Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
“If you need anything,” Ilya says, “you only have to ask. Anything at all.”
“She’s sorted,” Yan says a tad forcefully.
Inwardly, my smile grows even broader. I guess Ilya shouldn’t push Yan’s newfound tolerance too far.
Ilya turns to Yan. “I came to tell you I just got a call from our connection. All’s handled. They’ve cleaned up. The shootout was staged as the last bloody battle of the drug war. They’ve identified the man who shot Mina.”
“Who was that creep?” I ask.
“Stjepan Filipović, Dimitrov’s second-in-command. Rumor has it, they’d been clashing horns over territory and money for the last couple of years. Filipović wanted bigger cuts and a say in how the business was managed. His connection to Dimitrov could never be proven until his corpse happened to be found in the same room as Dimitrov’s. The feds got a search warrant for his house and questioned his staff. One of them talked in exchange for immunity.” Ilya looks between us. “Guess what? He was plotting against Dimitrov, turning their drug suppliers against him with bribes. The idea was to force Dimitrov’s early retirement with a bullet in his brain. The meeting at the Hotel Paris came as a golden opportunity. It was Filipović’s chance to get rid of Dimitrov. Three of the five guards had been bought. The minute we were dead, they were to kill Dimitrov and the remaining two guards. The informant didn’t say anything about the painting being fake; he only knew Filipović wanted to blame the killings on a deal gone wrong. Mina was a bonus. Filipović was hoping to cash in on the five mill on her head.”
“What?” I gasp.
Yan smacks Ilya upside the head. “She doesn’t know about that part yet.”
“Oh.” Ilya offers me an apologetic smile.
“Five million?” I utter. “Someone put five million on my head?”
“Gergo. Don’t worry,” Yan says with menace. “I’ve doubled it on his head.”
Oh, my God. I’m a walking target. “I’m putting you in danger. Hanna, Lena, all of you.”
“Nobody save for us, Lena, and Hanna knows you’re here,” Yan says. “We’re safe.”
“Anton is using the storeroom as a base to monitor our surroundings,” Ilya says. “You don’t have to worry about anything except getting better. Speaking of which, I’m going to help Anton carry some of the heavier stuff.” He winks at me. “I’ll catch you later, malyshka.”
“All the loose ends are tied up,” I say when Ilya is gone, “with the exception of Gergo.” I never thought betrayal could feel like a physical burn in your stomach.
“Not for long,” Yan says darkly. He turns sideways to the window, staring at the gardens with tense shoulders and a clenched jaw.
“What’s wrong?”
A heartbeat passes before he speaks. “Lena told me.”
“Told you what?”
He looks back at me. The pain splayed over his face is so raw it rips my chest open. “That you have cancer.”
Shit. No. This isn’t how I wanted him to find out.
“That you’d been in remission for sixteen months,” he continues. “You didn’t cut off your hair when you left the military. It fell out after your chemo treatment. You must’ve barely recovered the night I abducted you in Budapest. And now it’s back.”
“Yan,” I say achingly. I should’ve told him the minute I came to, but I desperately wanted to pretend we were just another regular couple, at least for a short while.
“That’s why you got the hummingbird tattoo—a symbol of life, survival.”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you came here when you ran away? For Lena to run tests?”
I avert my gaze. “I suspected when the nose bleeds and the bruising started.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I dare to meet his eyes again. “Things were… different between us.”
“You were my prisoner.” His tone is thick with self-loathing. “How could you trust me?”
I know what his uncharacteristic bout of guilt is about. It’s about grief. It’s about losing someone when you’ve only just discovered you love that person. “It’s not your fault.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Why didn’t you tell me when things were different?”
“I wanted to finish the Dimitrov job. I needed the money for Hanna, and I didn’t think you’d let me if you knew the truth.”
“Damn right,” he says savagely. “Still, you should’ve confided in me. I took care of it.”
“Took care of what?”
“I made a donation in Hanna’s name, enough to secure her stay and cover the bills for the rest of her life.”
My chest squeezes tight with a mixture of joy and relief. “Yan. Why would you do that?”
“Why do you think?”
Because he loves me. Despite the ordeal of the last twenty-four hours and what’s yet to come, my heart soars with the knowledge. This is the purest portion of my entire life.
“You should’ve told me, Mina. Fuck, how could you keep this from me?”
“You’ve kept things from me, too,” I point out gently. “You didn’t tell me you’d made a donation.”