THE GATEKEEPER

Still, I want another taste. I steal another kiss. A deeper one. No tongue, but my lips slant over hers, sealing my promise to help her.

When I break it, she's leaning into me, her skin flushed with color, eyes brightened in contrast.

"Um. Okay." She gives a breathy laugh. "I'll be in your apartment."

I hand her my keycard. "It's 303," I tell her, in case she didn't take note of the apartment number.

"Yep. I'll be there."

"Good." I ignore the stirrings produced by the thought of having her up in my apartment. The sense of pride it produces. Of possessiveness. Like she belongs to me now. Which, obviously, isn't even remotely the case.

Besides, I already know what happens when you get attached to a woman, and then she leaves. I'd be a fool to allow myself any feelings when it comes to my lovely warrior. She's not mine, and she's not staying.

But if I did pick a woman to be mine, it would be one just like her...

Kira

I dump the bagel bag out on Maykl's kitchen counter. I find a small plastic envelope bundled inside the napkins that contains a dozen tiny listening devices. They each have an adhesive backing, making them easy to stick in the locations I choose.

Things could not go more perfectly.

Opening up to Maykl last night was the right move. If I forget about my embarrassing and obvious attempt to seduce him, I played everything else just right. I'm now totally in with Maykl. I can stay in his apartment. He's going to bring me upstairs to see his pakhan.

And on top of that, he seems to want to help me with Anya's funeral arrangements.

Which is...unexpected. And sweet.

A stab of guilt runs through me at my deceit. I'm taking advantage of his kindness.

But the bratva takes advantage of innocents all the time. On a daily basis, I'm sure. I'm sorry because it seems Maykl is one of the few decent ones, but I can't let that stop me from my mission.

The FBI needs intel on the bratva, and in return, they will help me find Mika.

That's all that matters here.

I remove the listening devices from the plastic bag and drop them loose into my pocket, so they are easy to grab. I have the opportunity to scatter them throughout the building now, but not without first disabling the security feed, and I can't do that while Maykl's on duty. Maybe tonight, after he's asleep. But I'll keep them on me, so if I see an opportunity to plant one, I can.

I give Stepanov a call, even though it's late evening in Moscow.

"Did you get the bugs?"

"Yes, sir. I have them, and I should have the opportunity to plant them in the pakhan's office sometime later today."

"Excellent. Good work, Koslova." My supervisor sounds exuberant-almost more enthusiastic with his praise than normal. Maybe he believes impressing the FBI will somehow bring him esteem. "I'm sure with you in that building, they will be able to get all the information they need to bring down the cell. I may fly out myself to facilitate things." I pause to absorb that. "Really, sir?"

"I don't like the idea of you in there without backup. Even if I can't be in the building with you, I'd like to be available for regular reporting."

Something about that sounds wrong. Is he using this as an excuse to work closely with me? Does he still harbor some kind of interest in me that extends beyond my position?

"They are running your nephew's name through the database now. Their databases are more extensive than the Chicago police department. If your nephew is alive, we should be able to find him now."

For the first time since I arrived in this country, a shred of hope blooms in my chest. "Thank you, sir. That's great news."

"Yes. Listen, Koslova. I expect regular check-ins from you, so I know you're safe. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'll check in twice a day."

"Very well. Keep up the good work."

"Thank you, sir."

I end the call and spread cream cheese on a bagel.

They're looking for Mika. Soon, I hope-I would pray if I were the praying type-I'll be reunited with the boy I'd do anything for.

And if I take down one branch of the organization responsible for killing my father, then that's just icing on the cupcake.

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Maykl

Gleb relieves me of my door duties at ten. He's a seventy-year-old bratva brother with failing lungs, but he's hard as nails. No less dangerous than any of us. Perhaps more so because he's old-school. He came to us this year from a cell in New Jersey. He and another bratva brother, Dmitri, work under me as doormen, and I have another half-dozen brigadiers I utilize for building security as needed.

I tell him I'll be away for the afternoon, but he should call my cell or notify those in the penthouse if anything happens.

Then I go upstairs to find Kira. When I come in, she's on her back with her toes tucked under the sofa, doing crunches.

"Don't stop," I say when she immediately stops and rolls to her side. "You look beautiful."

"Doing sit-ups?" she scoffs.

"Da." I nod and push away from the door. "I like your warrior side. Female strength is captivating."

She crawls to her feet. "You're crazy," she mutters, but I note the tinge of pink that crawls up her neck. I suspect she likes to be revered for something other than that perfect face. "Are you ready to go to the funeral home?"

"Uh, yes. But Anya is still at the morgue. I didn't make any arrangements yet."

I nod. "I already contracted with a mortuary. They are on their way to get her now."

She goes still, her lovely chin tilting up. "Thank you." The words are soft with awe like no one has ever been kind to her.

I know how that feels.