Page 47 of Echoes of Sin

“No matter what,” he replied grimly as he parked down the street. “Are you sure you can handle this?”

“There’s nothing I can’t handle to keep Karina safe.” I was scared as hell, but my words were true. “She’s the goal, the priority, Ilya.” I opened the car door, and he reached out and grabbed me by the wrist.

“You have to be careful, Brooke. Take it slow and easy, and don’t give away anything of what you’re feeling. My uncle’s men will be able to read you like a book.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Be safe,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss to my wrist. “Please.”

“I will.”

I exited the car and walked towards the house that had been home to me for years as if I were a complete stranger. I climbed the porch steps and took a deep breath. Then I shoved my key into the lock and pushed the door open. “Hello?”

I stepped inside hesitantly and waited for Lara or Karina to greet me with wide smiles, but there was nothing.

I swallowed hard and stepped inside, clenching my jaw as I flipped on the light switch, nearly screaming when it illuminated the living room. “Lara.” I took in the sight of my best friend sitting on the sofa, Dmitri beside her, and my terrified daughter on her lap, clinging to her. “What’s up?”

Her gaze darted left, and that’s when I knew for sure they weren’t alone. “Nothing much,” she whispered, and gifted me with a shaky smile.

Okay, you got this. I didn’t have this at all, but I had to be strong. “Hey, Karina. Mommy missed you.”

Her gaze darted to the left and then she looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Missed you too, Mommy.” She sniffled and I ached to reach out to her, but I couldn’t, not yet.

“Don’t stand about in the hallway. Get in here where I can see you. Now.” The voice was heavily accented and impatient. “Don’t make me ask again.”

I took one step forward and then another. “You didn’t ask the first time,” I replied shakily. “It was more like a command.”

His laughter was deep and full of amusement, which was unexpected. And terrifying. “You’ve got more fire than I imagined you would. Too bad you won’t have it for much longer.”

“Threats already when I don’t even know your name yet?” That sounded mostly normal, like I wasn’t at all scared.

He laughed again. “I am Oleg. Uncle Oleg to you, I suppose.”

I thought Ilya said his uncle was in Moscow, so when had he arrived in the US? I took one last step into the living room where I finally came face to face with Oleg Kuznetsov, the man who wanted me dead. I greeted him with a small smile acting worlds braver than I felt. I hoped that standing in the middle of the room would give Ilya a good vantage point when he came in through the back. “I’ve heard so much about you, finally, we meet.”

He was bigger than I expected, taller and stockily built with a bald head and piercing blue eyes that looked even more severe against his pale skin. A black clad men emerged from the shadows and flanked him. “You’re prettier than your pictures. Smaller than I expected.”

I shrugged. “I get that a lot. What is it that you want, Uncle Oleg?”

He laughed. “Are you ready to negotiate? It’s clear my nephew doesn’t have what it takes to do what I ordered.” Oleg looked to Dmitri and then Lara before his gaze settled on Karina, nearly a carbon copy of her father. “I have an idea why that might be.”

“You think you do. The same way you thought I knew about your business and ordered me killed.” He froze. “I knew nothing other than the numbers were off. I did my duty and warned my client. Nothing more. So, really, this is all your fault.”

He nodded to the muscle-headed goon at his side. “Good thing I’m here to remedy my problems. All of them.”

That was the threat I was waiting for. “Right.”

“You are strong and feisty. I can see what Ilya sees in you, which is why I will give you a choice. You can watch them die or let them watch you die.”

“Neither, please,” I offered up when a strong, beefy hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked. Hard. “Ow!”

“Don’t fight me,” the man growled in my ear, and tightened his grip on my hair. “Relax.”

He gripped me so tight it brought tears to my eyes. “What do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth while I struggled with the big oaf of a man.

“I have made it clear what I want,” Oleg answered. “It is Ilya who has forgotten to whom he answers.”

At that moment Ilya suddenly stepped into the living room from the kitchen, his gun pulled out and a scowl darkening his face. “It’s not me who’s forgotten, Uncle.”

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