Unforgiven: Grace Sufficient, #4

Chapter 1

THIRTY-FIVE YEARS SINCE he’d darkened the door of a church, and this time, Mother’s hand didn’t drag him.

Vladislav Genkin yanked the door wide, the metal searing a path across his palm thanks to the morning sunlight. A melee of voices, raised in song, bled into the space between the double glass doors.

But not even a thousand songs—nor baptisms and endless confessions—could atone for his sins.

He jerked open the second door, swelling the voices into a smack across his face.

A few steps had him at the back row of chairs—chairs, instead of formal pews. No vaulted ceiling soared overhead, and no incense clouded the air.

Was this even a church? The guy leading the songs at the front of the room didn’t wear the minister’s garb of a long robe.

Vlad crossed his arms over his chest, a buffer to the weight of several curious gazes raking him. As weird as the church was, it attracted people—at least a hundred and fifty crowded the room.

Including him.

The ex-CIA officer wouldn’t look the same—four years and a surgeon’s knife changed a man. If the old doctor’s databases hadn’t lacked security, he might’ve been safe.

Yet one night of work had revealed the truth—and consequently destroyed it.

Vlad’s hand crept to the warm grip of the PYa in the shoulder holster, but a slow scan of each row revealed lots of kids, lots of young people, and lots of old people.

And him.

Vlad lowered his hands to his sides.

The surgeon had done a good job, and with added muscle, shorter hair, and a clean-shaven face, he’d done all he could.

Yet it wasn’t enough.

The singing slowed to a natural halt, and the guy at the front of the room stepped aside for an older man to take his place.

Nausea roared up Vlad’s throat.

The elder cleared his throat, tucking a black Book under his arm. Amen, His Blood does make the foulest clean, for it availed for me.

The congregation responded with ardent amens.

Did they get a spiritual bonus point for responding to the minister’s every word?

Sounded right for a bunch of sheeple.

Praise Him for His love and grace. The man lifted the Book. "‘Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.’"

Conversations exploded, and the church members turned to each other, laughing and smiling as piano music joined the cacophony.

Finally.

Vlad stepped from the row and started for the left side of the room. Only short seconds stood between him and peace—supposedly.

Hey, good morning!

Vlad stopped short to avoid smacking right into a smiling, nosy churchgoer.

Of course.

I saw you step in late. The man offered a hand, the faint creases around his eyes pinning him in his mid-thirties. Glad to have you. My name’s Gabe Kelly.

An American.

Vlad fisted his hand at his side as two chattering kids skipped past.

An American with an unforgettably stupid name. Americans were fools, but why would they send someone so naïve and blatantly foreign as an agent?

Then the kid was just another of Lavrov’s mistakes—the absurd smile was enough to prove he missed more than a few brain cells.

This man was no American agent.

So Vlad grasped Kelly’s offered hand, even though Dad would roll over in his grave if he knew his son shook hands with an American. Thanks.

Kelly’s gaze flickered, but the smile remained.

Another idealistic, cheerful moron.

And your name?

Self-preservation demanded an alias, but now it didn’t matter. Vladislav Fyodorovich Genkin.

Kelly didn’t even blink. It’s a pleasure, Vladislav. Are you new to the area, or are you looking for a church to attend?

No. To both questions. I’d like to speak to one of your congregants.

Kelly’s shoulders stiffened, but his expression remained amiable. Who?

Nikolai Petrovich Alexandrov. Another assumed name, but the American moniker of Nicholas Bates wouldn’t help.

Oh? Kelly glanced across the room, his gaze veering toward Alexandrov. Let me talk to Nikolai. We’ll meet out front in a few minutes.

Heat gathered against Vlad’s chest. It’s a personal matter.

Still, it’s best if we meet outside. The crowds shifted behind Kelly as people exited the building, creating a clear line of sight.

And cold trickled through Vlad’s gut.

Alexandrov.

Smiling, laughing, his arm around a young woman—a woman with an infant in her arms.

