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“I hope you stick to your end of the agreement, Romanov,” Gavriil barks before he starts to pull me away.
Irina told me never to let Ruslan Dragunov find out about the baby. Now Konstantin knows. And if he tells Ruslan…
“Do you have it with you?” Konstantin asks, stopping us from leaving, his eyes on me. “The photo and certificate?”
I shake my head. “No, sorry.”
“Can you send me pictures?”
“I…” but before I can finish, Gavriil steps forward.
“That’s all we know. And we don’t have them with us in Russia.” He starts to guide me around Konstantin. “Now if you’ll excuse us…”
As I pass him, I brush against him. He turns and smiles.
“Take care of yourself, Tara,” Konstantin says and salutes. “Till we meet again.”
Gavriil yanks me away.
“How does he know my name?” I wonder aloud.
“It’s not surprising,” Gavriil tells me. “And he probably knows a lot more about you than most people do.”
“Wonderful!”
Back at the mansion, I call Irina the moment we walk in.
“How did it go at the hospital?” Irina asks.
“Another fucking dead end,” I say, feeling frustrated. I tell her about the special forces and the sonogram. “We bumped into Konstantin Romanov on the way out.”
“What the fuck was he doing there?” Irina hisses.
“Gavriil thinks he’s been following me,” I reply.
“Yes, on my frucking control freak brother’s orders,” Irina hisses.
“Irina, he knows about the baby.” I pause. “He thinks it’s mine and Gavriil's.”
“Shit.” There’s a pause. “He’ll call Ruslan—that’s a guarantee.”
“Gavriil said he was going to call Ruslan and sort it out,” I tell her. “Get on top of it before Konstantin has a chance to tell your brother.”
“No,” Irina says quickly. “Don’t. Get out of Moscow before Ruslan knocks on your door. I need to think. This might be a good thing.”
“Okay.” I nod even though I know she can’t see me.
We hang up as Gavriil walks in, jaw tight.
“That was my contact,” he says. “When he pulled the file on Lidiya Zorin, RMSAD showed up within a couple of minutes. They are this black ops, special project team.”
“Why on earth would they do that?” My brow furrows. “Is that normal?”
“No.” Gavriil shakes his head. “But I’m beginning to think that there is a whole lot more to the story of Lidiya Zorin than justyour father bringing you to America if she does turn out to be you.”
“I have come to that same conclusion.”
“My contact said he’ll be able to help us tonight and must be at the hospital at eight,” Gavriil tells me.