Katya emerged from the bedroom in a pair of jeans, a fitted sweater, and shearling boots. How the woman had managed to bring clothes that fit his ghost was one of the mysteries of the universe.
No. Not his ghost anymore. She was a woman. She belonged to herself alone. She had to follow her conscience, and he had to follow his.
He’d known this time would come, that he would have to say good-bye to her. But he’d honestly never thought it would mean watching her walk away in a very flattering pair of jeans.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he said dumbly.
“I’d like to see Dariya sometime soon, if it’s okay.”
“Of course.” Now she really could help him lure his niece out of hiding, a frighteningly appealing idea. “You could come with us to meet Femme Fatale.”
Her eyes brightened and then faded just as fast. “Maybe we should do something else, just me and Dariya.”
“Right. Good idea.” No need to drag out the pain of this separation.
“Take care of yourself,” she said, extending her hand. A ridiculous gesture, after all the ways they’d touched each other.
He forced himself to meet her eye and then took her hand and dragged her into a hug, mostly because he knew the others were all staring at him as if the pain of letting her go was printed on him like a front-page headline and they could read the whole story if they looked closely enough.
He kissed the top of her head and stepped back.
Sure, it hurt. But he would get over it. Those minutes of fear, when he’d thought Lisko was coming after Dariya and Katya, had been the worst of his life—far more painful than this entirely expected loss.
He couldn’t work the culture desk forever. He sure as hell couldn’t work for Lisko. And he absolutely refused to put his niece in danger.
After a long, awkward stretch of seconds, Lisko took a step toward the door. “All right then.”
Nik tried to hand the man the folder.
“Keep it. Sleep on it.”
“I don’t need…” His breath hitched in his lungs at the sight of Katya’s gorgeous ass in those tight pants, walking away from him. Before he could draw enough breath to finish his sentence, they were all gone.
The coffee pot chimed. Fuck that. Caffeine would only sharpen all these shitty feelings, and he wanted them as dull as possible.
With Dariya at her friend’s place, Nik needed a drink. He hadn’t been to a bar since Sofiya died. The thought of the friendly but anonymous welcome he would receive at the place across from the paper comforted him. He changed out of his work clothes in favor of jeans and then headed for the metro. Outside, it was a glorious spring day. Trees were blooming, and the sun was annoyingly cheerfully bright.
When the train emerged from the tunnel, his phone buzzed. His heart leaped, an inexplicable desire for Katya to phone. But why would she? He’d sent her away.
Leonid’s name flashed on the screen. He’d probably seen the news about the Lisko case. At least that was something to celebrate. Dariya would have enough money to do whatever she wanted. Nik ignored the call.
The darkened bar provided blessed relief from all the sunlight outside.
“Hiya, Nik. What’ll it be?”
“Vodka. I’m celebrating.”
The guy blinked, as if Nik needed confirmation that he looked grim. “Sure thing.” Seconds later, the bartender poured the clear liquid from a frosty bottle.
Nik swallowed it, savoring the cold burn for as long as it lasted. “Keep ’em coming.”
“You’re the boss.”
Normally, Nik would have made chit-chat or caught up on the headlines on his phone. Today, he stared blankly at the bottles lit up on the back of the bar, not even seeing the names on their labels.
The image of Katya’s expression when she realized he wasn’t going to ask her to stay would not be erased. Recalling it hurt, like that razor slicing into his veins for her. But it was skin deep, superficial. Nothing like the crushing, gut-wrenching ache that would kill him slowly if anything ever happened to her because of his work. He forced himself to imagine her lying lifeless on the floor like Tiger the fish.
Batman did not keep pets or live-in girlfriends.
The bartender had left the vodka right in front of Nik, probably as a visual reminder of how much he’d consumed. Only half a bottle gone, and he’d been here for hours already. What time was it, anyway?
He pulled out his phone. There was a message from Dariya. The letters only swam a little. He squinted at the screen, moving it closer to and then farther from his face. Nothing made the words sharper, but finally, he made them out.
