Chapter 49: Devil’s Lair: Chapter 49

I wake up with my body humming with contentment and my mind filled with greater peace than I’ve ever known. Last night was everything I thought it would be, and more. I can still feel her, smell her, taste her on my lips. Smiling, I roll over, patting the sheets for her small, warm body, and when my hand encounters nothing but a bunched-up blanket, I open my eyes and survey the room.

Chloe is not here, which is disappointing but not surprising, given the bright sunlight. She’s probably already had breakfast and is teaching Slava; maybe they’re even out on a hike. Normally, I would’ve heard her get up—I’m a light sleeper—but I was coming off thirty-plus hours with no sleep and the jet lag kicked my ass hard.

My mood darkens a fraction, my adrenaline levels rising as I think of the video that dominated my thoughts on the flight over, keeping me from getting any shut-eye, and of everything else Chloe told me. The idea that someone out there wants to hurt her, kill her, fills me with incandescent rage, one tempered only by the knowledge that they can’t get to her in my compound.

The precautions that keep my family safe from our enemies will keep Chloe safe from hers while I work to figure out who they are.

Eager to get started on that, I get up and fire off an email to Konstantin, detailing everything I learned last night. Then I hop into the shower for a swift rinse, get dressed, and go in search of Chloe.

I start with my son’s room. Nobody’s there, so I go downstairs. The dining room is empty, but I hear voices from the kitchen, and when I walk in, I’m surprised to find Lyudmila feeding breakfast to Slava all by herself.

He smiles at me shyly, and my chest fills with uncharacteristic warmth as I recall how he greeted me last evening. Even as laser-focused as I’d been on getting answers from Chloe, I couldn’t help reacting to that small, sweet voice calling me Daddy.

I didn’t know how badly I’d yearned to hear it until it happened.

Until she made it happen.

“Good morning, Slavochka,” I murmur, going down on my haunches in front of his chair. Switching to Russian, I ask, “Did you have a good night?”

He nods, eyes big and wary, and my ribcage tightens with a familiar squeezing pain. I want to step away, end the conversation so I can be rid of the discomfort, but instead, I lean into it, letting myself feel it as I smile gently at my son.

He’s so much—too much—like me, but maybe with Chloe in his life, he won’t follow in my footsteps.

Maybe he won’t grow up hating me the way I hated my old man.

“Where is Chloe?” I ask, and my smile broadens as his eyes brighten at the mention of her name.

“I don’t know,” he says shyly and glances up at Lyudmila, who’s putting berries into his bowl of cream of wheat.

“I haven’t seen her this morning,” she says. “Maybe she’s still sleeping?”

My smile fades, an unpleasant feeling stirring low in my gut. I haven’t checked in Chloe’s room, but I assumed she left my bed to start her day, not sleep in hers. Rising to my feet, I tell Slava, “I’m going to go find your teacher. You’re eager for your English lessons, right?”

He nods vigorously, and I grin at him. On impulse, I ruffle his hair the way I’ve seen Chloe do it, and ignoring the surprised look on Lyudmila’s face, I go back upstairs.

The door to Chloe’s room is shut, so I knock and wait a few seconds. When no response comes, I open it and walk in.

The blinds are still closed, blocking most of the daylight, but I can see a small mound on the bed under the covers.

She is sleeping, after all.

A tender smile tugs at my lips as I approach the bed and sit down on the edge. She’s lying turned away from me, the blanket covering her up to her neck, leaving only her hair spread out on the pillow. For some reason, it looks much darker in this light, the golden streaks missing.

Leaning over her, I lift my hand to gently brush the hair off her face—only to jerk my fingers back as my heart launches into a furious gallop.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl at my sister as she rolls over onto her back and blinks open her eyes. “Where is Chloe?”

She blinks a few more times, then slowly sits up. “What?” she says hoarsely, pushing her hair off her face with an unsteady hand. She smells like a drug cocktail, I realize, my fury growing as she asks dazedly, “What are you doing in my room?”

I jackknife to my feet. “Your fucking room?”

She stares up at me. “I don’t…” Her eyes sweep the bedroom, and the confusion on her face slowly morphs into horrified comprehension. “Oh, shit. Chloe.”

My stomach tightens with an awful premonition, and it takes every shred of restraint I possess not to grab and shake her. “Where the fuck is she? What did you do?”

My sister’s spine straightens, her eyes narrowing on my face. “Me? What are you doing in her bedroom?”

“Alina,” I warn through clenched teeth, and whatever she sees on my face convinces her that she can’t fuck with me right now.

“Look, I may have…” She dampens her lips. “I may have told her some things.”

“What things?”

“About you and… and our father.”

Fuck. “What exactly did you tell her?”