Vlad ground his teeth. Nothing had gone right today, but was that a surprise?

Nothing had gone right in years.

He tipped a nod to Kelly. If you insist.

Yeah. We’ll meet out front in a few.

Or not. Alexandrov stood, and that ex-CIA gaze circled the congregation.

The man was decent—no reaction tightened his features or brightened his eyes—yet his face paled.

Vlad’s fingers pressed into his palm. Even now, he struck fear in a hardened officer.

A hand closed around his arm.

Fire surged, and he jerked back, his hand seeking the warm grip of the PYa.

I wouldn’t. A well-muscled guy stood a pace away, hand lingering near his hip. Come outside with me.

Now security was onto him—as if he’d invite any more guilt to press upon his soul by harming innocent churchgoers.

The hulk motioned toward the aisle that led to the doors. After you.

Another swore rose, but he had to play by the rules if he wanted to finish the job. And given Kelly had fled the scene to flank Alexandrov, the preacher boy must’ve called in the muscle of the security to usher Vlad out the door.

A few years ago, the twisted compliment would’ve spiked satisfaction.

Nothing did now.

He swallowed the curse and rounded the guy.

A woman stepped out of the row just to his left, and he paced past her—no need to respond to her high-pitched apology. More women, prattling on, clustered around a baby in a carrier and cooed over the thing as if they’d never seen a child in their lives. 

Only one lifted her head as he passed, her hair falling in silky waves past her shoulders.

Cold flashed through him.

No.

Her dark gaze darted away from his own in half a second, and she turned back to the group of women, smiling.

Yet it’d take more than fifteen years to forget those eyes.

His hands bunched back into fists, and he shoved the doors open. Warm air brushed his face, a mockery of summer’s peace.

She’d never been religious. Why now, and in this particular pseudo-church? 

If anything else went wrong today, it’d be a bullet through his brain.

What did you say your name was?

Not the brute. Vlad halted on the walkway fronting the building, maintaining distance from the front doors. I’m not here to talk to you.

The big guy propped his hands on his hips, his polo shirt tugging tight against his pecs. Well, you are now.

Dumb, tough muscle—strange that a church employed that type of man.

Vlad shook his head and turned toward the busy street running parallel to the church’s parking lot.

She’d hardly changed in fifteen years.

Do you have a reason for coming?

An ache pulsed up the back of Vlad’s neck, matching the steady flow of traffic on the street. So Kelly hadn’t communicated much with the oaf. I am here to talk to one of your congregants.

Who?

The guy should be glad he had several centimeters and many kilograms on Vlad—otherwise, he’d be silenced with a well-placed punch to the nose. None of your business.

A whoosh of cool air shivered up his spine, and he pivoted.

Not Katya with blazing eyes and furious words, but Alexandrov—without Kelly. No obvious gun shadowed his side, yet that didn’t mean it wasn’t concealed elsewhere.

Vlad’s heart rate clambered upward, yet Alexandrov’s gaze held nothing, his jaw tight.

His eyes hadn’t been half as expressionless at Lavrov’s. 

Alexandrov cleared his throat. Daniil, go on. We’ll speak privately.

The big guy didn’t move. Nikolai—

A short shake of Alexandrov’s head. Contacts had turned the blue of his irises to brown. I’ll be back in a minute.

The oaf mumbled something and turned on his heel, but his gaze remained heavy on Vlad’s back.

Enough space to allow privacy, but close enough to keep a bead on Vlad’s head—a welcome threat as Alexandrov rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. What do you want?

Vlad’s sigh hissed through his teeth. My name is Vladislav Fyodorovich Genkin.

Alexandrov’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths that dared to compete with the pulse jumping at his neck. I know who you are.

And you are aware of what I did to you.

Alexandrov’s eyes narrowed. What do you want?

The hardness of the man’s jaw spoke a thousand words—as did the tremors in his hands.

Simple words couldn’t atone for Alexandrov’s suffering, yet the words had to be spoken. I’m not turning you in.

Alexandrov just stared at him.