“OMG. She’s Katya Dvoynev? Why didn’t you tell me?”
How would his niece have figured that out?
Chert. He had a sneaking suspicion.
He opened up the Internet browser on his phone and went to the news headlines. Sure enough, there she was, caught on camera with a disgustingly photogenic Yuchenko. “Missing daughter of Mikaiel and Svetlana Dvoynev comes out of hiding.” The story explained she’d been aided by the detective, who’d also arrested her kidnappers months ago. The reporter had gotten a statement from her parents, who reported feeling overjoyed and anxiously awaiting a reunion, while Katya volunteered a list of plans that did not include seeing them.
Nik chuckled, trusting that Katya’s inner mara would never let her return to her parents’ home.
Another thing worth celebrating. He peeled his gaze off her shy, heartbreaking smile to find the bartender, and pointed at the glass.
The guy held his phone to his ear, looking right at Nik. He held up a finger, asking for a moment of patience. The hair on Nik’s nape stood up. Was this guy calling somebody, ratting out his location?
He shrugged off the feeling. Of course not. He worked at the culture desk, and Lisko was wooing him, not hunting him now. Nobody gave a damn where Nik was.
That’s why, when the front door cracked open and a wedge of that blisteringly bright, chipper sunlight stole in, Nik just hunched over his drink.
“There you are, my friend,” Leonid boomed, delivering sobering slaps to Nik’s back. “You’re not taking my calls.”
“Needed a day off,” Nik mumbled. He probably would have slurred, had there been any sibilant sounds in the phrase. Good, he was finally starting to get as drunk as he’d hoped. Problem was, his face felt numb, and his teeth might have gone and fallen out, but the sharp sting of Katya’s absence hadn’t dulled a bit. “What are you doing here?”
“I got a very strange call from Dmitri Lisko, of all people, telling me he offered you a job.”
“Yesh.” Ah, good. There was the slur he’d been waiting for. He was making excellent progress. “I’ll never work for him.”
“I assumed as much. Too bad, though. What a way to put your ideals into action. All your research and investigative skills, and a giant bankroll to help right wrongs.”
“Money doesn’t right wrongsh.”
“No?” Leonid raised one furry, gray eyebrow. “But if it’s so often used to corrupt the law, surely it can be used to good ends as well.”
Nik grunted and pointed at his glass.
Leonid covered it with his hand. “Two coffees, please.”
“Lisko also said something about you being involved with that Dvoynev girl who’s in the news today. Pretty little thing.”
And there it was again, the flaying pain of her absence, not even a little anesthetized by three-quarters of a bottle of vodka.
“Yeah.” He stared at the blurry bottles behind the bar.
“You know. If you wanted to work for Lisko, just for a little while, you could come back to the paper later. I will always find a job for you. Hell, I’d hoped that one day you would take mine. And I would welcome opinion pieces from you anytime. You could speak your mind without fear anyone would try to silence you, or Dariya, or Katya Dvoynev.”
Nik swiveled his head to look at his boss.
Fortunately, the man had oversized features, easy to make out even in a drunken haze. “You think I should do it?”
“Only you know what you should do. I suspect that knowledge is what you’re hiding from in here.”
“What if something happensh to her? What if she gets shick like Sofiya?”
“Oh, I see. You’re not so much hiding as taking the preemptive suffering route. Lose her now instead of later.”
Nik nodded, relieved. Leonid understood perfectly well. Surely that meant it was a sound strategy.
The editor and chief lifted the bottle of vodka. “I wonder how many of these it will take?”
Nik closed his eyes and put his forehead on the bar, the answer all too clear. There wasn’t enough vodka in the whole world.
He loved her, and the pain would only go away with her at his side.
The smell of coffee roused him.
God, he was a fool. He’d wanted so much to show her how lovable she was, and then he’d gone and let her go. There was really only one way to make it right. But first, he had to sober up.
