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“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you. You should sit and eat.”
She scoffed and waved me off but finally eased into her chair. “My name is Bohdana Melnyk. ‘Ma’am’ is old.” Her wrinkly face twisted as she shuddered.
I blinked before cracking a smile. She had to have been at least eighty, but who was I to argue? “Nice to meet you Mrs. Melnyk. My name is Roan. Roan Sinclair.”
“Do you want more, Roan?” She was out of her chair again and back in the fridge, pulling out another sour cream container with a red liquid sloshing inside. “I have borscht.”
“I...” I sighed, seeing absolutely no point in arguing. Ukrainians and Russians may have had issues with each other, but the two representatives of their respective cultures were just as bullheaded as the other one. No wonder they didn’t get along. “I’d love some,” I said with a smile.
36
Sasha
“More tea?”The girl appeared once again, smiling brightly and holding up a carafe of hot water.
Nodding, I shoved my mug in her direction. She filled it to the top, glancing at me more than the mug. I envisioned second degree burns on my lap; I was pretty sure she was envisioning my lap, too, and how she could get on it.
“I’ll get you another scone,” she announced with a wink, sauntering away.
Rolling my eyes, I scooped a spoonful of something claiming to be triple berry jam into the cup before dunking another tea bag inside.
There was still plenty of time before Roan was supposed to be at the coffee shop, but my stomach twisted with every minute that passed. I needed a cigarette, or two, but this fucking country and their no-smoking policies made it such a hassle.
My cell phone rang and I snatched it off the table.
It was Eduard. “What are you doing?”
“Just grabbing a tea,” I replied in Russian, stirring the tea and jam again. In lieu of a cigarette, it was the next best thing to keep my hand busy.
“Oh, where? I’ll meet you.”
The server returned with a scone, brushing against my thigh as she set it on the table. “Let me know if you need anything,” she murmured, touching my shoulder.
I leaned away from her, not even bothering to respond. “I’ve already left. Sorry.” I ducked my face, hoping he couldn’t hear the noise of the coffee shop behind me. “Why are you calling?”
“Viktor wants an update. What should I tell him?”
“Whatdidyou tell him?”
“That we’re working on it. He should have his shit soon.”
“You don’t think he believed you?”
“Does Viktor believe anyone?”
Good point. “I should have something soon. Ok?”
“Do you need me for anything?” Eduard asked. While he might have been privy to the fact Roan somehow escaped, he didn’t know I’d continued to see him or that he was helping in any capacity. As far as Eduard knew, I devised another plan to get the emeralds. Friend that he was, he helped me dismember and transport Roan’s body double and didn’t ask any questions. He fed Viktor whatever I wanted him to and made sure to keep Yuri from poking around in our business as much as possible.
“Nyet,” I answered Eduard distractedly, scanning the faces of the people walking by the storefront.
“I have a lead on our rat problem. We should meet for dinner and discuss it.”
The bells above the door chimed. Roan stepped in, pausing inside the threshold. He glanced around before spotting me near the window. I didn’t get a smile like before. I barely got any sort of acknowledgement. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked over, almost reluctantly, and slid into the opposite chair with a chilly expression.
“Call you later,” I said quickly.
Hanging up, I set the phone on the table, trying to decipher Roan’s non-verbal cues. As someone who was thrust into this country as a child, unable to speak the language for three years, I had no choice but to learn how to read people. It was the only way I survived. And everything about Roan’s stiff posture told me he was pissed. “What’s wrong?”
