42. Yes, Boss
YES, BOSS
We land a little before midnight. I clear the plane before opening the shut door I sat next to all flight.
Carina is fast asleep, curled in the center of the bed. I smile at the sight, then frown when I notice the near-empty bottle beside the bed and realize she helped herself to more than one glass.
I say her name, and she doesn’t even stir. I’m already working against a clock; I don’t have fucking time for this.
I scoop her up into my arms and carry her past the rows of empty seats.
Carina blinks a couple of times when I jostle her, descending the stairs, but her eyes drift shut again once we’re on solid ground.
“Did you drug her, boss?” Viktor calls.
I ignore him, loading Carina into the back seat of one of the waiting SUVs and slamming the door shut. “Gurin, with me.”
Misha nods, climbing into the passenger side while I get behind the wheel. He’s the most experienced—and discreet—man here. I’m not in the mood to talk, but I might need the backup. It’s common knowledge we use this airport, and the attempted attack on Aleksandr wasn’t that long ago.
I race along the dark roads as fast as I dare, periodically checking on the headlights directly behind us.
Twenty minutes into the trip, Carina wakes up. “Lev?” she questions sleepily.
Misha glances at me. My guess is, he’s confused by the lack of fear in Carina’s voice. She was just abducted from her family and sounds unconcerned.
“We’re almost there.” I watch her sit up and yawn in the rearview mirror. “Put on your fucking seat belt,” I add before pressing harder on the accelerator.
The headlights behind us disappear.
“Anything you want to tell me?” Misha says quietly.
“It’s better if you don’t know,” I tell him, glancing in the rearview mirror again. Still dark.
“How bad?”
“You shouldn’t stick around.”
“I will. If you need backup.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. I dismissed most of what Maksim said earlier … maybe too much. I’ve always followed orders, and men have always followed me. Tonight is the first time I tested if my orders would be obeyed separately from the usual chain of command.
Igor and Aleksandr will be as furious about that as my refusal to let Carina be used. It shows I have more power than I should.
That will cause all sorts of issues in the future. But tonight, it might be the only reason I make it through this.
“I don’t,” I answer Misha. “Thank you.”
He nods, and we settle into silence for the rest of the drive.
I enter through a back gate, the one closest to the garage and the kennel, waved through as soon as the guard on duty sees my face.
Carina says nothing as the main house comes into view, and I try to see Serebryanovo through the eyes of someone who has never been here before.
The huge house is beautiful. And desolate.
I park as close as I can and climb out. Misha does the same.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the drive. “Find out what’s on this.”
He glances at it, then at me. Nods and takes it without asking any other questions. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Lev.”
I do too.
I watch Misha stride toward the garage, then open the rear door. “This way,” I tell Carina.
She scrambles out of the back seat, glancing up at the manor. We ascend the stairs together, passing two guards before we’re inside.
My name echoes a few seconds later, reflecting Igor’s access to the logs.
“Keep walking,” I tell Carina, ignoring my father.
She listens, continuing toward the stairs.
Another louder summons.
“Left,” I say at the top of the stairwell.
“This place is massive,” she comments.
I’m too tense to reply. The farther we get from my father’s office, the closer that conversation becomes.
Finally, we reach my room. I experience a surreal moment, seeing Carina approach the door. Registering she’s here, in Russia, and not as an apparition.
Inside the suite, I flip on more lights. Walk over to the wall and unlock the safe, pulling a gun out and handing it to her.
She bites her lip as she takes it, questions I don’t have answers to swimming in her eyes.
“Lock the door after me. I have a key. If anyone else tries to come in here, shoot.”
Her eyes widen. “What if—”
“Shoot. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Good.” I head for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to deal with some things.”
“Things … like figuring out what to do with me?”
I exhale. “You trust me?”
“Yes. But I … I don’t want to keep running, Lev. But I will. I can if it’ll—”
“Stay here. Shower”—I point at the bathroom—“then eat something”—I point at the small kitchen—“and I will be back soon.”
She hesitates, then nods.
“Drink water. No more vodka.”
She rolls her eyes but says, “Okay.”
I nod, then walk out of the room. The longer I wait, the worse this will be. I hear the lock click after me, confirming Carina listened to my instructions.
Igor is smiling when I enter his office, which is more unsettling than his anger.
Maksim is lounging in one of the armchairs. No Aleksandr, which is a good sign. Igor didn’t deem this important enough to summon him.
“Maksim says you captured the Caruso girl on this secret trip?”
I nod once, and Igor’s smile expands.
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs.”
“The cells are in the basement,” Maksim says, eyes locked on mine.
“She can stay in a guest room,” Igor says, oblivious to what Maksim suspects. “Might make her more cooperative.”
“I don’t think her cooperation will be an issue,” my brother drawls. “She seems … attached to Lev. Ran right to him.”
Igor looks to me, waiting for an explanation.
“She’s innocent,” I state. “And scared.”
“She’ll go back to her family once they agree to our terms.” My father appears gleeful at the prospect. He must have already decided on a demand. “No harm done.”
I nod stiffly.
Igor doesn’t notice. He’s puffed up like a proud peacock, and it’s disconcerting how little his approval affects me.
I risked his wrath, taking the plane without permission, and that didn’t bother me either.
I’m not sure if I should be relieved or disturbed by the shifting priorities.
I don’t have time to decide. I need a plan before this mess blows up in my face.
“Have a drink.” He nods toward the bottle, indicating I should help myself.
“Another time,” I say. “I’m tired.”
Igor doesn’t argue, but the fervor in his expression cools. He hates being told no, even when that exact word isn’t uttered.
I stride toward the door.
“Bring her to me first thing.”
An order, not a suggestion.
“Yes, boss,” I say smoothly.
Then walk away as quickly as I can without looking suspicious.