The next morning, Nik played tug of war with Dariya over the coffee pot and its last remaining inch and a half of life-giving brew.
She scrutinized his face with eerie keenness and then shoved the carafe at him. “Fine, you take it. You look like you need it way more.”
He’d stopped drinking earlier enough the previous day to only have a slight headache. Dariya had come home shortly after he’d stumbled in, via a taxi with Nadya and her mom as escort. She’d required a tranquilizer for the return journey, but only one after he’d told her about Lisko Enterprises accepting culpability in the class-action suit.
They’d spent the evening together, searching through Sofiya’s things for the object Nik desperately hoped to find. Strangely, Dariya seemed to struggle more with locating her mother’s things, since Katya had imposed organization on the chaos that had been his niece’s room. The hunt had taken them all evening, but they’d reminisced about his sister the whole time, pausing only to eat leftover soup from the meal Katya had prepared.
Every time their work or conversation had paused, he’d expected to second-guess himself in the silence, had waited for his rigid mental habits of bachelordom to reassert themselves. Instead, he’d grown more and more certain with every breath, each one somewhat strained by the way missing her tightened his ribs.
Finally, they’d found Sofiya’s small cedar chest, and minutes later, in their respective beds, they’d both fallen exhaustedly into bed.
As he topped off his coffee in the kitchen, Dariya kept up her wise-beyond-her-years stare.
Nik’s armpits began to prickle—nerves, but still no doubts.
“So you’re going to the dirty-not-dirty cop’s apartment now?” She sipped her coffee.
“Soon.” Nik’s steaming cup was still too hot to drink, so he blew across the surface as an excuse to regulate his rapid breathing. “I’m waiting for a delivery.”
The buzzer from the apartment building door sounded, and he jumped, sloshing scalding coffee onto his fingers. “Chert.”
He made his way to the intercom and spoke into the microphone. “Yeah?”
“Delivery for Zurkov.”
“Come on up.” He pressed the unlock button.
Dariya came to stand by him at the door. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a folded up sheet of printer paper. “I found something for you. This one is fifty years old this month.”
Nik opened it up and discovered a single pane from a comic book, Lois Lane, with a sweep of auburn curls, pointing at Clark Kent. He scanned the English words, simple enough for him to grasp immediately. Grinning, he glanced up. “How do you find these things?”
“It’s a gift.” She pointed her thumb to her chest.
“Well, thanks.”
Knuckles pounded on the door, and Nik opened it to find an enormous flower arrangement so big he couldn’t see the deliveryman. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe he should have gone with a smaller arrangement, since he would have to carry it across town to Yuchenko’s apartment. But when he’d browsed the online florist, those puny things had seemed like such poor apologies for his stupidity, for his failure to accept the ways she’d changed him quickly enough to catch her, to keep her.
He could only hope it wasn’t too late.
“Thanks.” He accepted the arrangement and slipped a tip into the man’s hand when it was free of the vase.
“Sure thing.” The deliveryman gave a little wave.
Nik began to close the door when a sweetly familiar voice sounded. “Where are you going with those?”
Chapter 28
Katya hadn’t had a clue who’d ordered the flowers when she’d followed the deliveryman inside, but to her pleasant surprise, she’d trailed it all the way to her old apartment. There, in the hallway, she tried for a casual lean against the wall as he knocked on the door. The enormous bouquet was an assortment of hydrangeas in ivory, lavender, and blue.
As soon as Nikolai hefted the thing into his arms, and the deliveryman plodded down the hall, she realized the flowers kind of matched her hair. Sweet.
“Where are you going with those?”
Nikolai stared at her and gulped down a swallow that made his Adam’s apple jump.
Hmm. Not exactly the warm reception she’d hoped for. But having a mara as a part of her psyche had proven pretty awesome, like she’d taken a courage pill that would never wear off.
So she repeated her question.
