Chapter 2 - Tatiana
The sky-high heels pinched my feet. The pushup bra dug into my ribcage. Trepidation had my heart skipping erratically in my chest, like a stone poorly thrown across the water. I looked down and tugged on my skirt, much shorter and tighter than anything I normally wore.
I parked my rental car around the corner and got out, my ankles threatening to revolt when forced to help me balance on the uncomfortable shoes.
The air was hot and dry, with a faint odor of something burning somewhere.
I took a step forward, dodging a crumpled soda can someone tossed as they hurried past me in the opposite direction.
Behind me, there were people, but I wouldn’t dare count on them if things went sideways.
And how could they not go sideways? I was in over my head just by being in LA.
Was I really going to do this?
It was hard to believe a week ago, a mere seven days, I was safely nestled in my fortress in Moscow, blithely learning the dying arts of fine textile manufacturing from my mentor, without a care in the world. Sheltered and pampered and breezing through life.
Oh, I knew what was out there, but it would never touch me. Not anymore.
Then everything went dark from Papa, the man who made that secure life possible for me.
Two days without hearing from him were odd.
We spoke or texted every day unless things were hectic with his current business deals or he was off fighting dragons, but then he always let me know he’d be out of pocket.
An entire week without a word was bizarre.
Unheard of. Especially after his last message.
Don’t talk to anyone. Stay put. Don’t worry.
Impossible. Especially after not another peep, and when he’d clearly been stressed out the last time I spoke with him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from me.
That was Papa, always keeping me out of everything, and usually, I was fine with that, content with pretending he was a normal businessman.
He never wanted me to have anything to do with the Bratva, and after my mother was killed when I was little, I was happy to go along with that.
However, I knew what went on. I knew what it meant when someone disappeared. And it was never good.
So how could I stay put? How could I keep from worrying? And as for not talking to anyone? Well, no one would talk to me, especially not the powerful Fokins, the family he’d been working alongside since well before I was born.
I always thought I could count on the Fokins, and in the past, that was true, but regarding finding Papa, they left me high and dry. The last cryptic message I received before they completely cut me off told me that Papa had made his bed and now he had to lie in it.
What the hell did that mean? His assistant in Tokyo only told me to do what my father said, leaving me with an equally cryptic message before telling me she was going into hiding until everything was settled. But what needed settling?
No answers, and the longer I waited around, the more fearful I became that the worst might have happened.
I was freaking out and had to leave my bubble.
No one in Moscow knew anything, and I didn’t know anyone in Tokyo besides my father’s business partner, and Papa’s assistant had been adamant about not going to Konstantin Fokin for anything.
Not that I would have, anyway, since I was furious with him even more than the rest of the Fokins.
Konstantin should have had Papa’s back. If I were truly all alone in the world now, it was at least partly because of him and his reckless business deals.
It didn’t sit well with me at all that shortly after my father disappeared, Kon was racing to Los Angeles, where his American cousins ruled over the city with an iron fist. Just leaving him high and dry.
But he had to have a reason to end up there.
Following Kon might give me some clues to where Papa was.
In LA, I learned what I already feared. The Yakuza had something to do with all of it.
The organization that probably rightfully wanted Konstantin dead might have taken my father.
I had no idea why. Traversing mazes of intrigue wasn’t my strong suit.
I liked untangling long skeins of actual thread, not threads of dangerous plots.
But I refused to believe my father was already dead, and I wouldn’t give up trying to find him.
That was why I was in a strange city, in a bad part of town, dressed in a scandalous outfit, about to try to fake my way into what I’d determined was the Yakuza headquarters.
I knew who I had to find, but not the least little clue how to go about it.
All I knew was that my pinched and painful feet were getting me closer and closer to the building. My knees were practically knocking together when a stern guard came out before I got within five feet of the door.
What did I do now?
Whatever it took.
Smiling widely, I hurried forward as if I weren’t scared of him and the gun strapped to his side. Thrusting out my hand, I breathily introduced myself by the fake name I painstakingly made up that morning as I picked at my room service toast.
