Sold to the Hitman(57)

“Sibir?” I repeat, the word falling from my mouth awkwardly. Then it dawns on me. “Siberia? You’re sending me to Yakutsk?” I shout, backing away and holding my arms over my stomach instinctively.

Andrei hurries forward to take me in his arms, even though I fight him in vain. He pulls me close and kisses the top of my head, soothing me with his stroking hands.

“You would have been safe there to wait for my return, Cassie,” he assures me. Then, looking over at Pavel, he asks, “Is there no other choice? Is there nowhere else?”

Pavel sighs and puts his hands on his hips, tapping his foot thoughtfully. “Well, I might have someplace you could go, for now. Moya sestra… she has a commercial property just north of here off the interstate. A warehouse. Pustoy. Funding fell through and now it’s just sitting there, unused.” He gives some directions in Russian I can’t even begin to follow.

Andrei is already nodding and leading me out of the building to the car. He calls over his shoulder, “And you will tell her we’re coming?”

“Da, da. Of course,” Pavel calls in response, waving his hand dismissively.

We get back into the car and speed away down the dirt road back to the highway, crossing quickly onto the interstate. It only takes us half an hour to reach our destination, and it is a pure miracle that we aren’t pulled over for speeding on the way.

Finally breaking my silence as he pulls me out of the car and guides me toward the big, looming gray warehouse, I spit, “You were going to just send me away like my parents did?”

Andrei looks at me with genuine hurt in his eyes, and I immediately regret my accusatory tone. Shifting the duffel bag on his shoulder as he opens a weather-beaten side door, he answers quietly, “No, Cassie. I would never do that to you. I would have followed you there once it was safe to do so.”

“Safe from what?” I press him.

He closes the door behind us and flicks a light on. After a second of flickering hesitation, a fluorescent light hums to light far overhead. It’s still quite dim, but at least now we can see where we’re going. The huge building is musty and eerie, completely abandoned yet clean enough to indicate that someone still intends to make something of it. There are big boxes stacked in ten-foot piles, and Andrei leads me toward what looks to be a tiny, nondescript office.

Once inside the office room, he sits me down on a dusty swivel chair and finally answers my question. “Cassie, moya printsessa, there are bad people who want to hurt me… and you.”

“Who are they?” I ask, my heart pounding.

“I’m sure you have guessed by now that I do not have a, ahh, traditional job.”

I cock my head to the side and look at him critically. “I know that sometimes you leave in the night and come back in the morning looking… different.”

Andrei stares down at the ugly brown carpet. “Yes.”

“I always worried that it might be something dangerous.”

“Yes.”

I pause, searching his face for answers. I am scared to ask anything else, scared to shatter the quickly-dilapidating illusion of our stability, our happy life together.

“Andrei, just tell me. What is going on?”

Finally, he looks up and meets my eyes. He looks impossibly sad.

“Ubiytsa. That is the word for what I am.” The word is heavy, but I don’t understand it.

“But what does that mean?” I press, my hands absently rubbing my belly.

“It means that for many years I have killed men for money,” Andrei answers simply.

My heart stops for a split second and I feel myself go cold, my head turning fuzzy, as though I might faint. Surely he doesn’t mean that. It’s ridiculous. My Andrei, my Prince Charming, my doting husband — he cannot be a cold-blooded murderer.

“No… that’s not true. It can’t be,” I say, my voice scarcely above a whisper.

Andrei nods slowly. “Yes, Cassie. It is true. I am sorry for keeping it from you, but I did not want to involve you, and I did not want you to fear me.”

“Fear you?” I repeat, starting to cry. “I… I am starting to wonder if I even know you.”

He looks paralyzed with remorse, with hurt. But I cannot take back what I’ve said.

“No, no, malyshka, you know me. The real me. I swear to you I have never shown anyone the side of me that you have seen. And you have changed me for the better,” he says quickly, moving forward to kneel in front of me, reaching for my hands.

I snatch them away and he looks heartbroken.

“How can I trust you, knowing that you have committed the most terrible sins?” I ask him honestly. “You are the father of my child, this little innocent inside me. But you… you hurt people for a living? Kill them?”