Chapter 6 #2
“Do you? Because sleeping with random civilians while federal agents are hunting you isn’t just stupid, it’s potentially lethal.
For both of you.” He starts pacing, three steps in each direction, the movement barely visible but clearly agitated.
“What if Lang traces you to her house? What if she becomes a target because of your inability to keep your dick in your pants?”
The crude assessment stings because it contains enough truth to be uncomfortable. I did put Celia at risk by getting involved with her, no matter how genuine the connection felt in the moment. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?” He stops pacing and faces me directly. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you endangered an innocent woman because you got lonely and sentimental.”
“She’s not just some random civilian.” The words come out with more heat than I intended. “She’s intelligent, kind, and genuinely decent in a way that’s rare in our world. Being around her made me remember what it felt like to exist without constantly calculating threats and advantages.”
“And that’s exactly why you need to stay away from her.” Leonid’s voice softens slightly, but the concern remains. “You’re getting attached, which makes you vulnerable. Vulnerable gets you killed in our business.”
“I’m not attached.”
“Really? Then why are we having this conversation instead of discussing operational security?” He crosses his arms, waiting for an answer I don’t have.
The truth is I can’t stop thinking about the way Celia responded to my touch, the trust she showed by inviting me into her bed, and the genuine pleasure she took in simple conversation over wine and candlelight.
I can’t stop wondering what might have happened if I were really Aleks Sokolov, traveling businessman, instead of Yefrem Kulikov, Russian crime boss with blood on his hands and enemies closing in from all sides.
“She deserves better than what I can offer,” I say finally.
“At least you recognize that much.” Leonid checks his watch, probably calculating travel time to our next secure location. “What’s done is done. Now we focus on damage control.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we move you to the Nevada facility today, establish new communication protocols, and hope Lang doesn’t trace you to Lake Tahoe.” He pauses, studying my expression. “You didn’t tell her anything, did you? About who you are, or why you’re here?”
“Nothing. She thinks I’m a businessman traveling to San Francisco.”
“Good. Keep it that way.” He turns toward his car, then stops. “Yefrem? Don’t contact her again. Whatever you think you felt last night, it’s not worth her life or yours.”
The finality in his voice should reassure me. Clean breaks are always safer, and maintaining distance protects both of us from complications that could prove fatal. Instead, the thought of never seeing Celia again sits in my chest like a weight I can’t shift.
“There is one thing,” I say as he reaches for his car door.
“What now?”
“I want you to keep an eye on her for a bit. Discreetly and from a distance, just to make sure she’s safe in case someone traces me to her place.”
He stares at me like I’ve suggested we start a charity for orphaned puppies. “You want me to provide surveillance protection for a civilian you barely know because you had a one-night stand?”
“I want to make sure my poor judgment doesn’t get an innocent woman killed.”
He shakes his head. “Your poor judgment was sleeping with her in the first place. The smart play now is to disappear completely and hope no one connects her to you.”
“Leonid.” I keep my voice level but let enough authority creep in to remind him that despite our friendship, I’m still the one who makes final decisions.
“I’m not asking for active protection or direct contact.
Just periodic observation to make sure she’s safe.
If Lang’s people show up asking questions, I want to know about it. ”
He’s quiet for a long moment, weighing the risks against my apparent determination to involve him in what he clearly considers emotional stupidity. Finally, he nods once. “Fine. I’ll have someone check on her periodically, but this is the last favor I do for your conscience, understood?”
“Understood.”
He gets into his car without another word, and I follow suit.
As we pull out of the rest stop in opposite directions with the plan to meet up at the coordinates he’s going to email me through encrypted channels, I catch a glimpse of the mountains that hide Lake Tahoe from view.
Somewhere beyond those peaks, Celia is probably waking up to find my inadequate note and the money I left behind.
I wonder if she’ll think of me as fondly as I’m already thinking of her, or if she’ll recognize the encounter for what it really was—a dangerous distraction that could have gotten us both killed.
The rational part of my mind hopes for the latter. The part that remembers the way she smiled in candlelight hopes for something else entirely, something I have no right to want and no ability to provide.
I drive toward the next phase of a survival strategy that’s kept me alive for eight months, trying not to think about sage green walls or the sound of genuine laughter over morning coffee. Trying not to think about what I might have found if I were a different man living a different life.
The notebook in my pocket feels heavier with each mile I put between myself and the woman who reminded me what it felt like to be human instead of just a collection of survival instincts and calculated risks.
By the time I reach the Nevada border, I’ve almost convinced myself that leaving was the right choice and protection from a distance is enough to satisfy whatever obligation I feel toward her.
Almost.
But not quite.