“I’m sure she did.” I lift my gun. “But I never will.”
The gunshot sounds like cannon fire in the silence of the room. Calogero’s head snaps back. He falls onto the bed, his eyes wide and glassy, while a swell of crimson surges from the hole in the middle of his brow.
Chicago
One hour before the scheduled flight departure
I park my car in front of Uncle Sergei’s freshly painted two-story house and exit. I wasted three hours hiding in my room while I waited for Dad to finally get bogged down in his office, giving me a chance to sneak out of the house unnoticed. If I want to catch Rafael’s plane—and I do—I can’t spare more than ten minutes on this visit.
Roaring barks explode on the right as two enormous black dogs round the corner and run toward me. I take a deep breath and brace myself for the impact. A second later, I’m assaulted by paws and warm wet tongues.
“Jesus. I forgot how big you guys are,” I groan. “Uncle Sergei! I need help here.”
“Well, well, well. Isn’t that my favorite troublemaking little cousin?” a male voice says from the porch.
I look up and find Sasha, Uncle Sergei’s son, leaning on the doorframe. He’s dressed only in gray sweatpants, his partially inked bare chest in full view.
“I’m a year older than you, you schmuck!” I laugh as I try to keep the dogs from turning me over. “Help, please?”
“Bambi! Flora!” he yells. “Down. Now!”
The dogs immediately retreat and plant their butts on the ground, their eyes fixed on Sasha.
“You need to forbid Uncle Sergei from naming your dogs.” I laugh and run up the steps and into his arms. “I’ve missed your ugly mug.”
“We missed you, too. Come on in. We’ve got some leftovers. Mom made her famous chicken and Mexican rice. Besides, if you stay out here, I’ll need to get my shotgun to ward off the horde of salivating men that will soon start to gather.”
I smile. I’m wearing some of Yulia’s pretty clothes that she let me borrow, not my usual baggy jeans and shapeless shirts. Can’t wait to see the look on Rafael’s face when he sees me descending the stairs off the plane. He’ll be surprised. I haven’t told him that I’m coming back.
“I can’t stay,” I say. “I thought you moved out.”
“I did. But you know how my mother gets jumpy every time Dad goes out into the field. So I came over to keep her company.”
“And get free food?”
“Yeah, that, too.” He winks. “Dad is coming back sometime tomorrow. You can drop by then.”
“I’m . . . actually leaving right away. I’m on my way to the airport.” I throw a look at my watch. “I have less than an hour or the plane will depart without me.”
“Leaving? But you just got back. Where are you going now?”
“Sicily.” I can’t suppress my grin.
“Oh. What a coincidence. Dad’s there now.”
I stop in my tracks. “Uncle Sergei’s in Sicily?”
“Yeah. Roman needed him to off some asshole over there. He took off yesterday.”
My legs nearly fold under me. Panic grips me and horror washes over me from head to toe. I can practically feel the tight squeeze of fate’s hand around my neck. Squeezing. Squeezing. I can’t breathe.
“Vasya? You okay?”
I spin around and run out of the house, straight to my car. Ignoring Sasha’s calls after me, I grab my phone while starting the engine and dial Rafael’s number. It rings. And rings. I try twice more, but he doesn’t answer.
“Shit!” I merge onto the road leading to the highway that will eventually take me to the private airfield and keep calling Rafael. No answer.
I call Dad’s number next. The call goes directly to voicemail.
“Oh God,” I choke out, then redial. Voicemail again.
My eyes dart between my phone and the road in front of me. I can’t get on that plane unless I manage to contact Rafael and warn him. Or make my dad call off Uncle Sergei. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I turn the steering wheel sharply to the left, making a U-turn, and floor the gas pedal, heading toward home instead of the waiting airplane.
Minutes pass. Five. Ten. Half an hour. I keep dialing, switching between Rafael’s and Dad’s numbers. No answer. Voicemail. No answer. Voicemail. I pull up the contacts list and scroll, searching for Guido’s, but I can’t find it!
“Fuck!” I scream and restart my search from the top of the list. When I finally find his name, I hit dial and turn on the speakerphone.
Please. Please pick up!
“Vasilisa?”
“My father sent a hitman after Rafael!” I cry. “You need to warn him!”
Silence. A second feels like a lifetime. “Who did he send?”
“My uncle. Sergei Belov.”
