Chapter 35
35
DARYA
I t’s just past one in the morning when Bryce knocks on the door.
“Come in!” Rosa and I leap out of our seats as he enters the room. “Is there news?”
He shakes his head. “Not yet, I’m sorry. They’ve made it to the compound and gone inside. That’s all I know. It’s something else.”
“What?” We both sink back into our chairs. My heart is thudding.
“It’s Inger. She’s at the front gate.”
I stare at him in surprise. It’s the last thing I expected.
“She’s not in a good state.” Bryce’s face is hard. “She’s barely conscious. She’s been badly beaten.”
“Then she needs a hospital.” I fold my arms across my belly. I don’t care about Inger right now.
“I agree.” He looks uncomfortable. “But she’s insisting on talking to you. She said the girls’ lives depend on it. I’d call Roman, but—”
“No, no. They’re in the middle of it all. We can handle this.” I tap the chair arm. “Get her on the phone. But she doesn’t come through that gate, Bryce. And when she goes to the hospital, she stays under guard at all times.”
He punches a number into his phone, and someone answers at the other end. “Put her on the phone,” he snaps, then hands his phone to me.
“Inger,” I say coldly.
“Darya!” Her voice is quavery and weak. “I need to talk to you.”
“Not a fucking chance.” I’m gripping the phone so hard it’s a wonder the screen doesn’t crack. “Say whatever it is you came to say.”
“It’s about Ilyan. Ilyan Fedorov. He’s a friend of Vilnus Orlov.”
“I know who he is.” I cut her off. “I also know you’ve been staying in his house.”
“They took us there. Nikolai and me. I didn’t know... Vilnus said...” Her voice trails off pathetically.
“I don’t care, Inger.” I feel so furious I want to throw something. “Talk.”
“Ilyan Fedorov has your father.”
The world lurches to a slow, sickening halt. I lean forward in my chair.
“ What? ” I say blankly.
“Tell Bryce to call Spain. They’ll confirm it.” Inger is sobbing weakly. “Ilyan flew me here two days ago. He’s been keeping me isolated. Then an hour ago a man came and put me in a taxi and told me to come here and deliver his message. He gave me a cell phone I have to give you, and something else that he said is proof. He told me I have to give it to you, and nobody else. He said”—she starts crying in earnest—“he said they will kill me, and your father, if you don’t follow their instructions. Please, Darya.”
“Give the phone back to the man who gave it to you.” I cut her off when she begins to protest. “ Now , Inger.” I wait until the phone has changed hands. “Keep her outside until we call you back.”
I end the call and throw the phone to Bryce. “Call the security at my father’s villa in Spain. Inger said they’ve taken him.”
“ Mierda .” Rosa stands abruptly, her hand going to her mouth. Bryce’s face is white as he punches out the number. All three of us wait, the long continental beeps audible in the quiet room.
“There’s no answer.” Bryce stares at me. “Let me try Pillars.”
We wait again.
“Fucking answering machine,” he mutters.
I call Abby’s number.
No answer.
Oh, Jesus.
“We need to call Mak.” I nod at the door, and Bryce follows me out. I close it so Rosa can’t hear. “It’s Fedorov. He’s got Papa, which means Miami is nothing more than a distraction. He’s going to come here, Bryce.” I know it, in the pit of my gut. “They need to know they’re walking into a trap in Miami, if it isn’t already too late.”
He nods, dialing the number. “What do you want us to do with Inger?”
I frown. “Wait for Mak’s instructions.”
Bryce switches the phone to speaker as it answers.
“ Da .” Mak’s voice comes hard down the line.
“You’re walking into a trap.” Bryce doesn’t waste time. “Fedorov is in Spain. He’s got Sergei, and he’s taken Pillars. Inger is at the gate. She says she has instructions she has to give Darya in person, or they’ll kill Sergei. What do you want us to do?”
“Sit tight.” Mak’s voice is cool and collected. “I’ll send a team straight to you. Don’t let Inger through that gate, and keep it locked down until my people get there. Is Darya with you?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Darya, you and Rosa get inside the safe room. Bryce, put your best men on the door and two inside the room with them. I’ll call when my team is close to you. Any questions?”
“No,” we both say.
He hangs up without waiting for a response.
“Rosa.” I put my head around the door, where a white-faced Rosa is waiting, tense and alert. “Come with me.”
We follow Bryce downstairs. “What about Vera?” I ask him as we go.
“I’ve got someone on her door,” he says curtly. “She’ll be fine where she is.”