“Probably more than I should’ve,” Alina admits, even as her chin lifts defiantly. “But she deserves to know what she’s getting herself into, don’t you think?”

My hands flex at my sides, rage pulsing through every cell in my body. If it were anyone but my sister, they’d already be bleeding out. “So you told her… what? That I killed him? Gutted him like a fucking fish?”

She whitens but doesn’t look away. “I don’t remember, exactly.”

Of course she doesn’t. She was fucking high—still is, probably.

Leaning over the bed, I yank the blanket off her. This is my fault for babying her, letting her wallow in her weakness. “Get up and get dressed,” I bite out as she scrambles back, eyes wide. “We’re going to search this place top to bottom, and when we find her, you’ll tell her that you made it all up. Every last word, understand?”

“Kolya…” There’s a strange note in her voice. “Have you looked in the garage?”

My blood ices over. “What?”

“I found the keys in your bedside drawer,” she says defiantly. “And I gave them back to her. She’s a person, not a thing, and if she wants to leave, you have no right—”

“You fucking idiot,” I whisper, so overcome by rage and terror I can hardly speak. “She’s got assassins after her. If she left here and they get to her…”

And as my sister blanches, I pivot on my heel and sprint to the garage.

Sure enough, the Toyota is gone, the garage door raised.

Cursing violently, I run back into the house—only to nearly mow down Lyudmila, who’s stepped out of the kitchen to see what the ruckus is about.

“Tell Pavel I need him. Now,” I bark into her startled face and race upstairs to my office.

Grabbing my computer, I pull up the footage from the gate cameras and rewind the recording until I see Chloe’s car pulling up to the gate. The time stamp reads 7:05 a.m.—well over two hours ago.

By now, she could be anywhere.

She could be dead.

The thought is so unbearable, so paralyzing, that I cease breathing for a moment. Then logic kicks in.

Unless Chloe’s enemies were camped out right outside my compound, there’s no way they’ve found her so quickly. And with our infrared drones patrolling the area, my guards would’ve known it if they were there.

The most likely scenario is that Chloe is fine, albeit freaked out by Alina’s revelations. I still have time to find her and get her back here, where she’ll be safe.

A fraction calmer, I videocall Konstantin.

“I need you to scan the footage from every camera in a two-hundred-mile radius of my compound for any sighting of Chloe’s car in the last two hours,” I say as soon as my brother’s face fills my screen. “Start with the gas stations—Pavel mentioned the car was low on fuel.”

To Konstantin’s credit, he doesn’t ask any questions. “I’ll get my guys right on it.”

“Call my phone when you have it. I’ll be in the car.”

He nods and disconnects.

I call my guards next. “Get Kirilov and come up to the house,” I order when Arkash picks up. “Full gear. We’re going on a road trip.”

I don’t expect to run into trouble retrieving Chloe, but only an idiot doesn’t prepare for the worst.

“Be there in ten,” Arkash replies.

As I hang up, a knock sounds at my door and Pavel comes in.

“The girl?” he asks tersely, and I nod, already striding toward the wall in the back.

I press my palm to a hidden panel, and a section of the wall slides away, revealing a small room full of weapons and battle gear—the main armory in the house.

“Gear up,” I tell him, stripping off my shirt. “We’re going to get her back.”

I put on a bulletproof vest and button my shirt over it to avoid looking conspicuous. Pavel does the same, and we each strap on several weapons.

If we do run into trouble, we’ll be ready.

Kirilov and Arkash are already pulling up to the house in an armored SUV when we step outside. Pavel and I jump into the backseat, and we tear down the driveway, gravel flying. I don’t have a concrete destination in mind, but there’s only one road leading down the mountain, and wherever Chloe is by the time Konstantin calls me, we’ll be closer to her than if we stay here and wait. Besides, we can start with the nearby gas stations as well, see if someone might’ve spotted Chloe at one of them.

“What happened?” Pavel asks quietly as we clear the gate. “Why did she leave?”

My upper lip curls. “Alina.”

“Ah.” He falls silent then, staring out the window, and I do the same, trying to ignore the heavy thudding in my chest—and the growing pain of betrayal spreading through it.

My zaychik ran.

She left me.

Just like that, without so much as a goodbye.

It’s unreasonable to feel this way, I know. I am the kind of man she should fear and despise. Whatever my sister told her in her drugged-out state must’ve painted me in the worst possible light, but that doesn’t mean Alina’s story is untrue.

I did kill our father in front of her.

Still, Chloe’s desertion hurts. She gave herself to me. She came willingly into my arms. Last night was so much more than sex, our connection so deep I feel it in my bones. But she must not. Because if she did, she would’ve known I’d never harm her; she would’ve trusted me to protect her. The fact that she’d rather be out there, facing mortal danger, speaks volumes about her opinion of me.

