Page 67 of The One Who Won’t Get Away
Chapter 28
Nadya
IDIDN’T SLEEP AT ALL.Instead, I made coffee at four in the morning and stared out the window at a city that didn’t care about what had happened in my apartment last night.
There were two drops of blood on the tile, and they would stay there until I felt like dealing with it.Or maybe I would leave it there as a reminder that he, too, could bleed.
Nick didn't sleep either, spending the night in the kitchen with me.We probably should've moved to the living room, but there was something comforting about kitchens.I got why Ljuba had become a chef.After we had gotten out of that house, got out of the foster care system, and got reunited, we had spent a lot of time sitting in the kitchen and talking about everything other than the things that haunted our nightmares.
When morning came, Nick made breakfast without being asked.He must've remembered what I had ordered while we were on the road because he made sure my food was extra greasy with eggs, sausages, and hash browns.He even remembered that I wanted to appease Vera at breakfast with a glass of OJ.
If he weren't here, I’d have probably not bothered eating, or maybe ordered delivery at most, then watched some movie and gotten drunk.Oh, who was I kidding?I’d have taken pain pills and hoped they would knock me out so I wouldn't even have to think.
At nine, the doorbell rang.Nick answered, his body blocking the entire door frame, but I could see around him to the two people in the hall.The guy was huge, with short-cropped red hair and a friendly smile.The woman was tiny, maybe five-foot-three on tiptoe, with black hair in a precise bob.She managed to look stylish wearing cargo pants.Serious goals right there.
“Nadya, this is Ryan and Leila,” Nick introduced.
Ryan grinned, showing a row of perfect teeth.“We heard you had a bit of excitement.”
Leila didn’t smile, but her eyes were sharp and interested.“Where do you want us to start?”
Nick looked at me, letting me decide.I shrugged because what difference did it make?I was a guest in my own home now.
“Let’s start with the main entry,” Nick said, sensing I wasn't in the mood to boss people around.
They got right to work.Ryan unpacked a toolkit that looked like it had its own Netflix subscription.Leila took out a laser measure and started mapping the door frame, muttering numbers in English and, occasionally, Russian.
That damned song started creeping into my head like a parasite.God, I hated that song.That asshole used to hum it before he’d...No.
I shoved the thought away, focusing on Leila instead.Whenever she switched languages, it was like her voice changed—suddenly softer, almost melodic, the syllables curling around each other.Where could she be from?Not the Caucasus.Her face wasn't shaped right for that.Central Asia?Yeah, that had to be it.
While Ryan removed the old lock and started chiseling for a reinforced strike plate, Leila measured every window, making notes on a tablet.She mumbled to herself in Russian, and what parts I could make out didn't have a discernible accent, which made me think of Central Asia again.They made everything sound so neutral.
Nick’s phone rang.He excused himself to the living room, voice low and steady.Even with the noise from the work, I heard him say, “No, it’s handled.I’ll stay here until they get the new system in.”Pause.“Yeah, I can do that.”
That was about me, right?Had to be.What was going on?
