Chapter 11

Ican't blame her for this. Her head must be all over the damn place. I knew she was going to run before she broke into the sprint. Now, I let her create some distance from the diner, then skirt around to the opposite end of the alleyway. She stops running when she spots me, her mouth hanging open like she thinks I've teleported.

Even startled, even wanting to get away from me, she looks so damn beautiful.

Ania, I'd never hurt you, I almost say, but that's taking it way too far. What does "never"mean in this context? It's not as if we've known each other long enough for never to mean a damn thing.

"Stop," I say instead.

She takes a few steps back, then looks over her shoulder. Again, I can tell she's about to run. I jog, catching her as she's about to round the corner. She spins on me, tears in her eyes, looking so broken. All I want to do is put her back together.

I pull her into my arms. She fights me at first. Then it's like she melts into the embrace. She trembles like all the pain is bubbling out of her, her mother, this situation I've put her in, her battle with food. I clutch her even tighter, trying to help her contain it. Eventually, she wraps her arms around me. I try to tell myself it's just because I'm a warm body. I'm here. I'm offering her comfort. It has nothing to do with me, specifically.

All I know is it feels so good to hold her like this.

"Some escape attempt, huh?" she says, her first words since I caught up with her.

We're driving back across the toward the lodge. Dad hasn't called with an update about Molly. Ania sits with her arms crossed, emphasizing the sharpness of her slim shoulders. She's my perfect ballerina, my woman, the person I need to protect most.

Jesus Christ. What is wrong with me? I barely know this girl, and she barely knows me.

"You did your best," I tell her. "Better than most."

"Do you think anybody saw us?"

"Maybe, but it won't come to anything. The police are slow to take action even when they have all the facts. Plus, we've got connections."

"Who's we?"

"Me. My dad."

"What sort of connections?"

I'm glad she's talking, so I try to keep the conversation going. "We donate generously to several police funds."

"Ah, I see. So if the Sokolovs bribe the cops, it's bad. But if you do it officially, that's fine and dandy."

"Fine and dandy," I repeat with a slight chuckle. "I like the way you talk."

"Too many old books. Too much living in my head."

"You don't need to say it like it's a bad thing."

"It hasn't exactly worked out great for me."

"That's not true. You were in ballet school. You were doing well for yourself. You've got problems, Ania. You're a human being. That doesn't mean you're not doing well. It doesn't mean you're a bad person. You seem like a damn fine person to me."

"Thanks," she says quietly. I think she's going to leave it at that, but then she adds, "I was doing well. That was before you kidnapped me, all so you could push me on a woman who doesn't even want me, who doesn't even care and would've been happier if she never knew I existed."

"If she'd been warned, that would've gone differently."

"How can you be so sure about that?"

"She's still in shock after what happened to her. Scars like that run deep."

"All scars run deep," she says, folding her arms tightly. "Even the ones that seem shallow."

Neither of us says anything, letting the comment hang between us, the pain and truth of it. She's got an intense way of looking at life that appeals to me on a primal level. If I were some deluded lunatic, maybe I'd think fate or some crap was pulling us together. Somehow, I can't believe that, accept it, or feel it.

What can I feel, then? I've experienced nothing like this before, whatever it is.

She says nothing for the rest of the fifty-minute drive. I keep trying to think of things to say, conversations I might start, but it's not as if I'm unaccustomed to silence. It gives me a chance to think.

What is the next step, then? If Molly decides she wants nothing to do with her daughter, do I take her back and pretend this never happened? Do I somehow forget my ballerina?

There it is again—my ballerina. I seriously need to fix that way of thinking.

On the outskirts of the forest, I pull my car up into its hiding spot and look over at Ania. She still has her arms folded, staring straight ahead like she doesn't want to speak to me or anybody.

"Don't worry, I won't run again. Where would I go? I want to lie down."

"That's fine. Let's go."

"I'm so glad I have your permission," she retorts.

"You know I like it when you're sarcastic, right?"

She shoots a look at me, then quickly turns away when a smile begins to touch her lips. It's like she can't help herself. I grin, but then she quickly pushes open the car door like she can't wait to get away from me. I follow her toward the lodge.

I smell it at first: charred wood and smoke. The fire was recent and controlled.