“To find you.” His eyes softened at the corners, flattening their downward slant with an almost smile that made her heartbeat lurch. “I thought you were at Yuchenko’s place.”
“I was.”
“I saw your parents held a press conference.”
“Assholes. I’ve been refusing to take their calls.”
A glint of pride sparkled in his eyes. “Good.”
Dariya peeked around the door. “You’re here!” She plucked a piece of folded paper from under her uncle’s arm and handed it over.
From the colors bleeding onto the back of the page, Katya could guess it was one of her comic book printouts.
“This is how it’s supposed to go,” the girl said.
Katya accepted the paper and sought out the open edge with her thumbs to unfold it.
“Wait!” Nikolai said. “Dariya…” He raised his brows more sternly than Katya had ever seen. “Some privacy, please.”
“Fine.” She shrugged. “I’ll go out.”
“Out?” Katya asked.
“Well, just to the roof, but better than my room, right?” Dariya winked as she slid past her uncle.
“Here.” Nikolai handed over the arrangement, all cool pastel mounds of flowers.
Katya accepted it and immediately floundered under its weight. “Thanks. It’s beautiful, and it weighs a ton.”
“Oh, right.” He took it back. “Will you come inside?”
“I was hoping you’d ask.”
“I wasn’t expecting you.” He set the arrangement on a shelf and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking almost shy.
“No? I’m surprised you’re even capable of forming an expectation after how you spent yesterday.” Dmitri had kept some of his security guys on Nikolai all day, most of which he’d reportedly spent in a bar near the newspaper. And apparently, when he’d left, he could barely stand upright.
He chuckled uncertainly and raked a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. I quit early enough to recover.”
“Did it work—the vodka?”
“Not a damn bit.” His mouth flattened into a grave line, and his eyes took on their sad downward tilt. “I missed you more with every shot.”
“Oh.” Her throat grew tight.
“Did Lisko tell you I took the job?”
“He called as soon as he got off the phone with you. I’m so glad. I think it’s perfect for you and Dariya.”
; “Yeah, well, we’ll see.” He shoved his hands into his pockets one more time and drew out something—a white envelope. “I have something for you.”
“Besides the flowers?”
“Yes.”
She accepted the envelope and her hands trembled. “You were going to carry those on the metro all the way to Yuchenko’s.”
A flicker of a grin passed over his lips. “When I saw how big the arrangement was, I contemplated a taxi, but then you were here.”
She flipped the envelope around over and over. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
She did, sliding out the paper inside to find a letter.
“Dearest Katya,”
She sniffed, tears forming instantly. It was the same way Fedir had addressed his note to her.
“You’re reading this because I’m a fool. I’ve spent the last ten years of my life fearful of meeting a woman who would tangle me up or make me loyal to anything but the truth. Forgive me for being such a coward yesterday when I should have caught you up in my arms and sworn never to let you go. That in itself was a betrayal of the truth.
Like your Fedir, from the moment I saw you, everything changed. I wanted you with me, and I wanted you to know how deserving of love you are. Only it took me too long and most of a bottle of vodka to realize how much you’ve changed me.
If you refuse me, I will understand. Yesterday, I proved a coward and not a hero. But every drop of blood and moment in your arms was worth it. I’m not sure I’m that man Fedir told you to fall in love with—the one who really deserves you—but if you accept me, I will spend the rest of my life trying, and as he instructed, be sure to give you everything you want.”
Her heart pounded as if the mara were tap dancing on it. “Accept what?”
“I believe this is when Dariya would like you to read the paper she printed out.”
Katya unfolded the sheet. She’d crumpled it in nervous hands that had turned it damp. The picture had indeed been excerpted from a comic book—a single rectangular cell depicting Superman in his Clark Kent guise, with his Nikolai-esque eyeglasses on. In the topmost speech bubble, he assured Lois she didn’t need to answer him right away. But the woman boldly pressed her fingers to his mouth and insisted. “Shhh, Clark. I’ve already decided… Yes. I want to share my life with you.”
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