Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Katarina
When Win leaves, it’s like all the air goes with him.
Whatever tide of emotion was propping me up ebbs, and I’m just left empty.
I stare out the windows and attempt to decide what to do with myself.
My plan, the thrust of my entire existence, was completed by Win with a snap of his fingers.
And now, he’s off to find his perfect bride, and I am just here.
I understand why I’m still in his house. I’m safe here, for starters. Not that I’ve ever been a play-it-safe kind of girl.
And he claims we’re going to continue our physical relationship.
But also, Win has been clear from the first that he’s in the market for a perfect English bride, and I am not that. In fact, despite my training, I couldn’t be further from what he’s searching for.
A scarred-up, hot-headed daughter of a gangster. Even the money I possess is dirty.
I push up from my chair and start to pace the room. I need something to do, something to occupy my mind and fill my time.
I’m not built for sitting and waiting.
I pick up the burner phone and consider calling Win. Is he still en route to London?
But I can’t rely on him to fill all my restless voids. It’s ridiculous to even think, considering the circumstances. He’s off to some event with Ken, bride shopping…
I nip at my lip.
I could call Sasha. Find out how she’s doing.
Can anyone trace this phone? Will she pick up if I call?
I tap the side of the phone, trying to decide.
Finally, I dial her number, listening to the line ring. I have a moment where I wonder if I’m doing that thing I like to do when I’m restless…the thing where every step I take makes the situation worse.
Finally, I hear the line click. “Who the fuck is this?” A gruff male voice blasts in my ear.
“Who the fuck is this?” I bark back.
“Katarina?”
“Ryker?” I look down at my phone, trying to make sense of the situation. “Why is my sister’s husband of a few days answering her phone?”
“Uh,” he answers sounding cagey, “she’s resting.”
My free hand balls into a fist, my voice rising in volume. “Resting? That’s complete fucking bullshit and we both know it. Where is my sister? Put her on the phone this fucking second!” I’m screaming by the end.
“Katarina—” he starts, and I can hear him click me over to speaker.
“Don’t you fucking Katarina me. You promised me you’d protect her. Now tell me where she is and what’s happened to her or I will cut off your fucking balls and eat them while you watch. I don’t care who—”
“Holy shit, she’s feisty.” I hear another man in the background speak.
“Don’t get too excited. Win won’t tolerate you sassing her,” Ryker says to the other guy.
“Who are you talking to and what do you know about Win and what he will or will not tolerate when it comes to me?”
Ryker doesn’t answer as the other man speaks. “Win does not like it easy, does he?”
“Nope,” Ryker says in response.
“Ryker,” I snap. “Who is that?”
“That is my youngest brother, Rush. And he is here because…” Ryker pauses and I find myself holding my breath. “Sver was here yesterday.”
“Shit,” I cry, my other hand clasping my throat. “What happened?”
“It’s a really long story. No one was killed, including Sver, but I think that Sasha should fill you in on the details.”
Finally. I let out a long rush of air, glad to know that I can speak with my sister.
I hear Ryker knock on a door and then a muffled response.
“Baby,” Ryker murmurs soft and cajoling. “I’m not trying to bother you, your sister is on the phone.” And then he opens the door.
Which means, I can hear Sasha’s response. “Did you call her or did she call you?”
“She called you.”
“Is she all right?” I can hear the note of worry in Sasha’s voice.
“She’s fine. Her normal surly self.”
“Hey,” I huff. “I heard that.”
“You should have sent Rush in with the phone. You’re supposed to be giving me space.”
My brows shoot up at that. Ryker is supposed to be giving Sasha space. “It’s been a few days,” I speak into the line. “How did you manage to fuck it up that badly in such a short amount of time?”
“Katarina,” he growls. “Don’t—”
“Don’t talk to my sister like that,” Sasha cuts him off, her voice rising.
All I can do is stare at the wall, my mouth open. Because my sweet and shy sister has found her voice. And that voice yells at her husband.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he says in that conciliatory voice again. And it hits me. Sasha’s got him wrapped around her finger.
My baby sister has tamed a Smith.
She always was adorable and still is.
“Katarina?” her worried voice comes through the phone. “Tell me you’re all right!”
“I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. What happened yesterday? Are you hurt?”
She sighs. “I’m mostly fine. Most of the harm, I did to myself.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, my eyes narrowing. “Tell me what happened.”
“It’s a long and complicated story, and one I will share with you another day over a bottle of vodka and a box of tissues. But there is something from yesterday that you really need to know.”
“What?” I say, holding my breath…
“Sver…he…” Sasha pauses.
“Did he touch you? Try to kill you?” I can hear my voice climbing again. I came here to protect her, but if Sver attacked her in Las Vegas then I failed even at that.
“No, he didn’t try to hurt me. In fact…” she pauses again, the phone crackling. “He says that he’s our real father.”
I blink down at the phone, the words barely making sense. “What?”
“He says that he had an affair with our mother and that Ivan used our safety to manipulate him into becoming his hitman.”
