29. Luna
When Frank pulls up, I’m relieved. The loneliness I was feeling since Nik had to leave tempers when I get in the car and hear the older man’s familiar voice.
“How was dinner, Mrs. Balakin?”
“It was good, Frank. Sorry to make you pick me up.” I wince, because it was Nik who called. Why am I apologizing? “I’m going to have a night in with my book and some popcorn, so you should take the rest of the night off.”
He gives me a soft smile in the rearview mirror, likely reading my disappointment. “It’s never a burden, Mrs. Balakin.”
The rest of the ride home is silent, and when we hit the gravel road, weaving through the dark woods, instead of dread, I feel … calm. I’m anticipating a relaxing night. No one likes to be pitied, even when it comes from themselves.
Frank parks the car, and we head into the warehouse.
“Hey, Peter. Hi Mikhail.” Two of the warehouse workers are leaning over a crate of Kalashnikov SR-1s—it’s crazy what I’ve come to learn—each of them sorting through paperwork.
They both ditch the papers and turn to me with smiles on their faces. I’ve enjoyed getting to know many of the men who rotate in and out of the warehouse. Our raccoon friend truly bonded us.
“Good evening, Ms. Luna. How was your trip into the city?” Peter asks, his unnaturally blue eyes darting to Frank and then back to me.
Stressful. Worrying. But, also, romantic. I could clearly picture my future with Nik this evening. Even with the worry over my sister. The way his body hugged mine—I’ve never felt so safe.
“It was good,” I answer instead. “Didn’t snag you any dessert, though.”
Peter laughs. “That’s okay, Ms. Luna. I’ll take your chocolate chip cookies anytime.”
I shake my head with a smile at the same time Frank lights up a cigarette.
Mikhail is quiet. He’s slouched over the weapons crate, chin propped on his hand, dark blue circles under his eyes. Poor guy.
“How are the twins?” I ask.
He grins, and all the tiredness on his face morphs into joy. “They’re wonderful. Thank you for asking.”
Mikhail and his wife have six-month-old twins, and he’s mentioned they aren’t sleeping well—or, at all. I’ve made a point to bring him coffee in the mornings when he’s on the day shift.
“I’ve got a few cold ones, Frank,” Peter says. “Mikhail and I are going to go pick up some pizza. Care to join?” Frank nods and flicks his cigarette to the ground before stepping on it. Peter looks at me. “Ms. Luna?”
I smile. “No thanks. I have a date with popcorn and a book.”
The three of them stride through the long warehouse toward their personal cars, their laughter echoing throughout the metal building.
I make my way back to the stairs, where Lev is on shift at the bottom. I offer him a smile, stepping onto the first tread, but a clammy hand grabs mine.
“Do you need some company, Luna?” His voice sounds sure and confident.
Why does he think it’s okay to ask things like this—because Nik isn’t around?
“It’s not appropriate to invite you up, Lev. I’ll be fine.” I walk by him and plaster an even wider smile on my face to mask how uncomfortable I’m suddenly feeling.
“Someone like you deserves to be worshiped, Luna,” he whispers.
I turn to glare down at him, mouth dropping open, but I’m unable to reach for the right words. So I stare. Wondering why this guard, loyal to the Bratva and the Morozov family, would risk those words on me.
Perhaps I should be worshiped. Although, I doubt it’s anything I deserve. But if it were, the only person I’d want would be Nik, and Nik alone.
“Lev, I’m grateful for our friendship. You befriended me when I needed it the most, but that’s where it ends.”
“Luna …” Lev pulls my hand close to his chest. “He’s never home. I see the way you long for something more. The way you want companionship. I could be that for you.”
“I’m married, Lev. To your Bratva brother and boss. I know how my father handled insubordination like this, and I don’t wish that on you. Please know I’m okay. Nik is …”
I let the thought trail off. Nik is becoming so much more to me.
Lev steps back. His eyes wash over my face, cheeks reddening. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a flask. Holding my gaze, he twists off the top and takes a long swig. Then he takes another. And another, before finally turning and walking away from me.
Letting out a sigh, I spin and move up the stairs to the apartment.
Once I’ve successfully changed into jeans and one of Nik’s shirts, I rummage around in the kitchen for some popcorn. Finding some, I toss it into the microwave, my thoughts mulling over what Lev said as I watch it pop.
Did I do this? My thoughts shift to ways to bring up the situation to Nik. That he knows about my history doesn’t bode well for Lev. Or me, I guess. Part of me wonders if Nik would even listen to me. Would he assume the worst?
While my conversation with Lev bothers me, those thoughts are quickly drowned out by ones of Nik. I lean against the counter and hug myself, eyes closing as I relive our moment in the elevator. Nik’s kisses and exploring hands …
The loud beeping of the microwave startles me, and I slam my elbow back against the granite at the same time my phone starts ringing. Crap that hurt.
“Hello?”
“Luna? Luna, it’s Bella.” My sister’s voice is shaky, and her rasping breaths immediately cause my pulse to race.
“Isabella, what’s wrong? Where are you?” Music plays in the background, but I can’t make out much else except for Bella’s heavy panting.
“Luna,” she cries, and my heart cracks. It’s been so long since I’ve heard my sister cry. “They won’t let me leave. I—I keep trying?—”
“Bella, where are you? Send me your location.” I grab my coat and slip on my sneakers. My hands are shaking, and my muscles tighten with every move I make. I open the apartment door and race out, not even bothering to close it.
