I shook my head. “You’re still my shlyukha,” I muttered. “But now....” I ran my other hand over her cheek, pushing her hair back, and frowned. “You’re my golub, too.”
She frowned.
“My dove,” I told her. Then I shook my head. “Come on.”
She quickly slipped her other shoe on. “I don’t have to come. I mean...I understand, if it’s business.”
I felt myself soften again. She was trying to make it right, after asking me about Ralavich in my study. As if we were a real couple who’d had a fight. And she was right: she didn’t need to come with me, she shouldn’t come with me. But…. “No,” I said firmly. “You’re coming.”
She nodded, but cocked her head to one side. Why?
And suddenly it just burst out of me, before I could stop it. “Because I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”
We both stared at each other, me twice as shocked as her. Then I turned and marched towards the door. What’s going on? I’d allowed this relationship to happen because I knew I’d never feel anything for Christina, because she was as cold as I was. But now….
Now, she made me weak.
23
Hailey
LESS THAN TEN MINUTES later, we were in the back of the black Mercedes, speeding into the city. My body was still throbbing and shaky, my mind whirling.
He’d called me his dove. My chest went light, when I thought of that. I tried to crush it back down. This is Konstantin Gulyev. He doesn’t have a soft side.
We were driving in convoy, with a big black SUV full of guards in front of us and another behind. As we passed through neighborhoods Konstantin didn’t control, I saw criminals start to flee. A pimp suddenly darted into an alley, leaving the women he’d been talking to behind. A dealer turned and sprinted, dropping a packet of drugs behind him and not stopping to pick it up. They must think Konstantin was arriving to take over, but why were they so scared of him? Weren’t criminals all ultimately on the same side?
Then we reached one of the neighborhoods he did control. And instead of fear, I saw...relief. The people out at night here weren’t criminals, they were people out walking their dogs or on their way to and from bars. They nodded respectfully as we passed. A young couple were walking together and I saw the woman squeeze her partner’s hand as she saw us. It’s okay now. That seemed to be the mood. It’s okay, now. He’s here.
Half a block further on, the street had been closed off. Three separate buildings were ablaze and the fronts were so badly damaged, it took me a while to figure out that one of them used to be a restaurant, one a bar and one a nightclub.
We pulled up behind the fire department’s barricade and climbed out. A crowd of people had gathered to watch, but they parted immediately to let us pass. The fire department were doing their best but all three places were infernos, the heat so intense that I could feel it on my skin, even from all the way back here. The interiors looked to already be completely gutted. How could a fire take hold that fast? In three different buildings?
And then I saw the fury on Konstantin’s face and kicked myself for being so naive. These fires weren’t accidental.
A man raced up to Konstantin. His expensive suit was singed on the cuffs and his shirt was smudged with soot. “We got everyone out,” he said breathlessly. His accent was a thicker, heavier version of Konstantin’s. Then he started coughing and couldn’t stop.
“Injuries?” demanded Konstantin. I could see the emotions battling on his face. He wanted to wait for the poor guy to stop coughing, but he needed to know, now, because….
I looked around at the crowd, at the way they were looking at Konstantin. Because these were his people. They were in awe of him, respectful of him, but they weren’t living in fear of him. They lived under his protection.
“Three,” the guy managed at last. “The family who live above the restaurant.” He pointed to where white smoke was pouring out of a second story window. “It spread so fast... I got them out, but the man and woman have smoke inhalation. And one of the kids has burns on his arm.”
I saw Konstantin’s chest swell as he sucked in his breath. His huge shoulders drew back and he had to turn and stare at the fire for a moment just to control his rage. It was the angriest I’d ever seen him. He reached out and silently squeezed the guy’s shoulder: you did good. When he was finally able to speak, he started snapping out orders. “Take care of the family’s medical bills and move them to a hotel—the best. Make sure their insurance pays out for the fire and give them whatever extra they need to rebuild. Cover up any signs that it was arson. We don’t want the FBI sniffing around. And have some of your men patrol the neighborhood for the next few weeks. We can’t let this happen again.” He nodded towards Grigory. “Talk to Grigory here if you need more guns for your men, he can get you anything you need.”
The guy nodded and hurried off.
Konstantin turned to his guards, his voice low but vicious. “And bring me who did this!”
The guards scattered, with just four staying to protect us. Konstantin started to walk the crowd and, timidly, people began to approach him, shaking his hand, and telling him what had happened. Some, he gave money. Others just needed reassurance.
I trailed after him, stunned. This wasn’t the Konstantin I’d imagined. In the year I’d watched him, I’d focused on his meetings with politicians and other criminals, and he was ruthless with them. But when it came to civilians…. I took another look at the streets around us. This neighborhood was safe. There were no dealers or pimps here. Now I understood why street criminals were scared of him. He cleared them out, in the neighborhoods he took over.
Konstantin was terrifyingly powerful, but he ruled as a benevolent king. He was liked.
The fire started to spread and the fire department wanted to move their barricade back. The guards helped them clear the crowd and then we left, leaving a handful of guards searching for the arsonist.
