Page 69 of Babies for the Boss
“You risked federal involvement for revenge over one man?”
My jaw grits. “Kirill Andreeva was not simply one man. He was a good man. And you had him killed just to get my attention, as the note said.”
“And then you tricked me into killing my brigadier, thinking he went to Interpol.” He smirks. “The artistry of it is impressive, Pavel.”
“Everyone always forgets the other three people in the car you bombed to get Daniel. Do you even remember their names?”
“Does it matter?” He begins to circle me, fists at the ready.
“Names don’t matter to men like you. That is why your name will be forgotten when you’re gone.” I circle in kind.
He’s the first to swing. He’s better than I expected. I will say this without qualification—Fedor Vinogradov has spent seven yearsbecoming something more dangerous than what he was. He is fast and brutal and trained, which is not something I had fully prepared myself for.
His right hook swings wide, though, and I fit in the pocket, tapping the brachial nerve from the inside of that arm to light him up. Then I spin backward against him, crashing us both to the floor. I stomp on his groin to propel myself from his body just in time to catch the flash of a blade in the low light. I roll to my hands and knees as he slashes my forearm, then pop that bloody elbow into his throat, crushing his windpipe.
He clutches helplessly at his throat, nearly stabbing himself there before remembering to drop the knife. His eyes are wide as his throat works against him now.
“This is an undignified death, Fedor.” I sit on the stool in the corner. “The only kind you deserve. No one will miss you. The only time someone mentions your name will be to warn others what I am capable of. Nobody will mourn you. No one will weep. If there is an afterlife, you will go to the worst of the hells because you can’t even speak to confess your sins or beg forgiveness.” I lean forward over his twitching face, watching the light slowly leave his eyes. “When you get there, tell the other devils not to bother me yet. I still have work to do.”
His eyes go blank, and it is done.
The drive home is quiet. My men are secure, my wounded will live, and the compound is being cleared with the thoroughness I require. We lost no one on our side. Fedor’s men are a total loss, bar the three or four who escaped.
I do not mind them. Hired hands who live to tell the tale will make me into a rumor. A threat. A dark legend. All of which serve my purpose.
The mansion is dark when we arrive except for the light in the upstairs bedroom, which means she’s awake. Waiting. Aware.
I go upstairs.
She’s sitting up in bed with a book she’s not reading, and she looks at me when I come in. There is a multitude of feelings on her face. Anger. Hurt. Worry. Betrayal. More, I’m sure of it.
But there is one worry I can put to rest. “Fedor is dead. I killed him.”
She exhales, and it is a full-body thing. “Then it’s over.”
“One battle.” I come and sit on the edge of the bed. “There will be more. There are always more. This world does not run out of men like Fedor—it produces them, continuously.”
She’s very still, watching me.
“I love you more than I have ever loved anything.” The words break my voice. “More than I knew I was capable of. You and the children are—” I stop, because the sentence does not have an ending that is sufficient. “I’m sending you to Chicago. A friend, Sister Mary Patrick, will be there to take care of you. You will pack in the morning.”
25
MOLLY
“No.I am not packing in the morning. Or ever.”
He looks at me. “Molly?—”
“No.” I move the book off my lap, and I sit up straighter. “I have listened to my husband after he lied to me. Multiple times. After he abandoned me in the middle of the night with guards, warning them to watch out for me or else.”
“You heard that?”
“Your voice carries, husband. If you didn’t want me to hear you, then you should have that door soundproofed. I have heard everything you said, and I understand it, and I’m telling you that my answer is no.”
He’s quiet, watching me, and I can see him preparing the argument. I speak before he can deploy it.
“You have been making decisions about my life since before I knew there was a decision being made,” I say. “Vet. The cameras on my building. The routes and the protocols and the counter-surveillance and all of it—you built a structure around mewithout telling me it existed, and I have made my peace with that, because I understand why you did it and I understand what it cost you and I understand that it came from the same place everything you do comes from, which is the need to protect what matters to you.”