I pull the phone from my ear and stare at the screen long enough that Sasha calls out, “Katarina?”
“I…I’m…I just…Ivan isn’t our father?” I swear the world slides beneath my feet.
“No, which, given a day to think about it, really makes sense.” Sasha sighs. “Are you all right, Katarina? I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Me?” I stare at the phone. “I’ve been worried about you. I’m sorry I left you with him, I…”
“Ryker? Don’t worry about that. He’s coming along nicely.”
My lips curl up into a smile. “Give him hell, little sister.”
“Where are you?”
“England. With Winston Smith. Who has been a great help.”
“How?”
“I’ll tell you over the vodka and tissues.”
She laughs. “I’d love to hear how you ended up in England with Win.”
I nip at my lip, wondering what Ryker’s told her. But I don’t have time to answer as a knock sounds at the door. “Miss,” a male voice calls on the other side of the door. “I’m one of the footmen. His Grace has been in an accident, and your assistance is needed at once.”
“Sasha, I’ve got to go!” I cry, hanging up before she can ask a single question. I race to the door, throwing it open, my breath comes out in rush, “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just been given instructions to take you to London.”
I spin, grabbing my jacket before I clutch it to my chest and run back to the door. “I’m ready.”
“Right this way, Miss. I’ve acquired a car so that I can drive you myself.”
If Win needs me, I don’t care what my reservations are, I will help him however I can.
He takes me toward the back of the house, down the servants’ stairs and out by the kitchen to a carriage house where a whole parcel of cars wait. Grabbing a set of keys from a peg board, he leads me to a nondescript sedan.
I don’t think twice as he opens my door, helping me in. Pulling down the drive, I play a thousand scenarios through my head.
Win in a car accident. A shooting. He’s surely got enemies. A man can’t be that powerful and uncompromising without them.
We pull up to the gate, the auto-locks clicking as the footman rolls down the window. “Errands?” the guard asks.
“Errands?” I repeat.
“Something like that,” the footman answers as he rolls the window back up, the gate swinging open.
I turn to look at him. If there had been an accident, everyone in the house would have heard about it. “What’s your name?”
“John,” he answers, picking up speed. He’s probably in his thirties, with the kind of face that’s easy to forget. It’s a good face for being a bad guy.
“John,” I repeat, quietly. “What kind of accident did you say it was.”
“Didn’t.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, relaxed in my seat. I’ve faced off with the head of a Bratva family. John doesn’t know what’s about to hit him.
“Um…London.”
“Where in London?” I try again.
“I don’t…I’m not…” I see him wince.
“That’s fine,” I answer softly. I can’t drive anyway, so John can chauffeur me there. “But why don’t you speed it up. I’m so worried about His Grace.”
I see his look of relief. “I will.”
I’m almost insulted. This guy has no idea how to put on a decent deception. He did manage to get me in the car though, I’ll give him that.
“Can you give me your phone? I want to look up hospitals. Maybe if I name them, you’ll remember which one we’re supposed to go to.”
“Uh…”
“I forgot mine, I was in such a panic,” I try to add a little drama into my voice, like I might cry.
He grabs a phone from his vest and hands it over.
“Code?” I ask, intentionally making my voice squeak.
Going three shades paler, he gives it to me. But I don’t check the internet. Instead, I look in his call log.
Where I immediately recognize a number. Ken’s. My mouth drops open. Ken called Win right before Win said he needed to attend a meeting in the city.
And now, I’m being dragged to the city as well.
We’ve got a rat.
And Win…he might not be bride-hunting tonight after all. Which makes my behavior yesterday kind of…crazy.
But I’ll worry about that later. “Could it Memorial Hospital?” I sing out, sounding hopeful.
“Now that I think about it, they said he was at a hotel.”
“Hotel?” I turn to look at John as he speeds down the road. “Was it a fashion emergency?”
He gives a nervous laugh. “I think it might have been the Waldorf Hilton, and I know it was an injury. His call was specific.”
“Whose call?”
“His Grace’s,” John’s voice squeaks on the last syllable.
“How long until we get there?” I ask, batting my eyes. God, this is not strength, but John is exceedingly stupid.
“Five minutes, Miss.”
In four minutes, I’m kicking this guy’s ass. I go silent but I keep his phone and he’s too distracted to ask for it back.
I see the Waldorf come into view, the traffic making us move so slowly, I can hardly stand it.
But I use it to my advantage.
As John brakes the car to a full stop, I thrust out the heel of my hand, bashing his head into the driver’s side window.
He doesn’t see it coming, and he’s out with the crack.
Leaning over him, I hit the child locks, and then slide back into my seat, opening my door.
I’m out of the car before he’s even regained consciousness.
Just strolling down the street is a bad idea, just in case John gets stupid and tries to chase me, so I duck between two buildings, taking off for the Waldorf at a run.
I make it there in record time, vaulting through one of the glass doors and into the lobby.
For a second, I just stand there, surveying the calm.
Now what?