A curse tumbled out, Vlad’s heart pounding his ribcage and thudding against the PYa.  I committed crimes that are ... reprehensible.

Abhorrent. Wicked. Hideous.

Empty words, yet none were as useless as the ones that crowned his tongue with a bitterness only vodka could silence. I’m here to ask your forgiveness.

Forgiveness.

Alexandrov blinked, and his gaze swung away, his pulse throbbing a race at his temple. The rush of traffic thickened the air, interjected by a couple of raging car horns.

Maybe Alexandrov’s reply—in whatever form—held that illusion of peace always just beyond his grasp.

Alexandrov released a slow sigh and finally shook his head, his gaze looping back up to Vlad’s. I forgave you a long time ago, Genkin. But only because Jesus forgave me of countless wrongs.

A growl rose. Religious lunacy. Why didn’t one of these men—any of them—just pull a gun and end it?

How did you find me?

Alexandrov’s words barely pierced the haze of crimson. There are ways of finding people if you look.

I ... see. Alexandrov rocked back on his heels again, and the sunlight glimmered against the sheen of sweat on his brow.

That first week, he’d been untouchable—an officer trained to endure interrogation and torture.

Yet brutality knew no bounds in destroying a man.

The church’s doors swept open again, and Vlad shifted as an old couple meandered out. Alexandrov tipped a nod to them, causing the ancient woman to beam and waggle her fingers in greeting.

Acid burned Vlad’s throat. If there’s ever anything you need ...

As if an ex-interrogator could do anything for the type of man Alexandrov played himself to be.

Alexandrov shook his head. Not necessary.

And neither was this.

Vlad forced back the curse and brushed past Alexandrov, clearly exposing his entire back as a target.

Gravel crunched under his shoes, yet no report shattered the parking lot.

He slammed his eyes shut.

And everything was still the same.

What was he doing here?

Katya Voronova dragged in a breath against the pounding of her heart—there was no use turning back to the door to double-check if the man had truly been Vlad. There was no mistaking his features, even with a baseball hat on his head.

Yet he was gone. And therefore, a nurse’s duties remained.

She pasted on a fake smile—it held just as well now as it did in the ER—and rounded a group of teenagers to reach where Molly and her husband always sat. How are two of my favorite patients?

A far better topic than fretting over Vlad’s appearance, even if her pulse still raced.

Molly lifted her head, and the sunlight shining through the windows caught on the dark circles rimming her eyes. Yet her smile came sweet as ever as she smoothed a hand over Irina’s fuzzy head. We’re doing well. She slept through the entire sermon. I told Nikolai that Sergei must have a soothing voice.

Katya forced a necessary laugh and sank down onto the chair next to Molly and Irina. He does ... on occasion.

Molly breathed a laugh. How are you?

I’m ... well. Too much of a pause, so there was only blustering onward—and no looking over her shoulder. Is the little angel sleeping perfectly?

Molly’s smile mirrored the one many new mothers wore—blissful with love but slow with exhaustion. Not at two in the morning.

Then that makes Sunday afternoon a good time for mama’s nap.

Molly nodded and swirled her fingers through Irina’s downy hair. That sounds like a good idea.

And so was keeping Molly talking, just in case she noticed the stupid rambling. Where’s Nikolai? Chatting with some of the guys?

No, he’s outside. Molly tugged at the hem of Irina’s tiny pink dress. Someone wanted to speak with him.

Katya’s ears buzzed.

Vlad had gone outside—with Daniil trailing him.

Katya?

She blinked and renewed the smile. Sorry. Many others had gone outside, too—not just Vlad. What were you saying?

Molly’s frown didn’t ease. I—

I don’t like it! The man’s voice cut through the din of conversation, and Katya leaned backward to peek around Molly and Irina.

Evgeny Yurlov stood at the door, gesturing harshly—that had sounded like his voice. Gabe stood beside him, but his reply melted into the chaos.

Evgeny’s didn’t. The man is dangerous, and you know it.

