I twist to look behind us, but there’s no other cars. It’s a tiny road. Not even a full road. Two trenches where tires repeatedly drove over the dirt make the path.
“No problem. I’ll pass it along. I’m picking up Elana in the morning, I’ll let him know then.”
“Thanks, Kaz.” Rurik hits the button on the dash screen to cut the call.
“Did you say Kaz?” I twist back around to face him, my attention distracted from the horror movie he’s driven us into.
“Yeah. He’s Alexander’s brother.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Kaz Volkov?” I press myself against the door.
“Mira.” He lays his arm across the steering wheel and turns to face me. “What’s wrong? Do you know Kaz?”
“Yeah.” I nod.
“How do you know him?” His voice dips, as though he’s asking a child to confess to something he already knows they did.
“Another mistake.” I sigh.
“You dated Kaz?” He looks like it’s the most absurd thing in the world.
And he’s right. Kaz Volkov doesn’t date. He fucks.
“No. We just—” I stop talking. None of this is his business. “I knew him. It’s very doubtful he remembers me.”
One night three years ago, I’m sure he’s had plenty of more memorable nights since then.
Rurik’s jaw tenses and he looks away. He wets his lips before tucking them between his teeth, like he trying to chew the annoyance out of himself.
“We’ll talk about it later.” He turns back around.
“Where are we?” More than happy to change the subject, I lean forward to get a better look at our surroundings. Up ahead there’s a small log cabin.
“Nowhere,” he says, pulling his phone out and scrolling through images.
When he gets to the one that mirrors the cabin in front of us, he stops, clicking on it. A document opens up on his phone, but it’s too small for me to read from where I am.
Curiosity has always been a weakness of mine. I lean toward him, trying to get a better look, which earns me a stern glare.
“Sit back.” He points to my seat.
“What are we doing here? Do you need to do another kidnapping?” I pull my feet up onto the seat with me and hug my knees.
“No.” He continues scrolling as he reads. “We aren’t doing anything.”
“Okay, then why are we sitting here like a bunch of weirdos?” I ask. He’s clearly here for something, and it’s not for a night of roughing it.
Silence stretches between us as he finishes with his phone. His jaw has tightened, and when he glances up at me his eyes have gone dark.
“You need to climb into the second row and lie down between the seats.” He pushes the button on the center console that moves my seat further up, making the gap between our seats big enough for me to climb through.
“No. I want to know what’s going on.” Being out in the middle of the woods with a man in the mafia while the sun is quickly sinking from the sky tends to put me on edge.
“I have work to do, and you need to do what I say.” He jerks his head toward the back. “Get back there and lie down. Do not, for any reason, get out of this car.”
His tone leaves no room for disagreement. Not that that would stop me, but there’s a vibe rolling off of him that makes me get moving. Whatever he’s here to do, it’s better that I don’t get involved.
Following Nico into that meeting with Marco DeAngelo got me into this mess. Hiding in the car while this mobster does his business is probably safest.