Page 76

Abby

D imitry is still up on the top deck. I know he won’t relax until he knows every man is safe.

And I need a minute.

I stand under the hot jets of the shower in our suite, feeling the odd jolt of shifting from one life to another.

I’m not sure when the permanence of Jacey’s death will truly seep into my nervous system.

I still feel edgy, uncertain, as if at any point I might discover his death was a lie and that he’s still out there, stalking me with malevolent intent.

Jacey.

Jacob.

Yakov.

I wonder if life does this on purpose, twines our threads with others who share our past in some way.

My father is in the salon with Pavel and the others, already several drinks in. There’ll be time enough for us to talk later, when we’re out of here. I know he needed to be here, to know I was safe. For now, that is enough for us both.

I dress in a sarong I find in the closet.

I don’t want to face the raucous party I can hear going on in the main salon, but I do want a drink, so I slip out of the suite and pad quietly down to the dark lower deck to help myself.

I’ve just poured an indecently large gin when Roman’s voice comes out of the darkness, startling me so much I almost drop my glass.

“How are you feeling, Abby?”

“Oh!” My hand flies to my chest, where my heart is pounding frantically.

“Sorry.” Roman peels off from where he’s leaning over the railing and comes toward me, smiling ruefully in the dim light. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” I tentatively return his smile. “It might be a while before I stop jumping at every strange movement, I’m afraid.”

He nods, his smile fading. “That place.” His mouth tightens. “Christ, Abby. I had no idea. Just the scale of it. And the condition some of those girls were in...” His voice trails off, and when he refills his glass, I notice his hand isn’t quite steady.

“Yeah, it was a treat, alright.” I revert to the jocular tone I usually take with Roman. It’s the way we’ve always communicated, he and I. We joke, or we bait one another with acid little barbs. Very occasionally, we exchange a genuine smile or nice remark.

Usually, we just default to politely ignoring each other.

But for once, Roman’s face doesn’t harden into the slightly contemptuous mask I’m accustomed to. “I owe you an apology,” he says abruptly.

I’m shocked into silence, not only by the unexpected apology, but also the sober tone in which it’s delivered.

“Christ.” He rubs his face uncomfortably.

“I probably owe you a dozen of the fucking things, but one is going to have to do for now.” He faces me squarely.

“I should have listened to Darya from the start, when she told me something had happened to you. And a long time before that, I should have done more to find out what you were so afraid of.” He grimaces.

“If there’s anyone who knows what it’s like to be on the run, it’s me.

” He holds my eyes. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me, Abby.

Like you had to run. And I’m more sorry than I can ever say that you ended up in that goddamn hellhole. ”

It’s a minute before I can find my voice. “I think that was three apologies,” I say shakily. “Maybe more, even. You always did know how to go overboard, CEO Man.”

Roman smiles wryly at my old nickname for him. “Take the apologies while you can. Darya and Dimitry will both tell you they’re not my forte.” His smile fades. “But when I’m wrong, Abby, I say I’m wrong. And I was wrong about you, right from the start.”

I laugh quietly. “Oh, not so wrong, really.” I lean over the railing, turning my glass between my hands and staring out at the lights gleaming off the water. “I should have been honest a long time ago,” I say slowly. “Especially with Dimitry.”

“But you were afraid you’d put him in danger.” He joins me at the railing, giving me a sideways glance.

I nod.

“No wonder you and Darya are such good friends.” His shoulders lift with silent laughter. “Talk about peas in a pod.” He glances at me again. “I bet Dimitry took that well, when you told him?”

It’s my turn to laugh. “Yeah. Not so well at all.”

This time, we both laugh a little, then fall into a silence that feels almost companionable. From above us I hear a soft giggle, and I frown, listening. Is that Yrsa? Actually laughing ?

“Your friend Mary has already left.” Roman answers my question before I can ask.

“Zinaida’s team in Thailand can help repatriate her to the Philippines better than we can, and she was anxious to go home.

She left on a helicopter an hour ago. She asked me to thank you, and to say she will contact you as soon as she’s back with her family. ”

I swallow hard on unexpected tears. I know this won’t be over for Mary until she’s holding her daughter again. I’m glad she’s on her way home, even if I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.

“To my complete astonishment,” he goes on dryly, “your other friends, the programmer and the Danish girl, seem to have Mickey and Pavel on some kind of fucking godlike pedestal.” Roman rolls his eyes, and I give a snort of laughter.

“It’s going to take me a while to adjust to Pavel’s new role as a fucking action hero, let me tell you,” he says.

“Right now, your friends are in there with awestruck faces, telling the entire crew of very hard men who just blew shit up how it was actually Mickey and Pavel who saved them with their keyboard warrior skills and Pavel’s auctioneer display.

” He shakes his head. “That Yrsa girl keeps calling Mickey Otis , which he’s loving, and by the way they’re looking at each other, there’s a very good chance I’m going to need to invest in condoms at the next fucking port. ”

I can’t help it; I explode into laughter so hard my drink almost comes out of my nose. Roman grins sideways at me, and suddenly we’re off and running, talking more than we ever have.

He tells me about Aleksander and his sleepless nights; I tell him about Leetham and the abandoned mining camp and how I wound up in Thailand.

We talk until our drinks are finished, and Roman turns back to the bar to pour us both another one. “What about after all of this?” He asks the question with his back turned, so I can’t see his face. “Where—what do you think you’d like to do now?”

I smile to myself. Despite his careful phrasing of the question, I know what he’s really asking.

“I don’t think I can live back in Australia.

” I take the glass he offers, staring out over the water.

“I needed to go there, to visit. But it’s not my life anymore.

Maybe it never was, really.” I take a sip.

“I know that I still want to paint,” I say slowly.

“And I want to be close to Darya. To all of you.” I smile at him and turn back to the water.

“I don’t really know what Dimitry wants.

Not yet. We haven’t had a chance to talk about it. ”

Roman nods. “Well, I know he wants to be with you.” He turns to face me. “And for my part, Abby, I can promise you this much: whatever Dimitry chooses from here, it will be his decision. Not mine.” He holds my eyes so I can see the sincerity in his.

“Thank you, Roman,” I say quietly. “That means a lot.”

We stand in silence for a while, then he hits the railing decisively with one hand. “Well. I’d better go and wrangle the infants upstairs into some semblance of order, or Darya will have my hide for breakfast.” He puts one large hand on my shoulder. “Take care, Abs. I’m glad you’re safe.”

I cover his hand briefly with my own. “Thanks, Roman. For everything.”

“Yup.” He nods, and then he’s gone.

I stand outside for a time, just inhaling the air and the nighttime peace.