Chapter 19 Ilya
NINETEEN
ILYA
Boris and Little Kolya glare at me through the bars of the cells across from me.
I already know what they’re thinking.
I shouldn’t have trusted Micah. I barely know him. He was involved with a cop. He was snooping around—badly, but even so.
But I know I’m not wrong about how that fucker treats him. I saw how withdrawn Micah became in Adam’s presence.
“What now?” Kolya asks in Russian. “We sit here all night? I thought everybody had rights here.”
Boris scoffs loudly. “You’re new here, Kolenka. The truth is, pigs are pigs no matter what country you’re in.”
“Don’t call me that,” Kolya mutters. “And I know that pigs are pigs. But they can’t let us rot here all night.”
“They can,” I say steadily. “Be glad if it’s only one night. In St. Petersburg, I was forced to sit in a jail for five days once before they even talked to me. They’d get to me soon, they promised!”
By the time they’d finally pulled me out to interrogate me, I was exhausted and starving. The meager meals they’d fed me didn’t do much to sate my hunger. I’d asked for my lawyer, but of course that hadn’t happened either.
Mostly, the cops had pulled me out to beat me and demand a confession. I barely even remember what crime I’d been accused of that first time.
“Five!” Boris grins at me. “That’s nothing. I once sat in jail for two weeks without any charges thrown at me.”
I shake my head. “Five was the first time. The second, it was almost a full month.”
Kolya rolls his eyes, but he smiles too. “A month! Those are baby sentences. I rotted in a detention cell for a full year once.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Kolya is barely twenty years old. As far as I know, he hasn’t done any time in jail at all. His father had asked me to train Kolya up and keep him out of trouble.
I think he was mostly worried about Kolya pissing off some of the old guard.
Boris starts laughing. “Oh? What was your crime? Stealing candy from a shop?”
“Yes!” Kolya agrees. “I was seven years old, and we went to one of those import shops with all the foreign foods. My mother wanted to bake a German pastry and needed some ingredient the local shops didn’t have.
While she was reading all the labels—in German, which means she understood nothing—I grabbed the exotic candies.
I stuffed my face in the back before we even left the store.
” He shakes his head sadly. “They didn’t believe me when I said my little brother did it, so I got pulled in for questioning.
I outgrew all my clothes waiting for them to finally ask me anything. ”
I chuckle at the ridiculous story. “The cops in your town must not have had enough crime on their plate, for them to even bother with you.”
Kolya grins widely and waggles his finger. “Or they knew I would grow into the mastermind I am today.”
Boris laughs and drags Kolya closer to muss his hair.
It’s good they’re getting some enjoyment out of this situation, even if my own good cheer is dampened by the knowledge that Micah is still with Adam.
I sit down on the bench and close my eyes, listening to their joking and bickering.
It’s too uncomfortable for me to get any sleep.
Mostly, it does remind me of my time waiting to find out what they were going to charge me with, after I’d broken my father’s leg.
The crunch of his bones had been one of the most satisfying sounds I’d ever heard.
“Hey, Boss,” Kolya calls out.
I open my eyes and glance over at him. “What?”
“Is it true your new cellist was—”
“Shut up,” I interrupt harshly. “This isn’t the place for a gossip circle.”
Boris punches Kolya in the arm. “Seriously. You didn’t learn anything when you were locked up the last time?”
“I was seven!” Kolya complains. “You can’t expect a small child to learn these things!”
But he gets the picture. His gaze darts up to one of the cameras in the hallway.
The local cops might not understand Russian, but they can always pull in translators. I’m not going to give them any ammunition to use against us.
The longer we sit here, though, the more time Adam has to hurt Micah. If I thought it would help, I would demand to speak to somebody. A detective, a lawyer, anybody.
It’s another hour before cops arrive to take all three of us away.
I get put into an interrogation room on my own.
Boris and Kolya will know not to say anything without a lawyer. I’m not afraid that they’ll inform on me.
But then, I’d had that same blind faith in Artyom too.
In Micah.
The same detective from the restaurant enters the room and sits down opposite of me.
“Mr. Zima,” she says in a friendly tone. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Detective Amarillo.”
I nod at her. “Nice to meet you. I want to call my lawyer.”
She purses her lips. “Of course. But while we wait for him, maybe we can have a small chat.”
“No,” I say firmly. “No chat without my lawyer.”
I don’t know why she thought she could trick me like that. After another few questions, she gives up and leaves the interrogation room. I sigh and wait until I’m escorted to a phone so I can make the call.
It’s past midnight.
Micah would have packed up his cello by now and been waiting for me to pick him up from the restaurant. We would have gone home, and if we weren’t tired, I’d have sat on the couch with Micah’s head on my thigh.
