Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I went back to the staircase and climbed all the way up to the top floor, trailing my hand along the thick, wooden banister. I found Melina changing the sheets in one of the bedrooms. “Need a hand?” I asked from the doorway.
She stopped and stared: apparently, she wasn’t used to being asked that. Then she shook her head politely. “No, thank you. It’s my job.” And she carried on, tucking corners with ruthless precision.
Further down the hall, I stopped when I glimpsed a pair of legs through a window. A wooden door with an ornate brass handle led out onto a long stone balcony that stretched along the back of the house, looking out over the gardens. And from that balcony, a narrow stone staircase led up. The legs I’d seen were climbing up the stairs. But what’s up there? This is the top floor!
I opened the door and went out onto the balcony, blinking in the sunlight. I was just in time to see the legs at the top of the staircase before they turned a corner and disappeared from view. There must be some sort of roof terrace up there. But at least I knew who it was: I’d caught a glimpse of a long coat. Valentin.
Back inside, I followed the staircase down to the first floor...and heard a dog yowling as if in pain. I froze...and heard another one howl, this time in absolute agony. I raced down the hallway...and pulled up short in the doorway.
The room was big, with black and white tiles that were very old, but scrupulously clean. An old-fashioned tin bath sat in the middle of the room, full of soapy water. It was surrounded by Mikhail’s four huge Malamutes, barking and howling and in various states of being washed. And in the middle of it all, kneeling next to the tub and stripped to the waist, was Mikhail himself, issuing orders in Russian and being ignored. As I watched, one dog excitedly jumped into the tub, jumped out dripping wet, and yowled plaintively. The other three decided this was a good idea and joined in, throwing back their heads and group-yowling. Bathtime was either the worst torture imaginable or the most fun ever: they weren’t sure. Mikhail shook his head and sighed, then laughed.
“Want a hand?” I asked. I’m not good at sitting idle.
Mikhail twisted around to look at me. “You’ll get wet,” he warned.
I pulled off my sweater and put it down on a chair, leaving me in a tank top. Then I knelt next to Mikhail. He was an intimidating sight, up close. He might have been a little older than the others, but his back and arms rippled with muscle, and he was still lean. One of the dogs bounded up to me and nuzzled my ear, and I shrieked and giggled.
With two of us, it was a little easier to corral the dogs one by one into the tub, shampoo their fur, and then rinse them. But only a little. There was a lot of dramatic howling, splashing, and dogs bounding after bits of foam that floated through the air.
We worked in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then, “I saw Valentin just now,” I said. “Heading up to the roof.”
Mikhail nodded. “That’s his...what is it you call it? His happy place.” His Russian accent was warmly comforting. “He spends all his time up high: balconies, fire escapes, rooftops. Watching his targets. Like an... evil Batman.” He laughed.
I nodded, and we shampooed and rinsed for another few minutes. Then, “I wasn’t ready for Gennadiy to just...kill that guy,” I blurted.
Mikhail nodded, suddenly somber. “You come from a world where even criminals have rights. Our world is brutal, and it can be cold.” He scratched a wet dog behind both ears at once, and it panted in joy. “But if someone hurts someone we love, there are no courts, or rights, or plea bargains. That person is dead. Gennadiy will kill anyone who harms you. As would Radimir, for Bronwyn.”
I nodded slowly, thinking. I wasn’t sure I liked it, but, at the same time, there was something about it that felt warm, like Gennadiy was wrapping me up in his arms. I used a jug to pour clean water over a dog’s back, rinsing away the suds. “Gennadiy’s getting worse, isn’t he? More ruthless, more violent? We noticed it even at the FBI.”
Mikhail’s jaw tightened. “He’s angry. He’s been angry for a long time.” He seemed to be about to say something else, but closed his mouth and ruffled a dog’s coat instead, making the shampoo foam.
My cop instincts kicked in. I thought back to what Gennadiy had said when he saw my leg for the first time. “Once, he sort of implied something happened to him. Something that made him all twisted up inside. Is that true?”