I’d managed to clean my face up a little. But my dress was still soaking wet, my hair was a tangled mess and my face was almost as white as the snow outside. I saw the doormen hesitate as I walked up the steps to the restaurant.
“I’m with Luka Malakov,” I told them. One of them doubtfully showed me in. I’d told the cab driver to leave me there—however this worked out, it was going to be dangerous and he’d done enough for me.
Luka and Vasiliy were at the same table I’d sat at with Luka—his usual table, I guessed, although something looked different. There was food already on the table and wine, too. The tables around theirs had fallen into a sort of awed hush as people realized who they were sitting close to.
Yuri was standing just a few feet behind them, keeping watch. He spotted me first and said something in Luka’s ear.
Luka had been looking down at his food. Now his head snapped up and he looked right at me. My breath caught in my throat. Even with everything that had gone wrong between us, my heart gave the same lurch and then mad rush that it always did when I saw him. But God, the ice in his eyes, the raw, hot anger that shot across the space between us—it tore me apart.
I put my hand up in front of me. “I’m sorry—”
Luka stood, pushing his chair back so hard it clattered to the floor. He half-turned, reached his hand under Yuri’s jacket and returned holding a gun. A gun he pointed straight at me.
People around me started screaming. For all they knew who Luka was, for all they’d heard about the Brotherhood and their crimes, they didn’t expect to actually see things happening right in front of them. No one would be crazy enough to shoot someone in a crowded restaurant.
But if there was one person powerful enough to do it and get away with it, it was Luka.
“I’m not here to argue with you,” I managed to say. “You need my help.”
“I don’t need you at all.” His accent and anger combined to twist the words. It was almost a snarl.
“Listen to me! My old boss was working with Ralavich. He’s going to have both of you killed.”
“He can try,” said Vasiliy quietly. “You should go, Arianna. I’m running thin on reasons not to kill you myself.”
“Please! You don’t know him!” I stared at Luka. “I don’t want to see you get hurt!”
“You tried to kill my father! You lied to me!”
“I’m sorry!” It was useless. I’d thought that maybe I’d be able to reason with him and persuade him to lie low for a while, but he was far too angry to listen.
And then, as I glanced around the room in frustration, I saw what was different. Like many places around the city, they’d brought in portable heaters to keep the place warm despite the blizzard outside. But last time I’d been here....I shut my eyes to make sure, going back to that day we’d had lunch. Yes...there’d been two heaters, one in each corner of the room, pumping out hot air.
Now there were three.
Luka still had the gun on me but I forced myself to turn away and shout to a waiter. “When did the extra heater arrive?” I asked in English.
He looked blank.
Well, I guess it didn’t matter anymore. “When did that extra heater show up?” I demanded in Russian.
The waiter stared at me as if I was crazy and then shrugged. “A few minutes ago. Some guys in overalls.”
When I looked back at Luka, his face was thunderous. Yes, I could understand all your Russian. Sorry. Just another lie I’d told him.
I took a step towards the heater. Luka raised the gun a little.
I took a shuddering breath. “I think it might be a bomb,” I said, saying it in English so I didn’t panic a hundred jumpy Russians. “If you’re going to shoot me, then shoot me.”
And I walked over to the heater. Luka tracked me with the gun the whole time.
There was no hot air coming out of the heater and the surface was stone cold. I didn’t dare try to open it, but I looked through the vents.
There were wires and bricks of gray stuff even I recognized as plastic explosive.
I stood up. “Tell them all to get out!” I yelled.
Luka stood there, the gun still pointing at my head. And now I could see the hurt in his eyes, the anger that came from a deeper place.
“You can kill me later,” I told him. “Just get everyone out.”
He held my gaze a second longer and then lowered the gun. Then he shouted, full volume, for everyone to get out, shooting into the ceiling a few times for good measure. The diners and waiters stampeded for the door. Luka, Vasiliy, Yuri and I were left standing there until the end. Then Vasiliy and Yuri grabbed Luka and pulled him and he pulled me, and we all stumbled down the steps and onto the street.
When we came to a stop, I found myself right up against Luka, as close to him as I had been that time at the party, back in New York. He was breathing deep and hard and he suddenly grabbed me by the upper arms. I tensed, staring up into his furious face.
One of the diners tried to run past us, back inside. Yuri grabbed her arm.
“My son!” she screamed. “I think he’s in the bathroom!”
I took a step towards the restaurant, but Luka shoved me back against Yuri and ran up the steps. Yuri tried to follow his master, loyal to the end, but Vasiliy pulled him back.
We watched as Luka disappeared into the restaurant. Seconds passed. Vasiliy put his hand on my shoulder and it was comforting, even with the knowledge that he probably wanted to kill me.
The restaurant exploded. I had to close my eyes as a hot wind blew fragments of glass and china and wood right at us. I felt one slash my cheek. But I was focused on the image behind my eyelids, the snapshot my perfect fucking memory had burned into my brain forever: the windows of the restaurant caved outward by orange fire.
I’d killed him. My heart collapsed down like a black hole, sucking everything else that I was down with it. I didn’t dare open my eyes because, when I did, he would truly be gone.
I heard the mother’s hopeful sob. My eyes flew open. As the smoke cleared, I saw Luka lying flat on the ground just in front of the restaurant doorway, where he must have hurled himself as the bomb went off. His body was hunched protectively over something and the back of his suit was smoldering.
I ran over to him and slapped out the flames. He lifted himself from the young boy he’d shielded and the boy staggered off towards his mother.
“I thought you were dead!” I croaked.
Luka got slowly to his feet, wincing a little.
“We Malakovs are not so easy to kill,” said Vasiliy. “Come. Get in car.”
Yuri grabbed my shoulder and started walking me towards a car, where more of Vasiliy’s men were waiting.
“You want me to go with you?” I looked at Luka, but his face was unreadable. “For what? Luka?!” He didn’t answer.
I looked at Vasiliy. “What’s he going to do with me?” I asked.
Strong hands pushed me into the car.
“Whatever he wants,” Vasiliy said grimly.