Chapter Nineteen
Clare
Catching some z’s just gets harder every night.
Tonight is no exception.
No matter what I do, I can’t get rid of the tension on the back of my neck. I have spent so much time staring up at the ceiling that I have located every little crease on its paint. I have tried reading online books on boring topics like decluttering. Normally, this last method should have made my eyes cross within minutes.
It didn’t.
Half an hour into that book, my eyes were still wide open.
Of course, there’s an explanation for this.
I’m worried about Leonid and Ivan.
They’re both out there, fighting their enemies. Putting their lives on the line. Worse, neither of them has bothered calling me with any updates. I know—this stuff can’t be discussed over the phone. Yet, they don’t need to go through details. Simple statements would do just fine, like, “Hey, I’m okay. Get some sleep.” The notion of me calling them is out of the question. I have no idea what they’re up to. A ringing or a buzzing phone could spell disaster, for all I know.
I toss my phone down on the bed in frustration, wondering what in the world to use next. But, just as I tap my fingers on the sheets, two consecutive noises from outside give me cause for concern. Two sets of tires screech, cars skidding across the dirt.
I roll out of bed to the sound of car doors opening and slamming shut. A glance out the window provides a clue. A black van is parked in front of a red one, a dust cloud forming over them.
Loud, roaring voices fill the air, talking over one another. I hear the front door flying open and banging into the wall behind it. I hurry to my bedroom door, buckets of cold sweat washing over me. I reach the railing only to find Leonid, Dmitri and Dr. Yuschenko in the living room. When Dmitri steps aside, I’m able to see the reason behind the yelling.
Ivan is lying on a stretcher. His eyes are shut, his entire torso exposed. He’s perfectly still, a small patch of black just below his shoulder.
“Oh my God!” I squeal, hurtling off. I run down the stairs. “What the hell happened?”
“Ivan was shot,” Leonid informs me, his weak voice showcasing his sadness.
“For the last time, you two,” Dr. Yuschenko groans, “get out and let me do my job. Ms. Jensen, the same goes for you.”
“Come on,” I urge, gesturing Leonid and Dmitri away from Ivan. “He’s right. We’re not helping here.”
Leonid snorts in frustration and walks out the open door. I throw one last glance down at Ivan, biting my lower lip. Desperation rises within me. The mighty Bratva captain has fallen. I’m anxious to know more, but at the same time, I’m eager to satisfy the doctor’s request. Of all the people around Ivan, he’s the only one who can help him. So, I close the door behind me and join Leonid and Dmitri outside. Both are silent. Dmitri is heading away; Leonid uses a tissue to wipe some sweat from his brow.
“Talk to me,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
“It all went horribly wrong, right from the start,” Leonid mutters, gazing into the void. “The bastard that tried to blow us up? We found him. We ambushed him in a parking lot. But we underestimated him—Ivan and I agreed to keep our men out of this, because we wanted to go it alone. That guy had two of his buddies with him. At the last second, they made us. We were pinned down. If they hadn’t left, we’d probably be dead now.”
“Dear God,” I sigh, running both of my hands through my hair. “Why didn’t you have any backup? I mean, what guarantees did you have he’d be alone?”
“None,” he answers, returning his attention to me.
I take a few seconds to consider a comeback. His glistening eyes say what his mouth can’t—or won’t. Two tears roll down his face.
My heart pounds like a war drum in my chest. I can’t believe this... My tough Leonid is actually crying.
Tears rising in my own eyes, I can’t hold them back. I put my fingers over my mouth, feeling moisture on my cheeks.
“Damn it,” I whisper, staring up at him. “I can’t take this. First it was you. Now Ivan, too?”
“That’s part of the deal, Clare,” he explains, his voice rising in volume and nerve. “It comes with the territory.”
“Screw the territory!” I yell, taking a step closer to him. “You and Ivan are supposed to look out for each other! How could you let this happen?”
“It did,” he continues, his voice slower than usual. “There’s nothing we can do to change that.”
“You...” I pause halfway through my sentence and grab him by the lapels of his jacket with firm hands. Still, once we’ve made eye contact, I feel my strength leaving my body. Tremors start at my shoulders and shoot all the way down to my fingertips. I duck my head, more tears spilling out of my eyes as I bump into his chest.
Leonid wraps his arms around my waist, keeping his mouth shut.
Emotion runs rampant through my system. The image of Ivan lying on that stretcher dominates my thoughts. I’m shaking in Leonid’s embrace. My brain is being pulled in a hundred different directions. Questions form and disappear in moments, all of them destroyed by a single desire: to stay right where I am; to not move a muscle.
Leonid’s arms are my refuge. My shelter for dark times like this. I’m not going anywhere. I just want to be sheltered by him for the time being. To hide from awful events like his brother’s shooting.