Katya’s breath froze.

Vlad—dangerous? Not unprovoked. Surely this had nothing to do with him.

Please.

Molly stifled a cough. So, how has—how has your week been?

Something was wrong.

A jumble of curse words flooded in.

Forgive me, Lord.

Even if Vlad deserved every one of them.

She cleared her throat. I’m sure everything’s okay. A lie nurses said too often, even if the words seemed the only appropriate answer.

Forgive me.

Molly stared at her. What do you—what do you mean?

Something’s going on with Nikolai, isn’t it?

Two beats of silence, Molly’s gaze unblinking.

Katya’s gut cramped.

This couldn’t have anything to do with Vlad.

Right?

Molly shifted in her seat and tugged at Irina’s dress again. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably something to do with work.

What could a prison employee have to do with Nikolai’s construction work?

When will she actually start smiling at me?

Katya ran her tongue over her dry lips, the faint sweetness of chapstick touching her tongue. Molly’s attempt at conversation was commendable. I’d say in a few weeks.

Good. Molly brushed Irina’s round cheek with a gentle finger. I can’t wait until she can communicate more.

Mm. Katya reached over and squeezed the baby’s tiny, socked foot.

Why? Why him?

Molly turned to look over her shoulder again.

Katya released Irina’s foot.

Please, let it be nothing.

Katya twisted in her seat.

Nikolai approached, his face was pale. But nothing else indicated distress—and Vlad wasn’t with him.

The knot in her stomach eased.

Molly jolted to her feet, clutching Irina close. Nikolai?

He shook his head, and his gaze veered to Katya. How’s it going?

I’m fine. His respiration was shallow. And ... you? 

The knot jerked tight again.

Doing all right. He stepped into the row behind her and reached over the seats to grab his Bible.

His hand shook.

No.

Ready to go, Molly?

Molly cleared her throat and nodded at her husband’s question. Let me just get Irina ready.

Katya’s fingers curled into her palm as Molly knelt beside Irina’s car seat. If Vlad were the source of this ... I’ll see you at tonight’s service?

Molly tucked a blanket around Irina’s sleeping form, and she glanced up at her husband.

He nodded, his dark gaze resting on Irina—not on Molly. Sounds good.

Molly offered Katya a wobbly smile as Nikolai grasped the handle of the carrier. See you tonight, then.

Katya nodded. Okay. But she didn’t rise as the couple moved toward the exit. No need to risk another sighting of Vlad—especially as Nikolai slid his arm around Molly’s waist in a gesture all too easy to understand.

Something was terribly wrong.

The crunch of footsteps stilled Vlad’s hand on the car door.

Now what?

He turned, his free hand rising to the warmth of the PYa. A tall man approached—with a handgun lurking at his side.

Vlad’s gut twisted as the man’s features became apparent.

Why hadn’t he considered he could attend this church as well? His attachment to Kelly had nearly gotten the minister killed, after all.

Vlad lowered his hand from the door. Need something, Yurlov?

Evgeny Yurlov—the man who’d been too afraid, too sensible, and too moral to use force on a prisoner.

Yurlov halted a couple of meters away, jaw twitching but hands unmoving at his sides. Why are you here? You should be in jail.

As if the government cared what he’d done—their cronies paid for it. Lavrov’s scheme of funneling international secrets and inside government schemes to countless politicians came at a cost. You know why I’m here.

Yurlov’s eyes flashed. For Nikolai.

I’m not hurting your friend.

Oh, you’re not? Yurlov stepped forward, hands bunching into fists. Because you already nearly killed him?

He’s alive. Be thankful for it.

Thankful? Yurlov jerked his head toward the church. Thankful he has to live with the memories of what you and your type did to him? Thankful you march into a church service like a specter when he’s simply trying to care for his family?

Yurlov, with all his bluster, had no idea he was the lesser of voices that broke those endless nights. Yet a smirk wormed its way to Vlad’s lips. Ever the poet, aren’t you?