Ania gasps as we come into view. The lodge is still smoldering, black smoke curling into the air. I don't stop to ask questions. I don't let myself think about how they found us. I don't even let myself go through the list of people it could be. The obvious ones who spring to mind are her brothers, but how? And how so fast?

Ania gasps when I sweep her into my arms. I do it just in time. Raised voices come through the trees, saying, "Did you hear a car?"

"Which way?"

I run fast, holding Ania one-handed as I throw open the car door. She wriggles in my grip, but I don't have time to think about how this second kidnapping is much more forceful than the first. Putting her in the driver's seat, I climb in after her. She wriggles into the passenger seat and then immediately goes for the door. I hit my emergency lock, sealing us inside.

Just as I back out of the spot, three men come into view, all of them holding themselves like men capable of violence. If they're with the Sokolovs, I don't recognize them. Maybe the Sokolovs hired them.

I turn and drive, glancing in the rearview. Two of them have guns, but they don't fire or even aim at us. Either they know my vehicle is bulletproof, or they don't want to risk hurting one of us, most likely Ania.

"I told you they'd find me," Ania whispers. "They're not as weak and powerless as you seem to think or want to believe."

"We don't know anything yet," I reply sharply.

"Just let me go back. Let me go home."

"Is that what you want?" I growl, speeding through the forest toward the road. "To go with three men that you don't even know? Maybe they're old enemies. I've made plenty in my life."

"Oh, really? How?"

"Hurting bad people. Their friends sometimes don't like it."

I reach the road and continue driving, gripping the steering wheel hard.

"If it was your brothers," I growl, "why would they burn down the lodge?"

"Maybe the men they hired are idiots. Or maybe they wanted to send a message."

I grind my teeth. This was never supposed to get back to me. My head throbs, trying to bend this into a shape that makes sense.

"The only other person who knows about this lodge is Garry."

"Who's Garry?" she asks, her tone neutral and distant, making me wonder if she's biding her time for another escape attempt. This time, she might be more successful.

"A man who arranges things off the books. He's never let me down before."

Reaching into the glove box, I take out one of my burner phones, turn it on, and press the speed dial. Garry answers suspiciously quickly. "Hey, what's cooking?" he says, and that's when I know he's been had. That's been our code ever since we started. He's never once started a conversation like that, but I've always known that it meant he'd been compromised if he did.

"Am I still good to pick up those speakers?"

"Sure. Swing by anytime."

"See you soon."

Ending the call, I throw the cell phone out the window.

"They got to my fixer," I growl. "How the fuck would they even know to look for him?"

"Probably something computer-related, knowing Mikhail," Ania says, a note of pride in her voice. "Mila probably helped, too. They're a hacking super squad. That's terrible luck for you, huh?"

I glance at her. "You're loving this, then?"

"Maybe I just like saying I told you so."

I grind my teeth, a bad habit, but I can't stop thinking about how they would've done this. "Garry must've had a leak in his system, something identifying me. It's the only way. Dammit, but that's fine. I've got other spots, other places that Garry doesn't know about."

"What's the point of keeping me now, though? Mom—Molly—doesn't want me. So, who cares?"

I want to tell her I care. I want to tell her she's staying because I need her to. However, this is one of those times when staying silent is the best option, so that's what I do. She stares at me, then repeats the question, followed up with, "Well? You might as well drop me off at the next gas station and let me call them. There's nothing for me here."

I keep driving. Something strange is happening to me. There's a drumming in my chest, and panic is coursing through me. I shouldn't panic like this or let my mind run ahead. Suddenly, though, I can't imagine not being with Ania. What the fuck?

"That's not happening," I growl. "We're going someplace safe to work out what's going on."

"Where?"

"My father's penthouse. It's a fortress."

"Will M-Molly be there?"

I know why she hesitated. She was going to say, "Mom." She can't help herself. It's because she wants and deserves a mother, and part of the hope that died a few hours ago is still inside her.

"Probably, but it's a big place. You won't have to see her if you don't want to."

"Good. I don't."

Another pouty fold of her arms, lips pursed, like she's trying to convince herself she means what she just said. She seems so young as she stares at the road, so vulnerable, so inappropriate for me. Yet I want to keep her all the same, just for me.