Page 131 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

“I made myself the person who never got to fall apart,” I say, and my voice shakes against her shoulder. “Dmitri threatens that.”

Kathryn’s mouth softens. “Because you love him.”

My laugh comes out small and awful. “Because he makes me want to lean.”

She shifts back, still holding my arms, and looks into my face. “Cara.”

“The last time I leaned into him, I woke up alone,” I say, meeting her eyes now. “I know more than I knew then. The fire killed his parents while he was in Boston with me. My head understands the past was messier and less simple than I made it.”

Kathryn waits.

“My body doesn’t,” I say, touching my stomach. “It remembers the empty bed. I was pregnant, and he wasn’t there.”

Both hands cover my face before I can stop them. “What am I supposed to do, Kath? Loving him feels dangerous. It makes me want things. It makes me less careful.”

Kathryn pulls me closer.

I inhale against her shoulder and force the rest out. “Some part of me is always waiting for the next crisis to take him away again.”

“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said all morning,” she says, squeezing me hard.

The words crack something open. I pull back before I cry again and wipe my face with both hands.

Kathryn lets go of me, but she stays close, her hand on my arm.

“I need a minute,” I say.

I stand, smooth my shirt with shaking hands, and cross the room. Kathryn’s bag scrapes the floor when I step around it. I pull the door open and step straight into Dmitri.

His hands catch my waist before I run into his chest. My palms press against his shirt. For a second, I forget what I was going to say. Patrick, Oleg, Kathryn’s bag, the guards outside the door, all of it drops out of reach.

Dmitri looks down at me. Dust marks the edge of his coat, and his shirt is open at the collar. His hands stay on my waist, warm through my clothes, then his fingers loosen like he remembers where we are. Neither of us speaks. My cheeks burn from the argument, and from knowing he heard enough of it. My hands stay on him for one long second.

Then Mikhail bursts out around my legs with both hands raised. “Dmitri!” he says, delighted. “Did you win?”

Dmitri steps back and crouches at once so Mikhail doesn’t have to look up at him. “Not yet,” he says, placing one hand on his knee.

Mikhail frowns. “Why?”

Dmitri looks up at me.

The look is careful enough to hurt. He’s afraid of asking for something I may not give.

Coward.

“Because I need your mom to help me win,” Dmitri says, keeping his voice steady.

Mikhail considers that, then nods as if the plan makes sense.

Dmitri pulls the red car out of his pocket, shows it to him for one second, then puts it right back and taps the pocket once. “I kept it safe.”

I stay right there, caught on his words. He needs me. He trusts me.

Mikhail looks from Dmitri to me. “Mama helps well.”

I kneel beside him and smooth his hair back. “I’m going to help from inside the house,” I say, holding his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.”

Kathryn appears behind me, face washed and red from crying. She places one hand on Mikhail’s shoulder and says nothing.