Chapter 27 #2
“Some injuries, but everyone’s alive. We captured one, and he talked before he died.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing that mattered.” I stare at her.
“I think someone revealed our route. Someone who knew exactly when and where we’d be.
Geliy had the opportunity to snoop through stuff while he was staying here, or he might have overheard something.
And his visit was totally out of the blue and unexpected.
He’s not one for keeping in touch, so I’m wondering now why he chose to visit me when he did. ”
“His past…it’s the reason we’re not together anymore. I tried to make it work, but the disappearances and lies were too much.”
I pause before asking her what I really need to know. “Do you think he’d sell us out?”
“If he had a reason.”
“What kind of reason would justify this?”
She’s quiet for a few long moments. “With Geliy…there’s always a reason. You just won’t know it until it’s too late.”
After my morning workout, I push open the gym door, still breathing hard from my workout, and almost trip over a lump of golden fur sprawled across the steps.
“Seriously?” I mutter, hopping back to keep from falling.
The dog, a golden retriever, lifts its head slowly, blinking up at me with big, soulful brown eyes.
My first instinct is to keep walking. This isn’t my problem. Someone else’s dog, someone else’s responsibility. I close my eyes and count to ten. Then crack an eyelid open.
But he’s still standing there, staring at me like I’m his last hope. Then I notice he’s definitely seen better days. Because when he stands, he’s thinner than he should be beneath his matted fur.
“Where’s your family, huh?” I ask in a low voice. The dog takes a cautious step closer, tail giving a slow, almost apologetic wag.
“Damn it.” I rake a hand through my hair. I don’t have time for this. And yet…his eyes. They remind me of my own childhood when I used to go hungry. Something sharp twists inside my chest. “I hope Queenie hasn’t been putting the word out in the animal neighborhood that I’m a soft touch,” I huff.
He gives a small whine in response.
“Come on, then,” I say softly.
The dog perks up a little and trots after me as I lead him back to the house. But then he comes to a stop, hesitating with fear.
Who knows how he was treated in the past? Without another thought, I scoop him up in my arms and feel him shiver. He’s definitely afraid as he buries his wet nose under my chin. I reach the door and shoulder it open.
And then I see the person I least want to see right now.
Grigory.
Oh no.
He’s standing in the hallway, arms crossed like some kind of Soviet-era bouncer. His eyes narrow the second he sees me, judging me like I just brought home a radioactive raccoon. “What,” he grits out, “the hell is that?”
I force out something I hope resembles a smile. “Uh…a dog?” I don’t know why my words sound like a question.
“I can see it’s a dog.” His voice drips with disdain. “Why is it in our house?”
The retriever wriggles in my hold, his tail thumping weakly against me. My heart squeezes. “It was outside. All alone. Hungry. Basically, a Disney movie waiting to happen...”
He scowls so hard in response that I’m surprised his face doesn’t crack. “Feed it. Then it goes. Today.”
“Of course.” My lie slips out smoothly. “Just a quick snack, then, uh, poof, he’ll be gone.”
His eyes flash at me.
He knows.
Guilt prickles at the back of my neck. Oh God, he has a sixth sense for when I’m lying.
“Let’s get one thing clear. This is not a goddamn animal shelter or dog hotel,” he snaps before striding off to do whatever he needs to do. “I better not find any fucking fur on my sofa later!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it!” I call after him in a fake voice with a roll of my eyes. He’s so fucking uptight.
But the second he’s gone, I speak quietly to the bundle in my arms. “Okay, listen, buddy. You’re definitely staying. We just have to keep you invisible. Like a furry ninja.”
And the animal licks my chin and wags its tail, as if agreeing to the plan.
“Grigory is going to murder me in my sleep,” I reply. But somehow, I can’t bring myself to care. Because the only thing that matters right now is making this animal feel safe again.
I set the animal down, and its claws click against the tile as we step into the kitchen. I head straight for the fridge and grab some chicken. Just as I’m setting it on the counter, Babulya appears from the pantry.
“Viktor!” She yanks her wooden spoon out of her capacious apron pocket and smacks me with it. “What are you doing? That’s for our dinner later!” she exclaims in Russian.
“Ow, Baba! It’s for him,” I say, jerking my chin toward the golden retriever now sitting obediently by the table.
My grandmother’s frown deepens, ready to scold me into next week. Until she really looks at the dog. And her stern face softens in an instant. “Oh, poor baby,” she breathes, bending down to pat the retriever’s head.
“Yeah,” I say quietly in Russian. “Found him outside the gym. No collar, no nothing.”
Babulya clicks her tongue. “You did the right thing bringing him in.”
I tear up the chicken and set it on a plate, crouching to let the dog eat while Babulya strokes his back and murmurs to him in Russian. The retriever devours the food in minutes, then looks up at me with gratitude shining in his eyes.
“Guess you’ve got the Baba seal of approval,” I mutter. I scoop the dog into my arms and take him upstairs and into the bathroom. I run a warm bath and gently lower him into the water. He sighs, leaning into my hands as I scrub away weeks of dirt and neglect.
By the time he’s clean and dry, he smells faintly of soap and looks up at me with something like hope. “I’ll call you Prince Albert, I think,” I murmur to him. “That goes perfectly with Queen Victoria.”
I leave him in the bathroom so that I can set things up in the bedroom where Sofia and Leon are sleeping. Queenie has taken to sleeping in here every night, and for some reason, I think Albert will feel safer with another animal at his side on the nights I have to go out for work.
When I push open my bedroom door with my foot, Queenie lifts her head from the windowsill. She blinks at me slowly, tail flicking lazily.
Then she watches me carefully as I start moving things around. I drag an old comforter from the closet and pile it in the corner, layering it with a soft fleece blanket. Queenie jumps down and lands with a soft thud beside me, letting out a questioning meow.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, fluffing the blankets. “I know. This is supposed to be your kingdom.”
Queenie tilts her head, clearly unimpressed with my interior decorating skills. Then she freezes, and her orange-tipped ears perk forward. She sniffs the air, her small snout twitching.
Albert wanders into the room, looking around tentatively before he stills as he sees Queenie.
I tense, ready to scoop one or the other out of the way before a scuffle breaks out.
Instead, Queenie lets out a little chirp, and a split second later, she’s hurrying right up to Albert and reaching up to rub her tiny snout against his much bigger one. Then she rubs her face against his damp fur like they’ve been friends forever.
“What the…?” I blink.
Albert whines softly, leaning down to lick the top of Queenie’s head. Then, without hesitation, they both climb onto the nest of blankets and curl up together, Queenie purring like an expensive engine while Albert lets out a long, relieved sigh.
I crouch down, watching them in stunned silence. They don’t just like each other. They know each other. There’s a familiarity between them.
“Well, fuck me,” I whisper. “You two were strays together, weren’t you?” Because I can see there’s already a bond between them…and I don’t know how, but I recognize it as being similar to the bond I formed with Grigory, Nikolai, and Matvey when I met them on the streets in Moscow.
Albert lifts his head at my voice, his eyes shining.
My chest tightens. I think about the lonely, cold nights they must’ve shared—Vegas nights can be surprisingly cold in winter—huddled together for warmth, depending on each other to survive.
“You stuck by each other,” I murmur, reaching out to scratch Queenie under the chin and stroke Albert’s soft ear. I wonder how they ended up separated before feeling a sense of relief at knowing they’re together again.
For a long moment, I just crouch beside them, my heart caught somewhere between aching and full.
“Guess you both found your way home,” I whisper.
Queenie purrs louder. Albert gives my hand a gentle lick.
And as I look at them, I feel my lips tugging upward.