46. Milana
MILANA
I slip the secret gun in my coat pocket then scoot across the seats, my heart in my throat, my gaze tracking Luca’s and Masha’s every move.
My whole body is quivering, and I want to vomit, but it feels as if there’s this heavy boulder pressing down on me.
Luca was right—Masha was a risk he counted in, whereas I just didn’t consider her as one, because I know her.
But this… We’re all in danger. What the hell is she up to?
And Annushka. She’s so quiet…did Masha drug her? All I want is to have her in my arms, to hold her close and breathe her in. I buckle up once I’m in the passenger seat. As Luca slides into the driver’s seat, I brush my palm over the plastic gun, but I don’t feel in charge at all.
Can I actually do it? Pull it from my pocket, turn, and shoot her? Kill her?
It’s at close range, one bullet. The gun is loaded.
But even this thought seems to tighten the imaginary fingers around my throat.
I struggle to breathe, panicked. I’m not fast enough and don’t have enough experience…
and it’s Masha. Whatever is going on in her mind, whatever this is, she isn’t crazy.
In fact, she’s one of the cleverest women I know, and the Bratva culled every part of her until only this was left. A husk with empty eyes.
I can’t.
Luca reaches for my fingers where they’re cold and quivering on my lap and he squeezes them. I meet his gaze.
“Stay calm,” he whispers, urgently. “Go with the flow. Two vans. We need to lose them first.”
I nod, knowing he’ll be doing everything he can to extricate us from this situation. We are being watched.
Masha slides into the back and kicks the two guns deep under my seat, totally out of reach. I wouldn’t even know what to do with one of them.
“Direct him to the hunting lodge, Milana.”
“That’s a two-hour drive from here!” I turn in my seat to face her, my gaze soaking up Annushka where she is cradled against her chest, asleep in the baby carrier we bought months ago. She’s grown. My heart breaks. If only I could hold her—
“Yes, and we need to stop on the way to pick up…a prop.”
“What the hell is going on?” I can’t shoot Masha. Not when she’s holding my baby like this.
“Look ahead, don’t attract attention from the fuckers in the vans. They will follow us, but we can lose them along the way.”
“Not in this fucking car,” Luca grumbles next to me as he turns on the ignition. “Which way, princess?”
Princess.
With one word, he pulls me back from the ledge.
All the times he’s said it, first jokingly, teasingly, with ever-growing concern, and then with passion while we were making love, compounds its meaning to me in this moment: he’s got this.
He has both me and Annushka. Whatever happens, we will get out of here alive.
I exhale softly, slowly, suppressing the anxiety-riddled rage and helplessness bubbling in me.
“Turn right, go straight for about two miles. Then left, and that road will eventually connect with the highway going east out of Saint Petersburg.” To the hunting lodge. Where Masha has spent so much time lately, hell-bent on revenge she’s been plotting for seven long years.
As soon as he pulls out of the parking space and into the traffic, I glance back.
“How are you?” I ask, trying to gauge her mood beyond the insanity of her pointing a gun at Luca’s side.
“No funny business, cowboy,” she says as she pokes his biceps with it.
“Gotcha,” he says, but there’s no smile in his voice.
She looks at me, answers me in Russian, locking Luca out of our conversation.
“I’m at peace. Finally. Just trust me. One last time. I know this all looks crazy, but there’s no other way you’d go with my plans. I couldn’t explain them over the phone either, or in messages.”
Her other hand cradles Annushka’s head, and my heart stills at how gently she’s holding her. There’s so much love and tenderness in that small gesture. The love she could have had for her own child, if it hadn’t been conceived through violence and force.
Annushka stirs, her little mittened hands up, pressing against Masha’s chest.
“She’s grown so much. I want to…I need to—”
“I know. Not yet. Let’s first get to the meeting point.” Masha puts the gun down to pull off Annushka’s cap and gloves. “She’s too hot. Look who’s here, malyshka,” she coos. “Mama has come for you, just as I told you she would.”