She’s afraid of me.

She thinks I’m a monster.

My jaw hardens, a dark resolve settling in as the car picks up speed. I should’ve kept those keys in a safe, not my nightstand—and I definitely should’ve warned the guards not to open the gate for her car. It didn’t occur to me that she’d run after last night, but it should’ve—and I won’t make that mistake again.

When I get her back, she’s not leaving.

I won’t let her.

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

The first gas station we stop at is manned by a pale, pimply twenty-something with a hint of a beer belly.

“Nope, haven’t seen her,” he says after peering at Chloe’s picture. “Cute chick, though. What’s her deal? She part-Asian? Latina?”

“What about a blue Toyota Corolla circa late nineties?” I ask softly, and whatever the guy sees on my face causes him to lose what little color he possesses. “Any car like that stop by?”

“No, sorry, man.” He gulps. “I would’ve seen it. I’ve only had two other customers today.”

I glance at Pavel, and he jerks his chin toward the exit.

Like me, he doesn’t think the guy is lying.

The next closest gas station is the one by the town. A white-haired cashier looks up from a newspaper as Pavel and I walk in, her rheumy gaze sharpening as she takes in our appearance.

I approach the counter and pull out Chloe’s photo. “Have you seen this girl? Or a blue Corolla circa late nineties?”

The old woman puts on a pair of glasses and carefully examines the photo before looking up at me. “You two cops or something?” she asks in a croaky voice.

I rein in my impatience with effort. “Or something. Have you seen her this morning or not?”

“Not this morning, no.” She squints up at me through her glasses. “Would you look at that pretty face… just like one of them magazines. And so nicely dressed, too. You her boyfriend, dearie?”

My hand tightens on the edge of the counter. “When did you see her?”

“Oh, about a week ago. She stopped by to get gas, asked about a job listing in the paper. I haven’t seen her since, and I told them that.”

Ice fills my chest. “Them?”

“Two fellas, about your height. Came by yesterday, late in the day. Showed me her picture and all. I told them I only saw her that one time, and I have no idea where she went—”

“What did they look like, exactly?” Pavel cuts in as I stand frozen, my mind racing a mile a second.

They’re here.

They know she was here.

Worse yet, they know she was looking at my job listing.

“The two fellas? Well, tall, like I said. One’s got dark hair, a little lighter than his”—she waves at me—“the other’s more like you. You know, salt and pepper, except kind of balding.”

Pavel’s jaw tightens. “Age? Race? Body build?”

“Caucasian. Thirties—forties for the older one, maybe. Kind of big and muscular.” She looks me up and down. “Not as pretty as him, that’s for sure.”

“Anything else?” Pavel demands. “Tattoos, scars? What were they wearing?”

“Jeans, I think. Or khakis? I don’t remember for sure. Black or gray shirts, maybe navy blue. Something dark. No scars, I don’t think. Oh, but”—she brightens—“the older one had a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. I saw the edge of it under his sleeve.”

“Did they ask about the job listing?” I ask, keeping my voice even despite the rage and fear pounding through me.

I have to know how bad the situation is, how close they are to finding her.

The woman nods. “Sure did. Wanted to know all about it, who and what and where. I told them I don’t know for sure, but it was probably that old Jamieson property up in the mountains, the one that was bought out by that rich Russian. Say”—she squints up at Pavel—“where’s that accent of yours from? You boys wouldn’t happen to be from—”

“Thank you,” I say tersely and pull out my phone to call Konstantin as we hurry back to the car.

As soon as my brother picks up, I rattle off the description we’ve gotten and demand an update on the search.

It’s infinitely more urgent that we find Chloe now, before the assassins do.

“Nothing yet,” Konstantin says. “In fact— Wait a minute. Let me call you back. I think we just got a hit.”

I was about to jump into the SUV, but now I pace in front of it, my adrenaline levels climbing with each passing second.

We may already be too late.

They know about my compound and Chloe’s interest in it.

Maybe they weren’t camped out by the gate when she drove out, but they couldn’t have been far.

Spinning around, I rap on the window next to Pavel. “Get a medical team over to the compound,” I tell him tersely. “We might need it.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I snatch it up. “Yeah?”

“No sightings, but we got a partially erased tape,” Konstantin reports. “Same digital signature as the others. Two hours wiped out—and it looks like it was done about a half hour ago. If I had to guess, I’d say they’ve caught her scent and don’t want anyone to know that.”

I’m already halfway inside the car. “Where’s the tape from?”

“A gas station some forty miles west of you. I’ll send you the coordinates.”

I hang up and order Kirilov to hit the gas.