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“I’m not sure that I should say,” I semi-lied. “But…but if you just call him, then…he’ll…he’ll tell you that he knows me.”
“You assume that I have his phone number,” he stated calmly, causing me to let out a choked cry, Masha sobbing harder.
With my hands shaking, I knew that I had to prove myself, or else these men were going to kill us soon. “Then call Maksim Barychev,” I told him. “He’ll tell you that I know Avgust.”
After a few seconds of tense silence, he said, “Go sit with your sister.” His grin was positively sinister when he added, “We got to know her a little bit while we waited for you, Samara.”
Dropping my purse, I immediately rushed over to Masha, and as soon as I sat on the couch, she was wrapped in my arms, crying into my shoulder. I could feel her trembling, and all I could do was pray that Avgust took mercy on her, even if he wasn’t going to take any on me. Still, I didn’t care about that. I just had to save Masha; I couldn’t care about the rest of it.
When I looked back up at Alexei, he had his phone to his ear, and I had no idea who he was calling until he said, “Maksim, we have a problem.” He waited for Maksim to speak before adding, “We have a witness to what happened earlier, but she says that she knows Pakhan. Or more to the point, her older sister knows Pakhan. They’re names are Masha and Samara Andreev.”
“I’m so sorry,” Masha muttered brokenly. “I’m so sorry, Samara.”
Before I could comfort my sister, Alexei was standing in front of me, his arm stretched out with his phone in his hand. “Maksim would like to speak with you.”
My hand shook as I reached for the phone, but that couldn’t be helped. If anyone on this earth hated me more than Avgust Kotov, it was Maksim Barychev. “Maksim?”
“Long time, no see, kukla,” he said, and just by the sound of his voice as he called me doll, I knew that we weren’t going to make it out of here alive.
Chapter 7
Avgust~
As I rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, I was seething inside. The last time that I’d seen Samara Andreev, I’d made it clear that she’d better never cross my path again, and for years, she’d been good about not existing anywhere that I might run into her. Luckily for her, Port Townsend was big enough that you could get lost in the crowds, so it’d never been an issue to live in the same town after what had happened.
Until now.
When the elevator doors finally slid open, I walked out into the hallway, and Maksim was silently waiting for me, which told me everything that I needed to know.
“Can you do this?” he asked as soon as I approached him.
“You are lucky that I don’t kill you for that,” I told him, and I wasn’t lying.
“Kill me or don’t,” he replied like a man that didn’t care about living. “This isn’t about me, Pakhan.”
“I can handle it,” I said as we made our way to Samara’s door. “I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.”
“Kill them both,” he replied, openly doubtful, though not being stupid enough to say the words. “It’s what we’d do with anyone else.”
I looked over at my sovietnik, my best friend, and the person that knew me the best, even over my own blood brothers. “But she isn’t anyone else, is she?”
Maksim’s chin went up. “You’re making a mistake, Pakhan.”
“I know,” I countered smoothly. “Luckily for me, I have the upper hand this time.”
“You will never have the upper hand when it comes to this woman,” he pointed out, and he wasn’t necessarily wrong.
I eyed my friend. “This time, I do.”
Without another word, I turned the doorknob, then walked into Samara’s home, and as I made my way inside, I saw Samara and her sister huddled together on the couch, Alexei and Ivan comfortably sitting in the extra chairs in the living room.
With Maksim going over to stand behind the women, I took a seat on the coffee table, and it took everything in me not to take my time appreciating just how beautiful Samara had grown up to be. Even with her face pale, her eyes rimmed with worry, and her body trembling, she was fucking stunning.
Ignoring Samara Andreev, I directed my gaze towards her younger sister that looked nothing like her. Masha had taken after their father, whereas Samara had taken after their mother. “Masha, it’s been a long time.”
Masha’s dark eyes looked over at me, and the girl looked terrified, though she was hardly a girl at the age of thirty. “Avgust,” she greeted quietly.
“So, I am told that you took a wrong turn,” I remarked.
