“Da,” Andrei agrees. “She takes after her mother in that way.”
After a pause, I say slowly, “I wonder if I will ever see my family again. Well, mostly I just miss Isaiah.”
“Your dorogoy bratik,” he says, nodding. “Well, perhaps someday.”
“But I wouldn’t even know how to keep us safe, much less protect him from whoever is after us,” I lament, fidgeting with the blankets. Andrei suddenly sits up.
“That reminds me,” he begins, getting to his feet.
“Where are you going?”
“The car. I will be back. Stay there.”
I lay back on the bedroll, rubbing my stomach, feeling around for the familiar kick of my unborn son. “How are you doing, little one?” I coo. “Everything is going to be alright, I promise. I love you more than you will ever understand.”
Just then, there’s the surreal, beautiful sensation I’ve been waiting for. A kick.
When Andrei comes back from the car, I call out to him excitedly, “Come feel the baby! He’s kicking, Andrei! He heard me talking to him!”
He rushes into the office and kneels down beside me, setting one hand down on my stomach, looking at me with expectant, joyous eyes. There it is. Another tiny, barely perceptible kick from the tiny child I’m carrying.
Andrei’s face lights up and he kisses my protruding belly sweetly. It’s then that I notice the gun in his hand. I gasp and point to it fearfully.
“What is that? Get it away from us!” I exclaim, trying and failing to wriggle away.
He hurriedly shakes his head and takes my hand. “No, malyshka, it’s okay. I promise. The safety is on. You’re not in any danger.”
“I don’t like guns,” I tell him firmly, eyeing the black device.
“I know. I don’t expect you to. But there may come a time when you will have to use one,” Andrei explains carefully. “I will do everything in my power to protect you, and that also means that I must give you a way to protect yourself.”
After a long minute of silent tension, I relent.
“Only for the sake of the baby,” I tell him.
“Khoroshaya devochka,” Andrei says, gently placing the gun in my hand. “I will teach you how to use it. I pray that you will never have to, but I need you to be prepared.”
“I understand,” I answer dutifully.
23
Andrei
The small wooden confinements around me creak ominously, and I find myself doing something I’d never think I’d be doing so intensely before — relying on the skills of others.
I’m being carried in a sealed wooden container by several of Sergei Slokavich’s henchmen. They’re the only ones who could get me onto the grounds of his estate without my being riddled with bullets within a matter of seconds. There is no client for this job. In the aftermath of slaying his beloved son, I need to deal with Sergei as a personal matter.
Indeed, my move against Sergei by killing his son caused some waves. It gave the lower ranks of the Bratva the inspiration they needed to take action against the old and increasingly corrupt regime. There have already been rumors of smuggling rings going rogue, distributing their profit amongst one another instead of their bosses. And some of the enforcers even drove out the dogfighting rings Kasym had brought in.
But I suppose I have Kasym and Kasym alone to thank for my ability to be smuggled into the manor tonight, so I should be more grateful.
I’m hiding inside his coffin.
It’s being transported to the manor prior to the body’s move from the morgue. Sergei wants to make sure everything is perfect for the small, quiet ceremony he and his circle of confidantes will hold. Mobsters like Sergei and his kind rarely hold funerals as public affairs. It’s too dangerous, they’ve decided, after having several such funerals shot up by rivals.
It’s a long ride inside my confinements, and I’m totally blind — betrayal at this stage would be the easiest thing in the world, and Sergei would no doubt reward my pallbearers generously for handing me over to him.
It’s a tense wait. While I’m used to taking calculated risks like this, now I have a woman and a child to care for. To protect. And if this ends with me being pumped full of bullets from an automatic already in the coffin, they will suffer. That weighs on me like nothing ever has before in a mission.
But after what seems like an eternity, I feel myself being lowered down, and footsteps shuffle away quickly. I wait another five minutes before pushing the top off quietly, having made sure the hinges were well-oiled before undertaking this ludicrous mission. When I stand up, I find myself in a cool and dry basement, surrounded by nothing but a few other crates and miscellany.