Page 41 of Sin Wager
"Am I? Think about it. A man his age, with his money, his confidence—he could have any woman he wanted. Why you? Why now?" His eyes turn inky black, his brow furrowing. "You're impoverished, Vera. He's using you."
The questions challenge me, but I push them away. "He cares about me."
"Maybe. Or maybe you're useful to him somehow."
"Batya, stop."
"I'm not saying he doesn't care for you. I'm saying there's more to this story than he's telling you. The way he answered my questions, the way he deflected without lying—that's not honesty, Vera. That's a honed skill."
I want to argue, but something in his tone makes me hesitate. Batya has always been a good judge of character. He's seen enough people, worked with enough men, to recognize when someone is lying.
"Even if you're right," I finally say, "I don't care. He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel valued. I deserve that, don't I, Batya?"
Batya sighs. "And that's exactly what worries me. You're so grateful for his help that you're not asking the right questions."
"What questions?"
"What does he get out of this? What does he really want from you?"
I don't have good answers, so I don't try to give them. Instead, I kiss Batya's cheek and head toward my room with tears brimming in my eyes.
"I'm tired," I say. "We can talk about this tomorrow."
But as I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, Batya's words repeat in my mind. What does Misha really want from me? Is it just sex? Am I being naive?
I push the doubts away and focus on how it felt to watch him with my family—patient, respectful, genuine in his affection for Elvin. The way he looked at me when he thought no one was watching. The protective edge in his voice when I feel afraid.
Whatever his reasons for being with me, whatever secrets he's keeping, I'm already too deep to turn back. I'm falling in love with him, maybe already have fallen, and Batya's warnings feel too late to matter.
Tomorrow, he'll pick me up for work and keep me safe from whatever threatens me at the track. I'll pretend I didn't see the calculation in his eyes when he answered Batya's questions.
Because right now, Misha's protection feels more important than the truth.
16
MISHA
Iarrive at the track two hours before dawn, when the air still holds the night's chill and the stables are empty except for the horses shifting in their stalls. Three weeks have passed since I sat in Anatoly Kovalenko's cramped living room and answered his questions about my intentions toward his daughter. Three weeks since I watched Vera's face light up when her brother approved of me. Three weeks of playing the devoted protector while mapping every connection in the Radich operation.
The rumors about Pavel's death have settled into whispered speculation that always follows violent endings in this business. Some say he owed money to the wrong people. Others claim he was caught fixing races and paid the price. The official investigation concluded he was killed while trying to thwart race saboteurs. Probably best for everyone that he's being hailed a hero.
I walk through the stable complex, noting which stalls hold horses running today, which trainers are already preparing for morning workouts, which paths Vera will take during her rounds. By the time she arrives for her shift, I want every moment of her day mapped out.
Not for her protection, though that's what she'll believe. For mine.
The Radich crew has grown bolder since Pavel's death, not more cautious. Yesterday, I watched Sonya approach two different stable hands with envelopes, her movements too smooth and practiced to be anything innocent. She's expanding her network, replacing Pavel with multiple smaller assets. The operation is evolving, and I need to understand the full scope before Nikolai loses patience with my progress reports. He's given me a few weeks to do more ground work following the dead jockey being discovered, but I don’t have long if I want to keep my blood inside my body.
My phone buzzes with a text from Vera.
Vera 7:13 AM: On my way. Coffee?
I respond immediately.
Misha 7:13 AM: Already have it waiting.
The response comes back with a heart emoji, and I feel that familiar twist in my chest—part satisfaction at her trust, part something more dangerous that I refuse to examine too closely. I don't have time to get wrapped up emotionally, though I know I'm already in too deep. If I don't keep my wits about me, this situation will get us both killed. I need clear thinking if I'm going to extricate Vera from Sonya's network and keep her out of Nikolai's crosshairs.
Twenty minutes later, she appears at the track's employee entrance, her hair in its usual braid, work boots laced tight. The morning light catches the green of her eyes as she spots me waiting with two steaming cups.