Ivan
A rhythmic beep.
A green screen is to my left, depicting a spiking line.
A feeling of tightness over my shoulder makes me wince, my eyes settling on a man at the foot of the bed.
Leonid.
Leaning against the railing, I can barely recognize him. The entire left sleeve is missing from his shirt. The rest of it is creased, his tie missing. I can make out droplets of sweat across his cheeks and forehead. Dark circles under his eyes betray his sleeplessness. This isn’t the Leonid I know. The clean-cut, well-groomed man is gone. He looks like someone who’s been through a car crash.
“Hi,” I whisper. A burning sensation spreads high up my chest, making me grit my teeth.
“Don’t speak.” His words come out more like a request than a demand. “Yuschenko said the drugs would take a while to kick in.”
“Your shirt,” I remark, tossing a quick glance down at his shoulder.
“I tore it up to stop the bleeding,” he explains. “Do you know where we are?”
I look around. The setting seems familiar. Light blue walls, a bar in the corner and a pool table in the middle of the hall. Cues are on a rack on the wall, waiting for someone to pick them up.
“Your safe house basement,” I say, my voice weak. “How...?” I wonder. “I don’t remember.”
He purses his lips and shoves his hands into his pockets. “It doesn’t matter now. You survived. That’s what counts.”
“I fucked up, didn’t I?” I ask him, knowing that I don’t have the strength to go on any further. Leonid doesn’t like to confront anybody when they’re down. He prefers head-to-head confrontations on equal terms. I may be in pain, but my memory works just fine.
“Simeone got away, Ivan,” he says, his tone deeper. “He’s probably laughing at us as we speak.”
That name sends images of what happened right back into my mind. The scraping of my watch across the hood of a car. Three Italian goons pulling their guns out. A hail of fire coming our way. The pain of a bullet in my body. Me being blasted back and slammed into a wall.
I was right. This was my mistake. I was the one who gave away our position.
Three sets of footsteps grab Leonid’s attention. He faces the right part of his basement, Viktor and his guards strutting closer. I can read concern on his face, although our Pakhan isn’t known for his tender heart.
“Look at you,” he says in a stiff voice near the foot of my bed. “You bring shame to the Bratva. Both of you.”
“I’m okay, boss,” I tell him, not liking his cold stance.
“What?!” Viktor growls, tossing a vicious glare over at me.
“You heard me,” I insist. “I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”
He walks closer and throws his arm over my chest, his thumb pressing into my wound.
I feel like someone has shoved a red-hot piece of iron into my body. I jerk upwards, a cry of agony bouncing back off the walls of Leonid’s basement.
“Are you okay now?!” Viktor wonders, his eyes darkening with anger.
“Boss, boss!” Leonid shouts, causing Viktor to whip his head in his direction. “He didn’t mean it, okay? He’s in a lot of pain—please, don’t make it worse than it is.”
“He should be!” The Pakhan yells, yanking his arm away. “Dmitri told me what happened. He almost got you both killed.”
“That’s true,” Leonid confirms with a nod. “But we’re both alive.”
“Only just,” Viktor grumbles, striding away from me. “You should have known better, Leonid. You went there alone? Just the two of you against an Italian gangster?”
“We underestimated him,” Leonid admits, his tone riddled with guilt. “We should have taken at least some of our men with us.”
“This time? Maybe,” Viktor says, speaking his mind. “Next time? No. You know why? Because there won’t be a next time. You tried ambushing him; it didn’t work. Simeone makes money for the mafia, or else they would have killed him. Italians protect their golden boys. They’ll have a security detail on him from here on out.”
“Then how will we get to him?” Leonid wonders, throwing his arms out to the side.
“You figure it out,” Viktor commands, his icy stare lingering on my brother. “I thought you were smart, Kovalev. You’ve been proving me wrong often lately. Too often for your own good.”
Snapping his fingers, Viktor turns away, his security walking alongside him.
“He doesn’t mean that,” I tell Leonid, holding in a grunt. Viktor doesn’t let a chance to show his brutality go to waste. He doesn’t hold back, even when it comes to one of his captains.
“I know, but he’s right,” Leonid argues. “We can forget about ambushing Simeone. He’ll be too well protected. Ivan, look...” He stops talking and focuses back on me. “We know what we’re dealing with now. So, when you’re all healed, we’ll devise a plan to take out Simeone. Sleep tight, okay?”
“Okay,” I nod, looking at him through unfocused eyes. Our Pakhan has a point—I can’t deny that. We must find another way to finish what Simeone started. Whatever it is, it can’t entail me and Leonid lying in wait in a dark corner.
We must prepare better. We must do everything in our power to make sure that our enemy doesn’t see us coming. If we don’t, we are going to lose this battle, and he’ll be able to brag to his buddies about how he managed to take out two Bratva captains.