Shit.
My lawyer arrives and argues with everybody involved, something about human rights violations and amendments and I don’t even care. It results in all three of us getting released from custody, with notice that the department intends to prosecute me for whatever crimes they can slap on me.
“They’ve got nothing,” Milov says. “As long as you all kept your mouths shut.”
Boris and I both look at Kolya.
“I said nothing!” Kolya protests, raising his hands up. “I mean, I told them about the time I robbed a candy store when I was seven. They weren’t impressed.”
“I’ll take a closer look at their warrant.
But all this is for the morning. Can’t believe my night was ruined for this.
” Milov keeps complaining about having to get out of bed in the middle of the night.
I keep my annoyance to myself, because Milov is a great lawyer who knows a lot of people in St. Petersburg.
Boris ends up following me up to my condo. I don’t tell him off for that, either. If ever it was a good idea to stick together, it would be now.
“You think they bugged this place?” Boris asks as he closes the door behind himself.
I glance around, trying to determine if anything looks out of place. “No clue.”
Fuck, I’m exhausted.
I don’t know if I can sleep, though.
My body is wound up, and I keep looking around for something. I don’t know what I’m searching for until my eyes land on a notebook on my coffee table. The pages are lined for sheet music, and the notes are written in pencil.
Micah.
I want Micah.
I need Micah.
I slump down onto the couch and pick up the notebook. This is the piece he was working on. The one he played tonight after hours of practice, hours of rewriting the notes until the whole piece flowed as perfectly as he envisioned.
My eyes start to itch.
Boris suddenly sits down next to me, and I startle, nearly dropping the notebook.
“That’s his, right?” Boris asks. “His music.”
“Yes.” I sigh and set the notebook back on the coffee table. “He’s got such a good ear for music. It was amazing how quickly he would compose music, or know how to play something based on a show we watched.”
“You watched shows with him?” Boris’s eyebrows shoot up. “I thought you said American TV was all schmalzy trash.”
“It is!” I chuckle sadly. “But Mishka enjoyed it. And he tried to explain some of the more complicated jokes to me.”
“Huh.” Boris sets his feet up on the coffee table and looks up at the ceiling. “Sounds like he played you well.”
I curl my hands into fists. “No. He didn’t play me. He wasn’t tricking me. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want to do it. That fucking pig-faced motherfucker, the cop… You saw how he had his hands all over Mishka. How Mishka cowered because of him. Mishka didn’t—”
“Boss,” Boris interrupts. “I get it. You’re head over heels for him. But that doesn’t mean he’s into you, too.”
It really doesn’t.
My heart is heavy in my chest. “I have to believe in him,” I say softly. “If I don’t… If I don’t…”
I didn’t realize how much a broken heart could hurt.
All my life, I judged other men for being so stupid about women.
But I get it now.
I understand why they’d go to such lengths to be with a specific woman—a specific person.
I feel completely hollow.
Boris awkwardly pats my shoulder, and I appreciate the gesture despite how unfamiliar it is.
I sit there, breathing softly, staving off an even more embarrassing display.
Finally I say, “Dronov called.”
“Dronov? What’s that fuckface want?” Boris asks. He squeezes my shoulder once before letting go and scooting away from me.
I laugh at the open show of disrespect. “He said he has a spot for me. Andreyevich died. Or was killed. Whatever.”
“You want to take it?” Boris makes a questioning sound.
Do I want to go back to Russia?
Five hours ago, I would have said no.
Now, I don’t know.
“Is there any reason for me to stay?” I ask quietly. “If we go back, we’re free of this mess. I take over for Andreyevich. I’ll find a position for you. Kolya… I don’t know if he’d want to come, but it would be better for him to lie low for a while anyway.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Boris says. He gives me a sad smile. “There are other fish in the sea, Boss. Russian fish, even. You’ll be able to whisper sweet nothings in the most beautiful language in the world.”
“No.” I shake my head decisively. “I’m going to give up fishing. I tried, but clearly I’m no good at it.”
“Nah. It just takes a while before you find your best catch.” Boris stands up then. “I’m gonna head to bed. Don’t go anywhere without me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wait for Boris to leave, then pull out my phone. I find the text conversation with Micah. Most of it is deleted already, thanks to the settings of my app.
Ilya
Tell me you’re all right.
I wait, but I don’t expect an answer. It’s almost two a.m. Micah is probably asleep already.
Asleep, in Adam’s arms.
I shudder at the thought.
Ilya
Don’t let anyone erase you.
Once I send it, I get up and head to my own bedroom.
I’ll make my decision in the morning.