“Lev!” I shout, tripping down the stairs with only half of one shoe on. “Bella, did you hear me? Send me your location, I’m coming.”
Sobbing on the other end drives a knife into my heart, and I’m going to throw up.
“They know. They know my last name. I can’t leave.” A man in the background says something unintelligible and Isabella screams.
“Drop a pin! I’m coming.” I yell through the phone. The ding of a pin alert sounds in my ear as soon as the line goes dead. “Frank!” I shout, not seeing him.
Where the hell is Lev?
Running through the doors leading to the garage, I dial Nik’s number. Both cars are parked, so Lev didn’t leave. The phone line keeps ringing and ringing until it stops.
Shoot.
I don’t have time for this. Getting into one of the cars, I reach around for the keys, but after a couple minutes of search, I don’t find any. No, No! I try the next car while dialing my father, but there’s no answer. Just as I’m about to really start panicking, my hand connects with the key fob, and I nearly cry.
I don’t think. I just start the car and barrel out of the garage, bringing up the navigation on my phone as I drive. It’s a random location in the city. I speed toward it while attempting Nik again, and I cringe with every ring that goes unanswered.
Please. Please pick up.
My hands ache from gripping the wheel so hard. I haven’t driven in forever. I throw my phone down when he doesn’t answer. Rubbing my eyes to keep from breaking down, I try to think. They know her name and won’t let her leave. It’s someone who wants to make a buck off my father. I dial my mother again, and she answers on the third ring.
“Mom!”
“Luna, why are you yelling at me?”
“Have you heard from Isabella? Do you know where she is? She called me saying she was out somewhere, and they won’t let her leave wherever she is. They found out her last name.”
My mom seethes on the other end. “That girl?—”
My chin trembles. We’ve been coached for this. Growing up in the Cosa Nostra, we were taught not to give anyone our last name, especially since we were kept hidden for so long.
“I have her pin. I’m going to get her.”
“Don’t you dare, Luna! Your sister was supposed to be out with friends for the night. This could be her playing a game.” I shake my head. It didn’t sound that way. And Bella wouldn’t do that—not to her family.
“I heard it in her voice, Mom. I’m going. Tell Dad—I couldn’t get him on the phone. I’m sending him the location right now.”
“Luna Buscetta, you do not go in there. You wait for your father. You know?—”
I hang up. I don’t need to listen to this. I’m not leaving my sister. She needs someone.
I work on sending my dad the pin while keeping my eyes on the road. New York traffic is insane tonight. My phone rings. It’s Frank.
“Where are you?” he asks, voice panicked.
“I had to go to my sister. She’s being held up at a club. I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait for you to get back, and Lev?—”
“Luna, you need to turn around right now. Or better yet, pull over. I’ll come to you. You cannot be alone.” I hear him running. The sound of a car door opening. “You cannot be alone,” he repeats. “Pull over.”
Why not? I’ve been alone all my life.
Alone when my parents decided I was good for only one thing.
Alone when I was forced to get married.
Alone in an apartment above a weapons warehouse.
Alone with my books.
Alone with my pain.
Alone with my desire.
A fire burns in my chest, pushing me forward with a single focus: get to Bella.
I park on the street, triple-checking the pin I was sent. This can’t be right. There’s nothing around. I don’t see any signs of a club nearby. No troves of people waiting to get in. No music.
I follow the pin to a brick building. It’s tall, but … empty? I keep walking around, dragging my fingers along the rough blocks. Come on, Luna, think!
There’s a dark alleyway up ahead. I stop before it, staring down to a dead end. Trash cans and a dumpster, and the smothering stench of garbage drifts out of the narrow passage toward me. There’s one door attached to the building, but it looks out of service.
My heart races and raw emotions grate at me, but I decide to at least take a look.
At first, it appears to be like any old door, but the signs quickly add up. Blinking red lights in the upper corner expose two cameras—high-tech and clearly in working order. And key card access is required to get inside. I raise my fist to knock, but something catches my attention. Uncurling my hand, I allow my fingers to graze the initials on the door.
EV.
Unease slams into me, and I turn my phone over in my hand several times before glancing back toward the alleyway entrance. I look at my phone again. Zero missed calls from Nik and my father.
I pick my fist up and knock. A rush of adrenaline hits me as the door creaks and slides open, and music wafts out into the alley. I can make out some red walls?—
“Who are you?” A large man, probably double the size of Nik, stands in front of me. I would consider Nik a buff guy—biceps for days and well-defined muscles. Well, this man is all that plus. He’s dressed in all black. Suit pants hug thick thighs, and his black button-up shirt is covered with a tactical vest. An earpiece dangles out of his left ear.
“I-I’m here for … someone. I know she’s in there.”
He smirks. “This is members only.”
“I know she’s here.” I say, trying to sound confident. I hold up my phone. “She sent me her location. I suggest you let me get her before I make this a bigger problem for you.”
I’m surprised my voice doesn’t shake like the rest of my body, but I hold strong.
The man glares at my phone and puts his earpiece back in. Several moments of silence beat past as he listens to whoever’s speaking on the other end.
“This way,” he says finally.
I take one more look behind me, perhaps hoping I’ll see Nik, come to save the day. But the alley is as empty as ever. The city seems content to keep this place hidden, and as I step through the door, I can’t help but wonder what exactly I’m walking into.