Ask Finn what the fuck he’s playing at. And we show up ready for war.”
The anger in his voice made my stomach knot. He was spiraling downwards: more brutal, more violent, and that path only ended in one way.
The family geared up, grim-faced. Valentin slid vicious-looking knives into scabbards under his long, black coat. Mikhail opened the doors of his big, black SUV and pointed, and the dogs obediently jumped in. He’s taking his dogs? What if they get hurt?