I’m speaking the truth. Yurlov’s chest rose and fell in hard breaths, straining against his button-up. If you even get close to Nikolai again, don’t expect to leave.

What kind of Russian was Yurlov to get so close to an ex-CIA officer? Add that to the rest of the man’s lacking qualities. Don’t worry. My business is done here. He yanked the car door open.

Not so fast. What did you want with Nikolai?

Vlad jerked his suit coat off and tossed it to the passenger side. Yurlov’s reflection glinted in the side mirrors. Personal business.

Turning him in?

Vlad released a hard sigh and half-turned back to Yurlov, settling his hand on his hip so Yurlov got a clear view of the PYa in the shoulder holster. If I wanted to turn him in, I would’ve done it long before now.

Then why are you here? Yurlov’s words ground through his teeth. Prying for more secrets? Looking for more blood money?

Yurlov was so emotional. I got all I needed from him a long time ago.

Not that it’d resulted in anything. Lavrov’s empire had fallen within hours.

Yurlov’s eye twitched. You’re a coward. Get your disgusting self out of here and don’t ever come back.

Like that wasn’t what he was trying to do while Yurlov jabbered on. I’m leaving. The smirk rose again, tasting of bitterness. But maybe you should look in the mirror someday, Yurlov. You’re really no different from me.

But he was.

Yurlov’s features twisted, and he lurched forward.

Idiot.

Evgeny!

Vlad lowered his hand from the PYa as Yurlov glanced over his shoulder.

A man strode toward them—the smiling pastor boy. 

At least he wasn’t smiling now.

Kelly halted beside Yurlov, his gaze darting between his imbecile friend and Vlad. What’s going on?

No need to answer—Vlad had done nothing to incite Yurlov.

Yurlov’s glare never wavered from Vlad. You know what’s going on. You know who he is.

Yeah, but he was leaving. Let the man go.

You were there, Gabe. Yurlov’s eyes flamed. This man would’ve—would’ve ... 

Tortured a minister.

Yet Kelly had escaped from Lavrov’s prison before much could be inflicted upon him.

Kelly shook his head. He was leaving peacefully. There’s nothing we can do about the past. Nikolai told me to let it go.

That’s stupid. Yurlov jerked a nod toward Vlad. You know what he could do to Nikolai. To Molly and the baby.

Kelly’s gaze snapped to Vlad, and silence hovered for long beats.

Here came the sermon on loving one another or something equally empty.

Kelly released a breath. This isn’t a threat, Mr. Genkin, but it’s a warning. His hands were loose at his sides—no gun on him. We will protect our brothers and sisters from harm. If it’s harm you’re seeking ...

A swear rose. I’m not here to hurt him or his family. I would have if I’d wanted to, don’t you think?

Kelly’s jaw tightened. Then I’m glad we’re both clear on this situation. Come on, Evgeny. Let the man go his way.

Kelly turned, gravel crunching under his steps.

But Yurlov eyed Vlad for a breath.

Vlad lifted a brow. Something else to say?

Yurlov’s lip curled into a snarl, then he spun and marched after Kelly.

Neither of them turned back, but judging from Yurlov’s mannerisms, he was giving Kelly an earful. Probably expounding on all the ways Vlad would’ve mercilessly tormented the man if things hadn’t turned out the way they had.

He cursed and sank into the driver’s seat. Slammed the door shut.

Rather than clearing his conscience, he’d been accused of threatening Alexandrov and his family.

What was the use of this?

Every turn, every counter to his guilty conscience, failed.

He banged his fist against the steering wheel, radiating dull pain up his forearm.

Somehow, it’d gone worse than he’d imagined.

First Alexandrov, then she appeared.

Katya.

She was as beautiful as she’d ever been.

Another curse rose, and he jerked the key in the ignition.

Just another example of something good that had gone terribly wrong.

Just like his miserable life.

Chapter 2

ONE FLIGHT OF STEPS shouldn’t be so difficult.

Katya huffed out a breath and hiked the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. Either that upcoming fortieth birthday was catching up, or twelve-hours shifts were just killers.

