Page 23 of Blood & Snow

"The children you mentioned," I continue.

"Tell me about them."

"Anya is eight, brilliant with mathematics and determined to become a doctor. Mikhail is six, obsessed with fairy tales and convinced he'll grow up to slay dragons."

Her voice softens when she talks about them.

"They still believe the world rewards good people and punishes evil ones."

"Innocent assumptions."

"Childhood should enjoy innocence for as long as possible."

She looks up from her work again.

"They've lost enough already."

The protective instinct in her voice confirms what I suspected.

Threaten those children, and Nadya will comply with any demand to keep them safe.

The knowledge provides excellent insurance against betrayal or rebellion, and perhaps other leverage too—if it comes to that.

Five hours after beginning, she finishes the cleanup completely.

My men have dragged off the corpses for disposal in the river, and the warehouse looks exactly as it did before the Brotherhood's soldiers arrived for their final transaction.

"Acceptable work," I tell her while inspecting the results.

Relief floods her face at the evaluation.

She strips off the latex gloves and gathers her remaining supplies, exhaustion finally showing after hours of intensive work under extreme stress.

I hand her another thick stack of rubles, and she takes the money without counting it, trusting that I'll honor our arrangement as long as she honors hers.

"When will you call again?" she asks.

"When I need you."

And I watch her face contort in anguish.

For a split second, I wish I had a time and day, simply to make that fleeting discomfort vanish from her face.

But I can't always know when the next job will happen.

"What am I supposed to tell my sister, then? I have to have regular hours or she'll suspect. She's not a stupid woman, Xander."

The way Nadya says my name makes my blood pump harder.

I picture her lips forming those letters as I drive into her and find myself reaching for her, brushinga single strand of hair away from her eyes with only the tip of my pinky.

"I could have a job for you every night if you want," I growl, making my insinuation very obvious to her.

I follow that growl with a devilish smirk and watch as color stains her cheeks and her lips flush a dark red.

"I have to go," she snips and pulls away from me.

"Are you sure you don't want regular hours? They don't pay as well, but I could spare some pocket change."