Page 142 of Mile High Ruin

“You just got here.”

“I remembered something.” He takes his coffee with him and leaves so quickly that I watch him for several seconds. Skittish is the only word for it.

I file that away.

Later, I find Anya in the garden again. This time, she’s sitting beneath one of the trees with Boris the rabbit beside her and several colored pencils spread around a sketchbook.

She looks up when I approach. “You came back.”

“I live here now, apparently.”

She doesn’t understand the sarcasm, which is probably healthy.

“I drew Boris.” She holds up the picture.

It’s mostly yellow, despite Boris being brown.

“He looks excellent.”

“He’s a king.”

“That explains the crown.”

She moves over on the bench without asking whether I want to sit.

I do.

For the next twenty minutes, Anya tells me everything important in her life, including which cook gives her extra chocolate, which security guard is afraid of frogs, and why one of Vadim’s dogs isn’t allowed inside the house anymore.

I find myself relaxing despite everything. There’s something reassuring about how completely normal Anya is. She doesn’t know that men were shooting at her uncle several days ago. She doesn’t care what the Chernovar Bratva controls or who Viktor Petrov is. Her greatest current problem is that Boris needs a new ear and nobody will let her use the sewing machine alone.

“Uncle Vadim can fix it,” she says.

“Can he sew?”

She thinks about that. “No.”

“Then perhaps we should find someone else.”

“He can make people do things.”

That makes me laugh. “Yes. I have noticed.”

Anya grins.

Then a voice cuts across the garden. “Anya.”

I recognize Nadia immediately. She’s walking toward us from the terrace, and the expression on her face makes it very clear that she is not pleased to find me sitting beside her daughter.

Anya’s smile fades. “Mama.”

“I told you not to wander off.”

“I didn’t.”

“You were supposed to stay near the terrace.”

“I’m in the garden.”