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I’m not giving him room to tell me how it’s going to be this time. If he’s leaving, we’re going with him.
“Mel.” Gleb’s head gives a slight twitch, tipping to the side as he delivers his single-worded warning. He’s as good as saying no—even if it’s only his eyes that tell me.
“Gleb,” I counter, planting my hands on my hips as I stand my ground.
We can’t seriously be right back here, can we? Having the same argument yet again? I don’t know what happened between breakfast and now to change his mind, but I can feel the energy pulling him toward the condo’s exit—and he fully intends to leave us behind.
“The place I’m headed isn’t just dangerous—it’s somewhere I can’t protect you. Mel, you need to trust me on this,” Gleb says evenly, though I detect a hint of apology in his tone. “Denka and Lev will be here shortly to keep an eye on you girls while I’m gone. I shouldn’t be long.”
No discussion, no compromise. He’s telling me how it’s going to be.
Again.
My chest tightens, my stomach sinking at the hopeless feeling of abandonment that seeps through me. He’s saying he’ll keep me safe, but what about him? Why is he always so eager to leave, so willing to put himself in danger?
My pulse quickens, my breath coming short and fast as I arm my defense.
“Whatever it is, it can wait. At least until we’re sure Vinny won’t send men after us.” I can’t stand the thought of seeing Gleb come back home all cut up and bleeding again—or worse, this time around. Just imagining it makes cold sweat break out across the back of my neck. Losing Gleb permanently? Knowing he’s dead? It fills me with a chilling sense of dread.
“No. It can’t wait,” he says firmly. “Every minute counts right now, Mel. I wish it were different.”
I can tell from the stillness in his shoulders that Gleb’s prepared for this conversation to go badly. I can feel it tipping toward the brink of another argument.
He’s already defensive. But right now, I don’t care. Because so am I. And for damn good reason.
“Tell me why,” I demand.
Gleb sighs, his frustration apparent, and he scrubs his face impatiently with his hands before combing his fingers back into his dark crew cut. “I can’t.”
“Because you know I won’t let you go?” I challenge, my defenses rising, as I assume that frustration is with me. “Does it have something to do with the Kellys?”
My arms drop to my sides, and Gabby’s fingers wrap around my pinky and ring finger as if to lend me some of her strength. My sweet little girl, comforting me when I feel like I’m falling apart. I don’t know how I got so lucky, and I squeeze her hand gratefully.
“No,” Gleb says firmly. “Vinny’s done. I told you, he’s not going to try anything. This has nothing to do with you or the Kellys. I promise. It’s Veles business. And I can’t talk about it because Pyotr swore me to secrecy.”
I get the sinking feeling that it must be bad if Pyotr won’t let Gleb talk about it to anyone. Gleb’s always been open with me about his jobs before. And it’s not like what he does for a living is exactly legal. Far from it, honestly. So, what’s different this time around?
My heart races to think of Gleb running headlong from one life-threatening conflict into another. I know the Veles are still at war with the Zhivoder. And if this isn’t about the Kellys, it’s more than likely about Mikhail and the sick Bratva he runs.
“Please don’t go,” I breathe, emotion constricting my throat.
Gleb’s shoulders drop, the tension washing from them as his defensive posture transitions into concern. His long legs carry him across the room in three lithe strides, and he stops before me, his green eyes fixed on mine. For once, I can see the conflict flicker across his angular face, giving away his emotion as his eyebrows twitch, buckling with silent strain.
Tenderly, he brushes the backs of his knuckles across my cheek. “I’ve arranged the best protection I can for you and Gabby. I wouldn’t leave if I wasn’t confident in that, Mel.”
“You’re doing it again,” I press. “Putting your life at risk. Leaving right after you tell me it’s not safe. I hate worrying about you every time you walk out the door.”
To my astonishment, Gleb smiles. It’s soft and warm and genuine, the emotion radiating from him to envelop me in a gentle caress. “I appreciate your concern. Really, Mel, I do. It means the world to me,” he murmurs, cradling my jaw with one palm so he can stroke my cheek with the pad of his thumb. His green eyes hold mine with such sincerity, I can’t doubt him.
And though I can feel the “but” coming, I can tell he’s working on communicating better—if not compromising. He’s talking, making an effort to reason with me about his decision, trying to explain himself when I know that’s not his natural inclination.
He’s still on the page of doing what he thinks needs to be done, but it gives me hope that he’s willing to talk about things—even if Pyotr has sworn him to secrecy on whatever he’s involved in.
“But I need to go,” Gleb presses softly.
There it is. The “but” I was anticipating. My mother always told me to take whatever comes before “but” with a grain of salt. It’s not the part of the sentence that holds meaning. And she’s right because all that really matters is Gleb won’t be talked out of leaving.
“Would it make you feel better to know my part in this isn’t all that risky?” he offers.