I well up as an array of emotions floods me.
Joy that she’s here, looking healthy. Fear for our future.
Determination that this will not be our end.
I lean in to curl a finger around my baby’s chubby little hand.
She clutches at it, and tears run down my cheeks as relief floods through me.
I cling to her and she clings to me, but I know it’s more of an instinct with her than intentional.
“I’m so sorry,” Masha murmurs, and our gazes meet in the dark. “But you’ll see, I’ve planned it all out and it’s going to be so perfect. You’ll walk away and will never have to look over your shoulder again. Nobody will know she’s yours and Dimitri’s.”
I don’t know what to think and can’t see where she’s going with this. She is crying too, but so quietly. A woman trained to withhold her emotions, too hurt, too battered, and too ruined to have tears left that could rip from her chest in agony.
“Did you bring her things?” Masha asks after a long stretch of silence.
“Yes, I have a baby bag for her with enough for three days. It’s in the suitcase on the seat next to you.”
“Good. I left everything behind. Even my phone. Hopefully, they will have missed me carrying her.” She picks up the gun again, holding it up with a weak wrist, not half as threatening as she was before. This is eating at her too.
Luca doesn’t notice, too focused on the road and the traffic, looking into the rear-view mirror every few seconds. “The black van is following us.”
“Yes. I thought it would,” Masha says, not glancing back. “See if you can lose him on the highway.”
He curses under his breath. “I don’t know the on- and off-ramps, but I’ll try.”
Snowflakes are drifting down from the sky, white flecks, soft and soundless, melting as soon as they hit the car.
“Use the weather. It’s in our favor,” Masha says. “They won’t be able to swerve and speed as quickly as you can.”
“Right. Buckle up then. Hold her close. Are you even strapped in?”
His tone cuts, sending a shiver down my spine. Luca meets Masha’s gaze in the rear-view mirror, and I sense my husband considering our situation and options. He isn’t going to follow all of Masha’s alternative plans, not without a proper explanation. Not if he can find an easy exit.
“Only over my hips. You need to take the next ramp to get on the highway.”
“Fine.”
As soon as he’s on the highway, he shifts in his seat, grips the steering wheel, and presses down on the accelerator.
The tiny car shoots forward, but it hasn’t got enough power.
What it lacks in speed though, Luca makes up for in agility as he weaves through the traffic, putting distance between us and the black van.
“You need to take the next exit,” Masha says, glancing behind her.
“Once you’re off the highway, turn right and keep going.
There’s a row of warehouses and after that, the road splits.
Take the left split and park in the parking lot.
There’ll be other cars to disguise us. We’ll wait to see if they catch up with us, or if they even drive past.”
“Got it.” Luca is capitalizing on the downhill slope and doesn’t indicate he’s taking the off-ramp. Instead, he switches off his headlights, slips into the exit, and hardly stops at the corner before he speeds off and follows the rest of Masha’s instructions in the dark.
“You’re fucking crazy,” I mutter under my breath, but there’s almost no traffic. From afar, we’ll be a ghost passing.
“You coined it as Mafia madness.”
As soon as we’re in the parking lot, he kills the car and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Duck down, princess. You too, Masha.”
We hunker down and wait.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
The silence stretches.
Annushka whimpers. Masha coos to hush her. My heart bleeds.
“Nothing.”
“Give it five more minutes,” Masha says, and we wait, tension in the car building as we fog up the windows. She’s unzipping the suitcases now, pulling out Annushka’s baby bag and checking the cash in the other one. She’s tossing things at random on the floor, making sure it’s all there.
“Fogging up the car like this is going to give us away,” Luca says as he draws a smiley face on the window which has become a canvas.
“Let’s hope we’ve lost our tail. Drive to the last row, then go around the warehouse. Keep the lights off. Someone is there waiting for us with a new car. We’re going to do a swap. Leave everything behind.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” Luca bites out. “Everything?”
“Everything but Annushka’s things.” She pokes him with the gun. “You can thank me later.”