Probably a combination.

She finally reached the landing and stepped to Nikolai and Molly’s door. A light knock—just in case Irina was napping.

A few seconds of silence passed, easing her heart rate a touch, and the door opened to reveal Molly’s smiling face. Katya! I was—I was hoping you’d stop by.

Healthy color tinged Molly’s face—a good sign. How are you and Irina faring today?

We’re doing well. Molly opened the door wide and waved Katya in. Let me get you some tea. I was just making some.

Katya followed Molly down the short hallway into the kitchen and sniffed the warm scent. Smells good. Ginger?

Molly tossed a smile and moved to the teapot sitting on the counter. You’d think I’d be tired of it after drinking so much of it while I was pregnant.

Katya laughed and sank onto one of the two chairs at the kitchen table. Ginger’s good for you, and it smells way better than I do. Sorry to bring the hospital to you.

Oh, no, you’re fine. Molly poured tan-colored tea into a ceramic mug, her thin hands graceful and efficient—pianist’s hands. You came straight from work, then? Was it busy?

Molly’s words came rushed, much as they had when Katya had first visited with Grandmama’s tinctures to relieve morning sickness.

Did this nervousness have something to do with yesterday? 

Katya cleared her throat. Yeah, it was busy. We had a massive heart attack patient, but we got him into surgery, and it looks like he’ll make a full recovery.

Oh, thank the Lord. Molly lifted the full mugs from the counter and turned back to Katya. I don’t know how you deal with that much stress. I’d lose my mind.

Katya shrugged as she accepted the mug of tea. Well, don’t ask me to play the piano like you do in church. I’d lose my mind, and so would you.

Molly laughed. I’m sure you would do a wonderful job.

I’m sure I wouldn’t. Two years of piano lessons had proved her musical skills less than satisfactory. Thanks for the tea, by the way.

Oh, you’re welcome. Molly stood and motioned to the little jar of honey on the table. Feel free to take as much as you’d like. I’m going to get Irina from her nap.

Okay. Thanks.

Molly’s footsteps creaked out of the kitchen and down the hall, and Katya closed her eyes.

How to broach the subject with Molly? Maybe Vlad had nothing to do with Nikolai’s behavior ... but what if there were some connection?

Why did he have to show up at church, Lord? Of all places.

The hospital would’ve been the better choice—and then maybe a quick trip to the morgue.

She ran her thumb along the handle of her mug.

Not a Christian thought, but what else did cheaters deserve?

Katya’s here to see you, Irinushka. Molly ambled back into the kitchen, smiling down at the baby cradled in her arms. And you have to wake up to see her.

Katya’s throat tightened. But I just want to sleep, Mama.

Molly laughed and settled back into her chair, still gazing at Irina. I know you do, but you can’t sleep forever, love.

She’s beautiful. Katya reached out and smoothed her hand over Irina’s head.

I agree, though I’m biased.

Katya fluffed Irina’s silky hair a few more times—was anything more adorable than baby hair?—then lifted her mug from the table. How have you been feeling this week? And no vague answers. I’m your nurse.

Molly slid her thumb into Irina’s tiny grasp, smile aimed at Irina. New mothers possessed a special type of adoration for their babies—and no wonder.

He’d taken that gift from her, too.

I’m doing well. Molly finally looked up, Irina still clasping her finger. I’m finally starting to feel more like myself ... just without sleep.

Katya breathed a laugh and took a drink of tea. Only a little over a month had passed since Molly had given birth—enough time to see improvement, but not enough for a complete recovery from a difficult delivery. And you’ve been drinking the tea I gave you?

Every morning and every night. Molly tipped her mug toward Katya. I drink tea all the time.

It’s good for you. And Grandmama would agree. You’re getting enough protein? Resting when you’re tired? Not doing any strenuous activity?

Molly nodded. Yes, Nurse.

Katya rolled her eyes at Molly’s gentle tease. I have to make sure you’re not running around the apartment cleaning and cooking like a wild woman. You know how much I had to yell at Sofia when she was pregnant, don’t you?