As the Mercedes pulled away, Konstantin sat slumped in the back seat, rubbing his stubbled jaw. He was furious...and the person he seemed angriest at was himself. He glanced at me and saw I was watching him. “It’s not right,” he muttered at last. “A child getting hurt.”
I knew I shouldn’t say anything. Christina would be nothing but loyal. But I needed to understand. “If there’s a war between you and the other bosses, more civilians will get hurt. More children.”
He scowled and shook his head. “War is inevitable.”
I blinked at him. “Only if you keep expanding. Can’t you just...stop?”
He turned and stared at me. And those gray eyes gave me my answer, one that made my heart sink. He’d never stop. He couldn’t stop. And that meant Carrie was right: we had to stop him.
And yet...when he turned and looked through the rear window at the orange glow behind us...he looked like the loneliest man alive. As if he really didn’t want a war, didn’t want innocent blood spilled...and yet he had no choice.
Without thinking, I reached out and took his hand.
He looked at me again, this time in shock, then stared down at our joined hands. Christina never did that, I realized. I remembered looking at the photo of the two of them, about to board his private jet. That was what had been wrong with it: they hadn’t been holding hands. I’d never seen them hold hands. It was true: they really weren’t in love.
Konstantin kept staring at our hands and I thought he was going to pull away, or tell me off. But after a few seconds, I felt his hand slowly start to curl around mine, enveloping it in warmth.
I gave his hand a tiny, tentative squeeze.
He looked at me and there was confusion in his eyes. Not what are you doing? This was helpless confusion: what’s happening?
And then he slowly squeezed back.
We sat like that in silence for nearly an hour as the convoy circled the neighborhood. And then a phone call came in and the driver turned to Konstantin. “They’ve found the guy who set the fires,” he said.
&nbs
p; Konstantin’s grip tightened. “Take me to him.”
24
Hailey
WE CLIMBED OUT of the car and I wrapped my arms around me against the sudden chill. A fierce wind was blowing down the street, scattering trash like leaves. When I looked up, I saw we were at the foot of an enormous skyscraper but...there was something wrong with it. The thing was so black, it just seemed to soak up light. And its sides seemed to be moving.
I squinted and, as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I drew in my breath. The skyscraper was still being built. There was no glass in the windows, that’s why it didn’t reflect. And lots of the floors didn’t have walls, yet, just sheets of plastic, flapping in the wind. We’re going in there?
There was an elevator for the construction workers, but it was just a yellow-painted cage, completely open above waist height. Konstantin and I climbed in and I gulped as the ground dropped away. I don’t like heights. I’m okay when I’m looking through my camera because I feel like I’m down on the ground with my target, but I don’t like being reminded that I’m up high...and with the wind tugging at my clothes and the way the cage swayed and creaked, it was impossible to forget. When we passed the tenth floor, I couldn’t look anymore. I closed my eyes and clung onto the handrail and prayed for it to be over.
But we kept climbing, higher and higher. The wind grew steadily worse and soon I was hugging myself to keep warm: it was October and I’d run out of the mansion in my thin sweater and skirt.
After what felt like forever, we stopped. I opened my eyes….
We were on the roof. And from how small the lights below us looked, we must have been at least thirty stories up. The roof was huge but we were in one corner of it so the edges were far too close for comfort. And the parapet hadn’t been built yet: there was nothing to stop you falling off.
We started to move and, before I knew what I was doing, I pressed close to Konstantin, my arm hooking around his and our bodies pushed together from shoulder to hip. That made me feel better. We took several steps before I caught myself. This was Konstantin. How could a man like that make me feel safe?
But he did.
In the center of the roof, the rest of the guards waited, holding a struggling man in place. He had long, greasy black hair and his stained t-shirt was stretched over his gut. But he looked strong, too: his biceps were huge and it was taking three of the guards to hold him still. There was something unsettling about the way he stared at us, a kind of arrogance. He’s not afraid. I’d never seen anyone not be scared of Konstantin.
The guy spoke up as we approached. His Russian accent was heavy and rough, the syllables like splintering slabs of lead. “This is why you bring me here?” He nodded at the guards. “So you can watch your trained dogs beat me?”
I looked around and realized why we’d come here. We were the tallest structure for miles: no one could see us, up on the roof. I was guessing Konstantin owned the building, so no need to worry about security cameras, either.
Whatever happened here, the authorities would never know.
“My guards won’t be needed,” said Konstantin, his voice dangerously quiet, and he started across the roof towards the men. As soon as he was gone, my vertigo came back. The wind was getting worse: I swore the whole building was swaying slightly, each time a gust hit. I backed up against the elevator and grabbed hold of it, trying not to look at the tiny lights far below.
Konstantin slipped off his suit jacket as he walked and tossed it to one of his men. He unfastened his tie, then took off his shirt.
It was the first time I’d seen him topless and he was breathtaking, his back a wide vee of hard, tan muscle, his shoulders hulking and powerful, as if they could bear the weight of the world.