The safe room is off the kitchen, behind a temperature-controlled wine cabinet. Bryce punches in the code, and the wall of wine swings open. A set of stairs leads down to a small but comfortable room, with a bathroom off on one side. There’s a fridge and a couch in the center by a coffee table.
It still makes me shiver. I’m never going to like being underground, or locked in.
Anton and Karel, two of Bryce’s men, come in with us. “I’m going back upstairs,” Bryce says. “Is your phone working?”
I nod, holding it up. “I’ve got the charger.”
“Good. I’m leaving you with the code in case of emergencies, but please, don’t open that door unless it’s to me or someone you trust.” He glances at the two guards, who nod. “Understand?”
“Yes.”
He gives me a tight smile. “I don’t know many women who would have handled this situation so well. You’re one cool lady, Darya Petrovsky.”
I try to smile back. “I’ve had a bit of practice.”
He gives a low cough of laughter. “Yes, I guess you have. Okay.” He eyes the two guards with me, both men I know well. “You’re directly responsible for Roman’s woman, his child, and his mother. Don’t fuck it up.”
They both nod.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
The door closes behind him with a solid thud, and we’re alone.
Rosa turns to me, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. “His child?” she whispers. Her eyes drop to my belly. “You’re pregnant?”
I half smile. “Not exactly the way we’d planned to tell you the news. But yes, I am.”
“Oh!” Her hand flutters toward me, the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Oh, Darya.”
She grips my hand, smiling tremulously. Then her eyes fall on the men with guns standing at a discreet distance. “Is it Vilnus? Did he find us?”
I shake my head. “It’s not the Orlovs.” I debate with myself for a minute, but there seems little reason to keep Fedorov’s name out of it now. “It’s a man called Ilyan Fedorov. He’s taken Papa.”
The color leaves Rosa’s face. Her hand tightens convulsively on mine. “ Fedorov? ”
The amount of fear in her voice tells me everything I need to know.
“Yes. It was him who was behind the Orlov coup in the first place. It seems that he’s been behind... everything.”
“Oh, God.” Rosa collapses onto the couch, biting her lip. “Aleksander and Sergei were right all along. They knew. They were both certain it was Fedorov who’d sold my whereabouts to the Colombians. Maria and I always thought they were just paranoid.” She raises a shaking hand to her face, rubbing her forehead slowly. “Sergei had been hunting him,” she says hoarsely. “For years. Following every lead, leaving no stone unturned. He and Aleksander always said Ilyan Fedorov was still out there. Maria and I both resented their obsession with him. It felt like being held hostage to old ghosts.”
I know how that feels. I feel, increasingly, as if old ghosts are pulling the strings on every part of my life. I hate the power the past has over us all.
Rosa is plucking nervously at the sofa, her brow furrowed. “I’ve been so wrong,” she whispers.
I glance at my phone. Nothing.
“Wrong about what?” I ask, more to distract us both from what might be going on upstairs than because I actually want answers.
“When I found out it was Vilnus Orlov who’d killed Aleksander, I blame Sergei.” Rosa’s accent is more pronounced under pressure. “I think I lose my husband and my son, because of a fantasma .” Because of a ghost. Her face is white and strained. “I was so angry that I had run from this Fedorov, when the real enemy had been hiding among us all the time.” She shakes her head slowly in disbelief. “Sergei never wanted me to leave Miami at all, but still I blamed him. For trusting Orlov. For the coup. And, when I found out about it, for Maria’s death. Dios mío .” She buries her head in her hands. “I never truly believe this Fedorov could still be alive.”
“Wait.” I lean forward, confused. “Why were you angry at Papa? Why did it make any difference if it was Fedorov or the Orlovs chasing you?”
She pauses, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she faces me again her expression is resigned, the emotion fading or carefully controlled—it’s hard to tell which.
“Because I never would have run if it was just my family or Russian enemies. Fedorov was... different. We knew what he had done, what he was capable of.” She frowns. “But I should not speak of this. It is not my story to tell.”
“I know about Paris,” I say quietly. “I know he killed Papa’s first wife.”
“And his children.” Rosa nods. “Two sons and a young daughter. Aleksander lost his wife and young son. Fedorov tortured them until they told him where every last piece of Sergei and Aleksander’s wealth was hidden, and then he killed them and stole everything.” She shakes her head. “I would never have left Alexander, or my son, if I hadn’t truly believed that doing so would put an end to the history we had all been living in the shadow of. Aleksander and I believed that Fedorov had made a deal with the Cardenas cartel, my family. We thought my family wanted me, and Fedorov wanted the vault. We thought that by running, I would draw them both out into the open, enabling Sergei to deal with Fedorov, once and for all.