I’m definitely not Sofia. Molly took a sip of tea and wrinkled her nose. I just had all the emotions. Poor Nikolai had to put up with me being up and down every day. Seems like I still am sometimes.

Hormones will do that. But Nikolai seems like a calm guy.

Molly gave another hum, joined by a half-hearted smile.

A smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Tension crept into Katya’s neck. Molly ...

Hmm? She leaned over to press a kiss to Irina’s tiny hand.

Katya swallowed against the ginger tickling her tongue. Yesterday, when Nikolai went outside and talked to someone ... you seemed upset. So did he. Is something wrong? 

Molly’s throat worked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. I’m glad you asked. I was hoping you’d stop by so I could—could talk to you about it.

No. Please, Lord. Just not Vlad. Of course. You know I love stealing time with Irina.

Molly’s smile wavered.

Katya’s pulse throbbed at the base of her jaw. Please.

Molly pulled in a slow breath. I ... I didn’t tell you much of the truth yesterday, and I’m so sorry for it. Can you forgive me?

Lines branched from Molly’s eyes, and Katya reached over to settle a hand on her arm. You hardly lied, I’m sure. You can’t just say everything in the middle of church, and I don’t blame you for that.

Molly shook her head. Yes, but I shouldn’t have tried to deceive you. I’m so sorry.

It’s okay. You’re forgiven. And it’d help if she’d just spit out the truth.

Thank you. Molly offered a tremulous smile. I wasn’t sure what was happening yesterday, but that doesn’t make my actions right.

Well, I forgive you, so no more worrying about it.

And no more stalling.

Irina stirred, letting out a whimper, and Molly rocked her gently. I can’t go into detail, and it’s not because of you. It’s ... very personal.

I understand.

Or not.

Molly bit her lip. That man ... knew Nikolai several years ago. But it’s nothing to be worried about.

Had there been other guests yesterday?

Please ...

Katya tightened her fingers around the warm mug. Who?

Molly’s throat worked. I think he walked in late. You might’ve not seen him.

It had to be him. If he’d been there the entire morning, surely she would’ve known.

Oh, help me.

What did a prison guard have to do with Nikolai Alexandrov, the most average and nice guy in the world?

It wasn’t a very long conversation. More of ... an apology, I suppose, for what happened. Molly took a sip of tea and set the mug back down, blinking quickly. Please don’t ask me anything else. I can’t say much.

Katya’s stomach squirmed. Because of Vlad, she was a horrible friend and an even worse nurse—patients needed privacy. I’m sorry, Molly. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. But thank you for telling me.

I—I felt terrible about it last night. Not telling you the truth and everything.

Don’t feel terrible. Molly and her sensitive heart. If only Katya could be the same—yet worldly innocence seemed impossible to reclaim.

You’re my friend, and you’ve done so much for me and Irina. All of us, really.

And you’ve done so much for me. Letting me love on this little girl. Katya smiled down at Irina.

Too bad the smile wasn’t sincere, because even Irina’s adorable face couldn’t drive away the truth.

Vlad had caused this—whatever this was.

Nine o’clock, and the man still hadn’t left.

Nothing went according to plan anymore.

A slow breath leaked out, rasping Vlad’s leather coat against the warm brick of the building. Another few minutes, and he’d begin the long trek home—walking was the best choice after a late night and a bottle of vodka.

Yet the door to the office still remained closed. Neither of the men who’d exited a couple of hours ago had matched Botrov’s new—and altered—appearance. 

Maybe Vlad’s information was incorrect. Maybe the ex-Serbian official hadn’t returned to Moscow.

Stupid to return to this place—or incredibly daring.

Just like Alexandrov.

A swear tumbled out, and Vlad pushed from the wall. Enough stalling. There’d be more chances—maybe.

He stepped from the alley and onto the clean sidewalk. Summer’s afterglow was long gone, and darkness clung close, rimming the