Near his collarbone, two ten-pointed star tattoos marked him as a leader. Then came those huge, hard pecs. If I’d put both my hands on just one of them, fingers spread as wide as they could go, I still wouldn’t have been able to cover it all. He narrowed down to a tight core, the ridges of his abs bisected by a deep line, and then the diagonal slash of his adonis belt, disappearing down into his pants. He was ripped, but it wasn’t the jacked up, veiny look of bodybuilders. It was a hardened look that made me think of a soldier. He’d got this way by fighting, by building his empire one battle at a time.
“Let him go,” Konstantin told the guards.
Oh God, he’s going to deal with this guy himself?! Konstantin was strong, but the other guy looked mean as hell. There was real muscle under the fat and both of his hands were covered in big, ugly-looking rings. I imagined those fists slamming into Konstantin and—
I was worried about him. This man I’d come to betray, the one who’d kill me if he found out who I really was... I didn’t want to see him get hurt.
The guards released the man and he charged at Konstantin, lowering his head at the last minute. They slammed together and I drew in a panicked breath as Konstantin slid backward. What if he goes off the edge?!
But Konstantin regained his footing and the fight began. I winced as the other guy started throwing punches at Konstantin’s face and ribs...and Konstantin just took it. He stood his ground, barely moving, and when a punch snapped his head to the side, he turned it back for more. Why isn’t he hitting back? He’s going to get killed! I wanted to look away, but I forced myself to watch.
And then I saw what was happening.
Konstantin’s teeth were gritted and he was panting in pain, but with each punch he absorbed, his face set a little more, becoming a mask of fury. He’s punishing himself, I realized. He thinks he deserves this, because those people got hurt. That’s why he was fighting the man himself instead of letting one of his men do it. This was his responsibility.
And when his rage had built to a peak, he exploded. His first punch sent the guy staggering back across the roof. His second knocked him almost off his feet. Then Konstantin grabbed him by the throat and, despite his size, hefted him into the air. “Who do you work for?” he bellowed.
The guy spat out a tooth. “I answer to Dmitri Ralavich,” he said with pride.
I caught my breath. Then my stomach lurched as the whole roof shifted under my feet. It wasn’t my imagination: the building was swaying in the wind.
Konstantin scowled. “You’re lying. Ralavich is in St. Petersburg.”
“Ralavich is here in New York, with a hundred men like me.” The arsonist lifted his chin. “We’re going to take this city from you.”
I listened, stunned. No one was looking at me, so I risked whispering to Calahan. “Are you getting this?”
Calahan answered immediately. “I’m getting it.” He sounded as worried as me. Konstantin was the most notorious crime boss, but Ralavich was pure, undiluted evil.
“Ralavich will never take over here,” Konstantin snarled.
But Ralavich’s guy wouldn’t back down, even though Konstantin had him by the throat. He was nothing like one of Konstantin’s men, with their calm order and military discipline. He reminded me more of the dealer who’d killed Rufus, just a street thug but with an ego swollen with power. “The people you protect will be ours,” he said. “The women will be our whores and the men our slaves and the ones who won’t obey will burn in their beds. And you and your family will be forgotten.”
For a second, Konstantin’s eyes went colder than I’d ever seen them. A merciless cold, a cold without hope. There was so much pain there, so much loss, it made my chest ache. This was the root of all the cold I’d seen in him, I was sure of it. This was what those brief glimpses of warmth were fighting against.
Then he roared in fury and strode towards the corner of the roof, the guy still dangling from his fist. “Oh Jesus, he’s going to kill him,” I whispered.
“Don’t interfere!” said Calahan quickly. “Remember, you’re Christina!”
I knew he was right. Christina wouldn’t care if Konstantin killed the guy. And I knew that Konstantin must have killed before: he couldn’t have gotten this far without taking a li
fe. But I couldn’t just stand by and watch him kill someone. Not even when it was an arsonist who’d nearly killed a whole family. “Stop!” I yelled. But the wind had risen to a howl and it snatched my voice away.
“Hailey, don’t!” warned Calahan.
I had to get closer and that meant…. I gulped and started running towards Konstantin. He was on my side of the building, but at the opposite end, so my path took me right along the edge of the roof. I was terrifyingly close to that sickening black drop and the wind was coming in fierce, unpredictable gusts, ready to send me over. “Stop!” I yelled again. This time, some of the guards heard and looked around in amazement. But Konstantin didn’t react.
I was halfway along the roof when the gust of wind hit me. I went staggering sideways, awkward and unstable in my heels, and came to a skittering stop—
I looked down. My feet were six inches from the edge of the roof.
Two of the guards were running towards me but I ignored them, took a deep breath, and ran on. Konstantin was dangling the arsonist over the edge, now, his feet kicking in the air. All he had to do was open his hand.
I stopped just a few feet from Konstantin, which was as close to the corner of the roof as I dared get. The drop filled my whole vision and I went woozy with fear, rocking on my heels, my stomach trying to climb into my mouth. If the wind blew me now, there was nothing I could do except scream all the way to the bottom. “Stop!” I yelled over the wind.
This time, Konstantin must have heard me. But he still didn’t react. His eyes were wild and he was breathing in huge, rasping pants.
So I did the only thing I could think of: I lunged forward, my toes right on the edge, and grabbed hold of his outstretched arm.
25
Konstantin
The Double Page 10
