Page 146 of Ruthless Creatures

“Good. You’re probably wondering why I’m calling.”

He pauses, waiting for me to say something, but my lungs are frozen. All of me is frozen in pure, cold terror. Except my heart, which is now beating frantically like a hummingbird’s wings.

He continues in a calm, conversational tone.

“To be honest,dorogoya,when I first discovered what was going on, I couldn’t believe it. My own Kazimir, like a son to me these past twenty years, would never disobey me. He would never lie to me. And he definitely wouldn’t betray me. Especially for a woman.”

Disobey? Betray? What the hell is he talking about?

“But all those unexplained trips to the West Coast made me curious, so I sent a little birdie to have a look. When I saw your picture, it made slightly more sense. So pretty. All that black hair.”

The footsteps in the snow. That night I thought someone was outsidemy kitchen window. All the times I felt like someone was watching me—it was him.

“You look so much like your mother. How is Naomi, by the way? Enjoying golf course living? Personally, I could never live in Arizona. It’s so dry. All those ugly cactus plants. But I suppose Scottsdale is good for your father’s health.”

He knows all about my parents. Is he threatening them? Oh god oh god oh god!

I start to hyperventilate. I’m going to be sick. The steak I ate will come up any second and I’ll puke it all over the kitchen floor.

Gripping the phone hard, I say in a shaking voice, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but my parents have nothing to do with anything. Please—”

“Of course they do. They gave you life. You, the woman who turned Kazimir against me. They’re complicit. They’ll pay, just as you will.”

“I didn’t turn him against you! I don’t know what you mean! Please,listen to me—”

“It will be cold comfort,dorogoya,but you may be interested to know that Kazimir has never been serious about a woman before. They were always disposable to him. Forgettable. Until you. I hope you were worth it.”

He chuckles. It’s an awful sound, like sandpaper scraping wood.

Hopefully that unhealthy rattle in his lungs is cancer.

My voice high and desperate, I demand, “Where is Kage? What have you done with him?”

“Nothing yet. But if my timing is right, he’ll arrive soon, to find you dead. On your birthday, no less. How tragic. I wish I could be there to see his reaction, but Viktor will tell me.”

On the verge of hysteria, I shout, “Who’s Viktor?”

“I am.”

I spin around to see a man standing in the middle of my kitchen, smiling at me.

He’s tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a black suit with a black wool overcoat and black leather gloves. His hair is gunmetal gray, shaved close to his head. His eyes are the clearest blue I’ve ever seen.

The gun he’s pointing at me is enormous.

Over the line, Maxim says, “He’s very good at what he does. Almost as good as Kazimir. If you cooperate with him, it will be much better for you. It will go quicker.”

His voice lowers. “And believe me when I tell you that you don’t want him to go slow.”

I drop the receiver. It bangs against the wall, twirling madly on its curly line.

Smiling pleasantly, Viktor gestures to one of the kitchen chairs. “Sit down. Let’s have a chat.”

I’ve never been so terrified in my life. It’s not only the gun pointed at me, or the phone call I just received, or the obvious fact that the head of the Russian mafia has put out hits on me and Kage both.

It’s also the smile on Viktor’s face.

That warm, eager smile, like he’s about to engage in one of his favorite hobbies.