It’s not the word itself.
It’s him.
What grates on my nerves is how he looks at me when he says it and the endearing manner he uses. It shouldn’t sound anything close to endearing. So it feels like a joke to me.
I’m not sure if he’s going to like any of my questions, but I’m asking them anyway. His answer to the first will set the tone for the rest.
“What are you?” I say, keeping my voice under control.
The corner of his mouth curls into a sexy smile.
“A man.” The charm in his smile echoes in his voice and captivates me as he looks me up and down.
“I can see that. You know that’s not what I meant.” Be firm, be strong. That is my mantra when dealing with power-hungry men like him who try to control others. “You said you belong to a group; I’m guessing some kind of mafia. What’s screwing with my analysis is the M.I.T. sweatshirt. Unless it’s not yours.”
“It is mine.”
“So, what are you?” I ask again.
“By day, I’m Eric Markov, owner and C.E.O. of Markov Tech. I design software and weapons for national security.” He pauses for a moment, and he must notice I’m impressed because I am. I didn’t expect him to own a company like that. He’s not finished yet, though. There’s more to him, and the tattoos tell all.
“There has to be more.”
“There is. I’m in the Bratva,” he declares, and the chill already in my spine turns to icicles. I’ve come across men from the Russian Mafia before and knew to stay the fuck away. “I’m the Obshchak in my Brotherhood.”
That’s still part of the leadership.
“Oh,” I breathe. This time, I know I’m showing my caution.
“Does that scare you, Babydoll?” He gives me a wolfish grin.
“No,” I lie, and when that grin turns into a mocking smirk, I know he knows I’m lying.
At least now I know what he is. It doesn’t help much, though.
“Did the information I gave you help?” I ask.
“It did.”
That’s good. “Will you be able to find them?”
“I’m trying. Leave that worry to me.”
That means he won’t tell me anything.
“What will happen when this is all over? You will let me go, won’t you?” That’s the biggest thing I need to clarify—an end date—a time for this to be over.
“Yes.”
The tension in my body eases a little. All I can wish for now is for this to be over quickly. That’s how I have to look at this and what I need to keep at the forefront of my mind.
If he gets to them, it kills several birds with one stone. It gets some justice for my sister’s death and gives me a chance to live without running and looking over my shoulder again.
That’s freedom. True freedom. All that will be missing from my life is my sister. I fight back the tears that are never far away. The same way she’s always in my
mind.
He told me about the recording of Scarlett’s death. If he has a copy, I want to see it. It will hurt to watch, but if Dad watched it, I need to watch it too.