“I was in Costa Rica when Sergei came to tell me Aleksander and Roman were dead. It was...” Her voice trails off, and she shakes her head, her face ravaged with pain. “There are not the words to describe it,” she says softly.
There is a silence I don’t try to interrupt. I think of Roman’s face when he saw Rosa, of the hurt I know he tries hard to conceal.
After a time she speaks again. “The Cardenas cartel had claimed responsibility, but Sergei was still convinced Fedorov was behind it. He wanted me to stay hidden. We fought about it for years. Bitterly.” She stares at the floor. “I wanted to come back to Miami, to be with Maria, to mourn my family. Sergei said it was too dangerous, that Fedorov would have a target on my back. At first I was too devastated to argue. After a while, when it became clear that Sergei’s war with my family was going to drag on, I didn’t want to endanger Maria or her children. I figured it was better for everyone if I disappeared.
“So I ran again, but this time, I didn’t just run from my family. I disappeared entirely, and I stayed gone.
“It was years before I heard about the coup and tried to contact Sergei again. At first, when I discovered it was the Orlovs who had murdered my family, and by then, Maria too, I was furious.” Her face spasms, a memory of old anger. “There had been no Fedorov, no murderous shadow in the wings. Just greedy men who had seen the name on that damned vault and seized an opportunity. I lost my husband, my son, and my best friend, all because, as I thought, Sergei had trusted Vilnus Orlov.” She shakes her head tiredly. “But angry or not, I couldn’t do nothing when I realized the Orlovs were holding you hostage. I came back to Miami soon afterward. I’m not sure what I planned to do. I was just... angry.
“I knew all the secret tunnels leading into the compound, so I broke in. I couldn’t find Sergei; I wasn’t even sure if he was still alive. Eventually I found Alexei. I told him who I was and tried to convince him to get you and run with me. But he wouldn’t go.”
“What do you mean, he wouldn’t go?” I stare at her in shock. “Papa told us it was you who made Alexei promise he wouldn’t leave.”
“No.” Rosa shakes her head slowly. “That’s just what Alexei told your father. It was the only way he could convince Sergei to leave him behind, although Sergei was still furious. The truth is that Alexei had heard the Orlovs talking about Roman, discussing where he might be. He’d worked out that if the Orlovs were searching for him, then Roman must still be alive.” She half smiles at me. “You can’t imagine what it was like, to have that kind of hope, after so long. It was almost terrifying. But it was also devastating. To think that Roman might have been alive, all that time, alone, without any help...” She rubs a hand over her face. “It still kills me,” she whispers. “If I’d just stayed—if I hadn’t run—”
I cover her hand with my own. “If you’d stayed, then you’d be dead too. And we would still have been held hostage by the Orlovs.”
“Alexei said the same thing.” Rosa’s face is tired and sad. “Just as Sergei once had: that if I got caught, it would all have been for nothing. We agreed that as soon as I was somewhere safe, you and Sergei would join me. Alexei gave me an email address to use as a point of contact. I found out just recently that it belonged to his Swedish friend.”
I feel a faint wash of horror. Lars Andersson couldn’t have been more than fifteen back then.
We were all so young.
“Your brother is a good man,” she says gently. “I wish you would believe that, Darya.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
I stare at the door, willing it to open, to have some kind of news, but it remains stubbornly closed.
“So you were angry at Papa because you thought it was the Orlovs behind the coup?” I ask it more to change the subject than because I really want to know.
“I am ashamed of that anger now.” Rosa winces. “To discover that Aleksander and Sergei were right all along, that it was Fedorov behind the coup, behind all of it... Suddenly every decision Sergei has made over the years makes sense. To think that now I might never have the chance to tell Sergei that, to thank him for all he has done to keep me safe and to protect Roman... oh.” She puts her hands over her face, and I realize, with a shock, that she’s sobbing.
I stare at her bowed head, her shaking shoulders, and all I feel is sadness. For my parents, and Roman’s, burdened with a legacy I don’t truly understand, that has taken so much of their lives.
All I know is that even as we sit here, that legacy is still threatening the lives of two innocent children. Threatening the life of the father of my child.
No matter what my father or my brother have to say, I’m not sure I will ever be able to forgive that.