“Raina Forest,” I said, batting my heavily mascara’d lashes at him. Oh God, the name sounded so stupid as I said it out loud, but thankfully, the tight red top had him distracted.
There wasn’t even a second when it crossed my mind that using my looks was beneath me. This was to save my father’s life. When the guard refused to shake my outstretched hand, I let it glide down his bicep before dropping it back at my side.
“What do you want?” he asked stonily, but not too stonily. His eyes roamed quickly up and down, and I cocked my hip so he’d get a better view.
“Oh, I should have an appointment,” I said. “I’m scheduled to meet with Riku Yoshida about the therapy session.”
He snorted. “My boss doesn’t do therapy.”
I licked my lips and leaned closer. He didn’t back away, and for a brief moment I wondered if I could get his gun out of the holster, snap off the safety, and have it aimed at his head before…
yeah, no. I could already picture myself flat on the ground the second my hand went anywhere near it.
I may have been untrained, but I wasn’t an idiot.
Instead, I tried to force a twinkle into my eyes.
“Massage therapy,” I said, winking for good measure. “We met last night, and he booked me right away.”
Now I prayed that Riku actually went out last night to a place where he might meet a freelance massage therapist. For no damn reason whatsoever except that I was about to explode from the tension in my chest, I laughed.
The guard joined in, and I relaxed the tiniest amount. Was this going to work?
“That’s cute, honey, but he’s not here.”
My brain revolted, and I couldn’t pivot to a new story quick enough. “I can wait,” I said. “I’m sure he told me to meet him at this address at this time.”
“And I’m just as sure he didn’t. Now move along and try to drum up business elsewhere.”
I looked down to hide the burning that rose in my cheeks.
“I hope he’s not too mad at you,” I said, gathering the last of my courage at the same time I forced down the bile rising in my throat.
“Look. Why don’t I work on you while I wait for him?
Surely you’ve got a private office where I could get you nice and relaxed? ”
I was going to puke. This was way too far. When I managed to look up, the guard gave me an appraising look. I prayed for him to say yes; at the same time, I prayed harder for him to say no.
“Cute,” he repeated, a mocking smile on his hard face. “You can be here when I get off work tonight, and I’ll take you up on that offer, but you’re not getting in there without the express permission of my boss. Who I’ve already told you isn’t here.”
I cut my losses and left before I passed out, still not giving up. The guy thought I was attractive, and maybe he wasn’t joking about meeting up later. This wasn’t a bust. I might still get information if I could find the courage to show up and face him again tonight.
Papa would kill me for even thinking about it, but Papa wasn’t around, was he? I was on my own, and desperate times called for desperate measures. I only needed to regroup and rethink, and maybe find a way to buy a gun before tonight.
Nothing was off the table except crying, though my eyes were getting a bit blurry as I made a show of swaying my hips until I turned the corner and was out of sight of the guard.
I absolutely was not going to cry because then I’d never stop.
The fear and anxiety of being so far out of my comfort zone that I might as well have been on Mars was bad enough, but the worry over Papa, the doubt that he was still alive at all, kept threatening to drop me.
Not going to happen. Nothing was going to take me out of this fight.
As I gathered the last shreds of my courage and determination, a car zipped up behind me at an alarming speed, slamming to a halt directly next to me. I swiveled on my towering heels and staggered back, gearing up to run, but a man in a mask was already on top of me.
Literally. I was on the ground, pressed beneath his rock-hard body. In an instant, both my hands were locked in one of his while his other huge palm clapped over my mouth. Not that anyone would have come running if I got out a single shout.
It was all over in another blink as he tossed me into the trunk of his car and slammed it shut. Total darkness as the engine revved and the car peeled out, jolting me backward. I scrabbled for the emergency latch, but it had been disabled, and I was truly trapped. The man was a pro at this.
It didn’t matter if no one heard me or if anyone would help. I let loose and screamed like I had never screamed before.