THE GATEKEEPER

I clasp my trembling hands together. "Because it's my fault they got in. I caused this problem for you, and I want to fix it."

"You are working with the real FBI now, perhaps?"

Of course, he mistrusts me. What reason have I given for them to take my word?

I shake my head. "No. I'm...I'm with you. I mean-" Gospodi, what do I mean? I swallow and try to swallow the lump in my throat. "My loyalties are here with-" "With whom?"

"With Maykl." My eyes fill with tears. "Where is he? Did you... is he safe?"

Ravil appears satisfied. "He is safe," he assures me.

He tips his head at Maxim. "Bring him in."

I stand from my chair, my breath caught up in my throat. A moment later, Maxim returns with Maykl. I run to him as if our one night apart had been a million years.

It felt even longer. I now know what it would be like to live without him, and I know I never want that.

I don't want to go back to Russia. I don't want to return to my old, hollow life. I don't care about any of it.

All I know is that Maykl somehow repaired the things in me that were broken. And yes, he was responsible for one of those wounds, but I know he'd do anything he could to make it up to me. And, ultimately, as much as I love my dad, he caused his own demise. And he sold Anya.

I fly into Maykl, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me tight.

"Moya malen'kaya Valkiriya," he murmurs.

"Fix things with her," Ravil says to Maykl. "Then we move on Stepanov. Go."

Maykl

I can't believe it. Kira is here. In my arms.

She still wants me.

I bustle her out of the penthouse, in a hurry to get her somewhere private. I opt for the stairs to the roof, since she's wearing her red coat. Taking her hand, I lead her up to the roof's edge where I cradle her face in my hands. "I'm sorry, Kira. I'm sorry I was the one. I wish it was different. I wish I knew how to make it up to you."

She holds my wrists. "I'm okay. I...I can't even say I'm sorry it happened. Because if you hadn't been the one, you never would've been in the bratva, and then...someone else would've been guarding that door the night arrived." My eyes burn.

"Sweet Valkiriya. We would have met. If not here, there. Somehow. We were destined for each other."

"Yes." Her laugh is watery. "Yes, we would have met."

"So..." I don't know how to ask this. "Are you...Will you stay? I want you, Kira. I don't want to let you go home. Or leave this building. Or my life. Please... tell me you'll stay."

She nods. "I'm staying. I have nothing to go back to. Mika is here in the States. My job was bogus. My boss is a criminal. My life was empty before I met you. That's a fact."

I kiss her, claiming her soft lips. She moves them against mine with a whimper. I catch the back of her head to hold her in place, deepen the kiss. We slow dance as we kiss, rocking from foot to foot, slowly circling each other as we come apart and go back in, each time a different tempo. Soft and meaningful, then intense with passion, then a slow savoring.

"I love you." She says it first, and it feels like my life both ends and begins at once. Like if I dived from this building, I could fly.

"I love you, little warrior."

She lifts those ice-blue eyes, and they crinkle at the corners.

"How was your nephew?"

She smiles and nods. "He's good. All grown up. He seems happy with Vlad and Alessia. Really happy. It's a much better life than Anya could have given him. I can't forgive her for abandoning him, but maybe it worked out for the best." "Like us," I say softly.

"Yes." She wraps her arms around my middle. Like us." Then she propels me toward the door. "Come on. You don't have a jacket, and it's cold out here."

"Yes. And Ravil is waiting for us."

Kira

Maykl hates the idea of me being bait, but I can take care of myself. I have a gun strapped to my leg. According to Dima, the Chicago Bratva's hacker, Stepanov has not left the country. His phone seems to have been destroyed, though. I called the office line at work and left him a message, saying I needed help getting home because my passport and things were still at the Kremlin.

Stepanov called back and asked where I was. I told him I was staying at the flophouse where my sister's body had been found.

It seemed like something he might believe, and I sort of enjoyed the full circle of returning to the place where it all began in Chicago.

I wait now on the broken steps to the graffitied house.

A black town car pulls up. The doors don't open. No one gets out. Which means the bratva members hiding in the building to shoot, won't be able to.

I get up and walk to it, pulling open the door.

I sense Maykl's silent protest from behind the boarded-up windows of the flophouse. The Chicago bratva are waiting there, hoping to make clean kills here in a neighborhood where no one talks about criminal activities.

It's all right, though. I'm strapped with a weapon, wired for audio, and have a half-dozen trackers on me. I know Maykl and his brothers will be right behind us.

I climb into the backseat of the car, which takes off driving before I've even shut the door. "Thank you for coming to get me."

Stepanov is in the backseat. He pats me down for a weapon but misses the gun in my boot.