Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Is that Eva?”
I hear a voice in the background, higher and not as gravelly as my father’s. Noises at the other end of the line, an exchange of words, and then, “Eva?”
“Marco.”
I press my fist against my mouth to stem the tears. If anyone is going to hear the upset in my voice, it’s my bright, funny, sensitive brother, the oldest of my younger siblings. I switch the phone to speaker, hoping it will distort the emotion.
“Eva? Are you okay? Papa said you called him and said you’re doing this secret government job. Is that true?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, tears leaking from my eyes at the lie and the truth behind it. “Yeah. I’m so good at what I do, they came to get me personally.”
Marco laughs. “Do you know when you’re coming home? I’m doing my best to help out, but I have midterms coming up, and there’s this professor who’s really giving me a hard time—”
My brother doesn’t want to finish, doesn’t want to bother me when I clearly have something I need to do.
“Hey, I’m earning money for us, right? That takes time,” I say, trying to soothe him, more lies tumbling from my mouth.
“Eva?” It’s my father’s voice again. “Tell them you’re needed at home. Marco needs his time to study. Jordan is asking for money again, and I need you to find him. He’s off somewhere and hasn’t been home in days. And Katie needs you to take her to school, she doesn’t want her Papa to embarrass her.”
More like she wants someone far gentler to help her off to school, to help her with her homework. Dad tends to get frustrated when someone doesn’t understand a concept he thinks should be simple to grasp.
“Tell them you need to come home, Evushka. Your siblings need you.”
So do you. More than anyone else, I tell him silently, knowing he’ll never admit it, how much he’s come to rely on me. How little he’s recovered from losing my mother.
“Papa, I can’t come home. I’m doing important work.” The lie leaves my lips on a breath I force through my throat and my tears, knowing I will probably never make it home. “Just… just tell them to call me, okay? I’ll see what I can do to help from here. That’s all I can do right now.”
It’s more than I should promise, but what else can I do? I might never see them again. At least this way I get to hear their voices. The realization forces fresh tears from my eyes to track down my cheeks, and I know I will lose it if I stay on any longer.
“I have to go. I’ll call tomorrow and see what you need, okay?”
“See that you do.” It’s my father’s parting command.
“Good night, Eva.” Marco sounds sad, a counterpoint to my father. “Thanks for calling. We miss you.”
“I miss you, too. Good night.”
I end the call before the sobs erupt, and I cover my face with my hand, trying to stem the flood.
A sound interrupts my misery. I jerk my head up as Evgeny walks into the room, and I hastily wipe at the tears with my hand. He crosses the kitchen without a word and picks up his book, which I hadn’t noticed he’d forgotten.
Then he retraces his steps, and I almost sigh with relief. Instead of leaving, he looks back at me. The emotion in his eyes is unreadable, the green almost preternatural in the shadows. Shivers run under my skin, following his gaze as it traces me, and I can’t look away.
Then he’s gone, and I’m alone again.
9
EVGENY
Thoughts of Eva won’t leave me alone, and they’re driving me out of my mind.
I can’t get the image out of my head. Her at the kitchen island, hunched over her phone, clutching it in both hands, tears tracking down her cheeks. I can still hear her voice, choked with emotion, as she talked to her family.
I don’t care what Vasya says. I still don’t entirely believe Eva isn’t part of some plot against me. Especially after Tsepov came to the restaurant, a known Kucherov territory. Especially after that parting shot of Tsepov’s.
I would watch your back because you never know who’s coming for it.
I should be working out what the bastard meant by that warning, deciding whether there’s any truth to it or if Tsepov is only trying to rattle me. He might be trying to throw me off balance, to get in my head and make me slip. The guy is oily and desperate enough to try anything to get one over on me.
I should be figuring out whether Eva is part of that plan, digging deep to find any hint of a connection with the Sokolinaya Bratva. I gave her the phone to call her family, hoping she would let something slip or call a contact.