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“What do you really want to know?” I squinted at him.
“There isn’t anything more to their disappearance, is there?” Sergei fixed me with an icy stare, trying to discern as much from my face as from my words.
My spine stiffened but I made sure my expression remained devoid of any feeling. “What more could there be? They’re gone. Once Sasha fully recovered, they disappeared to some place where no one will find them. If, by some miracle, youdolocate Sasha, it will only end in bloodshed.”
“Dimitri is convinced you’re lying. You claim to know nothing but seem certain Dimitri won’t succeed in retrieving him. Who do I believe?”
“How far would you go to protect the love of your life? How many people would you kill?” I cocked my head at him. Despite his dislike of homosexuality, Sergei wasn’t entirely heartless. He’d been in love once upon a time; he knew what a powerful motivator it could be.
“How many would you?” Sergei arched a brow in return.
I didn’t hesitate to answer. “There’s no limit to the things I would do.”
Sergei chuckled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He lifted his glass toward me nevertheless. “Good luck to the woman who claims your heart.”
I managed to suppress a snort and quickly changed the topic. “There’s been some progress with the other matter. I’ll let you know when I have something.” With Dimitri creeping closer to the table again, I gave Sergei a farewell nod and headed outside.
Marek was waiting on the sidewalk, partially obscured by a cloud of damn cigarette smoke.
“That was awkward as fuck,” he said, glancing back at the banya. “Who’s Sasha? Was she the manager who got whacked?”
“He,” I corrected, “used to work for me. He left several months ago to pursue other opportunities. And who told you the last manager was killed?”
“Uh, everyone? Pretty sure Hayden’s hoping the same thing happens to me,” he muttered, bringing the cigarette to his lips again. “Hey!”
I plucked it out of his hand and threw it on the ground, crushing it under my heel. “I told you, they’re bad for you.”
“Do you have any idea how expensive cigarettes are? That’s, like, at least a dollar you just wasted.”
“Even more reason to quit smoking.”
He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Right. I’ll go cold turkey after, like, a decade. That’ll be fun for everyone in a twenty-foot radius of me. Next, you’re going to tell me alcohol is bad for me. Newsflash! I’ve already heard it.”
“You can do whatever you set your mind to, including quitting that.” I gestured toward the ruined cigarette.
He made a face, popping a couple of mints in his mouth. “Listen, when there’s no food in the house, it’s the next best thing. At least it makes you forget about the hunger pangs for a little bit. Now it’s a habit.” He shrugged, like his previous statement was the most normal thing in the world. To him, maybe it was. It didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“Speaking of food, we didn’t even order,” I reminded him, promptly spinning the conversation away from any potentially upsetting conversations about his childhood. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Alright, then let’s go.” I stepped past him and started for the car. As we walked, I fished my wallet out of my back pocket and held a dollar out to him. “For wasting your cigarette.”
He laughed and shoved my hand back to me. “Keep your fucking dollar.”
“How about this, then?” I swapped the dollar for a hundred and tried again. “For the rest of the pack.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. It means that much to you?”
“It does.”
Heaving a sigh, he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the pack. Holding it up for me to see, he crushed it and tossed it into the next trashcan. “Happy?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t know it from looking at you. You gave me shit about how I say thank you but you hardly ever smile in public.”
“Smiling at strangers is something Americans do.”
