you should pack her up and send her home anyway. This infatuation of yours is ridiculous and can go nowhere.”
“What are you talking about?” Anatoly did not appreciate being told what to think or do. “I have fun with Trisha.”
“Yes, but what future do you see for your relationship with her?” Yakov perched on the edge of the couch beside him. “You are king of the mafia in Moscow. Nobody would dare dispute that to your face. But the truth is that we need the Sokolovs.”
“Cannon fodder,” Anatoly reminded his lieutenant. “That is all they are.”
“And yet cannon fodder has its purpose. No?”
Anatoly wished there were covers on the couch so he could pull them over his head. “I’m not marrying Bianka Sokolov. The woman is a first class bitch.”
“So stick her in a house in Moscow and never see her again,” Yakov suggested with a dismissive shrug. “Consider it the price of doing business.”
“This is such bullshit,” Anatoly groaned.
“Yes. But it is life.”
TRISHA LET HER breath out very slowly. If people usually maintained that eavesdroppers rarely liked what they heard, she would now agree wholeheartedly that the saying was true. She hadn’t meant to listen in, but she was coming back to see if Yakov could suggest a place where she could get better reception on her phone.
Now she turned and walked out of the kitchen and onto the deck. Once outside, she put her hands on top of her head and tried to find a sense of equilibrium in all of this. She had always known that her situation with Anatoly was temporary. He hadn’t been exactly shy about telling her that.
So maybe she needed to focus on the here and now, which involved convincing her father that she had no interest in returning to Cleveland. Pulling out her phone, she checked the service. It was better here. She had at least three bars. She pulled up her contacts list and pushed the button to call her father’s phone.
He answered on the second ring. “Trisha? Oh my God, is that you?”
“Yes, Dad. It’s me.” The sound of total relief in his voice made her feel more than a little guilty for what she was about to say. “Dad, we need to talk.”
“Talk? Are you all right? The team said they found you, but you didn’t want to leave. What in the hell is going on?” His voice was rising, his words sharper and sharper as he grew more agitated.
“Dad, please calm down. If you start yelling, I’m hanging up.”
“Wait! Okay, I’m calm. I’m calm.”
She actually felt a bit guilty, but still. When her father got to yelling, there was no dealing with him.
Trisha tried to remember what she’d planned to say. “Dad, it’s really important that you stop sending people after me.”
“What? Why?” he shouted into the phone. “You’re being held there against your will by some Russian thug! Of course I’m going to rescue you. My partner Skaggs has a line on another extraction team that works exclusively out of Siberia. We’re going to get you out, pumpkin.”
“Dad. No. That’s what I’m saying. I don’t want to come home.”
There was a long, thick silence on the other end of the line. “Are they holding a gun to your head, Trisha? Is that what this is about?”
“Dad, no!” She was getting so exasperated. “Nobody is forcing me to do anything. I’m talking on my own phone, and there’s not even anyone around. I have privacy when I want it, and I’m on a fabulous vacation in Siberia with a really hot, really great guy. I want this. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
Another long, thick silence, but she felt this one getting angry. How it was possible to feel the steam coming out of her father’s ears from a million miles away was hard to say, but she most certainly did.
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “Dad?”
“I’m sorry, Trisha,” he said slowly. “I’m still trying to process the fact that you would rather play around on vacation with a criminal than
“What are you talking about?” Anatoly did not appreciate being told what to think or do. “I have fun with Trisha.”
“Yes, but what future do you see for your relationship with her?” Yakov perched on the edge of the couch beside him. “You are king of the mafia in Moscow. Nobody would dare dispute that to your face. But the truth is that we need the Sokolovs.”
“Cannon fodder,” Anatoly reminded his lieutenant. “That is all they are.”
“And yet cannon fodder has its purpose. No?”
Anatoly wished there were covers on the couch so he could pull them over his head. “I’m not marrying Bianka Sokolov. The woman is a first class bitch.”
“So stick her in a house in Moscow and never see her again,” Yakov suggested with a dismissive shrug. “Consider it the price of doing business.”
“This is such bullshit,” Anatoly groaned.
“Yes. But it is life.”
TRISHA LET HER breath out very slowly. If people usually maintained that eavesdroppers rarely liked what they heard, she would now agree wholeheartedly that the saying was true. She hadn’t meant to listen in, but she was coming back to see if Yakov could suggest a place where she could get better reception on her phone.
Now she turned and walked out of the kitchen and onto the deck. Once outside, she put her hands on top of her head and tried to find a sense of equilibrium in all of this. She had always known that her situation with Anatoly was temporary. He hadn’t been exactly shy about telling her that.
So maybe she needed to focus on the here and now, which involved convincing her father that she had no interest in returning to Cleveland. Pulling out her phone, she checked the service. It was better here. She had at least three bars. She pulled up her contacts list and pushed the button to call her father’s phone.
He answered on the second ring. “Trisha? Oh my God, is that you?”
“Yes, Dad. It’s me.” The sound of total relief in his voice made her feel more than a little guilty for what she was about to say. “Dad, we need to talk.”
“Talk? Are you all right? The team said they found you, but you didn’t want to leave. What in the hell is going on?” His voice was rising, his words sharper and sharper as he grew more agitated.
“Dad, please calm down. If you start yelling, I’m hanging up.”
“Wait! Okay, I’m calm. I’m calm.”
She actually felt a bit guilty, but still. When her father got to yelling, there was no dealing with him.
Trisha tried to remember what she’d planned to say. “Dad, it’s really important that you stop sending people after me.”
“What? Why?” he shouted into the phone. “You’re being held there against your will by some Russian thug! Of course I’m going to rescue you. My partner Skaggs has a line on another extraction team that works exclusively out of Siberia. We’re going to get you out, pumpkin.”
“Dad. No. That’s what I’m saying. I don’t want to come home.”
There was a long, thick silence on the other end of the line. “Are they holding a gun to your head, Trisha? Is that what this is about?”
“Dad, no!” She was getting so exasperated. “Nobody is forcing me to do anything. I’m talking on my own phone, and there’s not even anyone around. I have privacy when I want it, and I’m on a fabulous vacation in Siberia with a really hot, really great guy. I want this. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
Another long, thick silence, but she felt this one getting angry. How it was possible to feel the steam coming out of her father’s ears from a million miles away was hard to say, but she most certainly did.
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “Dad?”
“I’m sorry, Trisha,” he said slowly. “I’m still trying to process the fact that you would rather play around on vacation with a criminal than
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