Luca shakes his head but starts the car again and crawls forward. I’ve popped up in my seat, scouring the area for people. It’s dead out there, awash with snow falling faster and denser. We still have a way to go to the hunting lodge, and that in this weather.
When we round the warehouse, two cars are parked at the back. There are no lights, and my heart pounds in my chest. “Who are these people, Masha?”
“Traders. On the black market.” She’s poking Luca again. “Pull up on the right. Turn off the car, leave the keys and get out, hands where they can see them. Don’t pull out any other weapons. These guys don’t play nice.”
“Just my vibe,” Luca says drily. “To think I came all the way to Russia and still found my tribe.”
He does as she instructs, and as he walks to the front of the vehicle, two men step out of the shadows, light glinting off their guns. The one trains his barrel on Luca, as the other pats him down. The guy nods, telling his partner Luca has the all-clear.
“Right. Our turn. Take the baby bag,” Masha says as she holds it out for me between the seats. “You get out now. They won’t touch you.”
Annushka starts to wail, and I’ll thank her forever for these three seconds of distraction as I reach for the gun from my coat pocket and slip it into the baby bag with the satellite phone. I climb out of the car, holding up my hands as one of the guns swings in my direction.
Masha gets out. She’s put Annushka’s mittens and cap back on, and my darling is getting unhappier by the second, but Masha ignores her and greets the men in Russian. “Where’s my purchase?”
“Here.” A man pops open the trunk, and Masha leans in to look.
All I can see from where I’m standing is some sort of cooler box.
She lifts the lid to stare at the content, touching it tentatively before she retracts her hand.
She convulses. Swallows. Shuts it firmly.
She cradles little Annushka’s head as she tries to soothe her, then closes her eyes for a few seconds, seeming to pray.
“Thank you. The money is in the back seat,” she whispers as she steps away.
“Five hundred thousand?”
“Crisp fresh dollars, straight from the States.”
Gazes dart around the dark as one man rounds the car with a money counter to verify that the money is all there. Luca cocks his brow at me. This wasn’t our plan. The money was meant for Masha, to get her out of Russia. To get us out of Russia.
Masha is swaying rhythmically to try and calm Annushka.
At this rate, anybody with an open window will hear her, and in this location, it’s a bad idea to attract attention.
I want to wrestle her away and whisper to her that she’s safe, to be calm, but it’s all lies and I don’t dare step a toe out of line.
“Good. It’s all there,” the man says as he closes the car door. He has the cabin bag with the cash in his hand. There goes the original suitcase our magic 3D plastic gun got hidden in, broken up into different parts.
I shoot Luca a look. He bites his jaw. It’s a goner. We won’t be able to travel with the gun unseen now.
We’re fucked, aren’t we? At least I have the gun and we can toss it even if we don’t get to use it.
“Nice doing business with you. We’re off,” the one man says, taking the lead and indicating for his partner to get into our car as he heads toward one of the other cars they came in.
“We’ll park the rental on the other side of this warehouse tomorrow and you can pick it up then.
We’ll leave the key under the driver’s seat. Nobody would look for it there.”
We watch as they drive off with our car, leaving us in the middle of nowhere with a baby, snow dusting our coats. Our only option is to take the car they left us. The car with Masha’s black-market purchase in the trunk.
Luca drops his hands. “Well, this took an unexpected turn. I suppose it’s par for the course now.”
Masha’s still holding her gun, now aimed at Luca’s temple. I might not know this Masha in front of me, but I know she’s always been a good shot. All that fucking clay pigeon shooting in England.
“All is going as planned,” she says with a shrug. “We take their car now. The black van won’t know it’s us.”
“Do you even trust those fuckers?” Luca asks, seeming to relax in his role as puppet to its master.
“More than I trust any man in the Bratva.”
I slump against the car, inhaling a ragged breath. I no longer want to know what she’s up to, what she’s planned. I only have one question. “What’s in the cooler box, Masha?”