But my thoughts are regressing. We were talking about her not needing a doctor. I was thinking about her frequent lack of appetite. That photo did pop up in my mind, but it wasn’t what spoiled her appetite. Yes, the sight of the ugly bastard’s mashed-up face wasn’t pretty, but she’s used to seeing that, and worse. There’s something else, something more she’s hiding from me.
I never thought I’d need her trust, but I do. I want it like I want her body. I want everything. I can’t stand the thought of her keeping anything from me. She wants me. She’s wanted me from the start. Baring her body to me has never been an issue. It’s baring her heart that’s the problem.
The more I think about what she’s withholding, the more I lose my own appetite. The silence stretches. I’ve never wanted her to talk as badly as I do now, but I don’t know how to breach this quiet standoff.
When our meal arrives, we both push the food around on our plates. This is unfamiliar terrain. I know how to make a woman’s body sing, how to make her scream, but I’ve never tried to coax one into talking. Fuck, I’ve never had the urge to listen to any woman before. As much as I hate to admit it, this is where Ilya is better skilled. He’d know how to do it, but I can’t fucking ask him for help knowing he still wants to get into Mina’s pants.
By the time I get the bill, I’m so wound up with frustration and so torn up about how to handle the situation, I feel like a zip line stretched between two trees. Mina doesn’t speak to me in the car. She doesn’t talk in the shower or when I fuck her six ways from Sunday in bed. She moans and gasps and makes all the right sounds, but how I’m making her body feel is no longer all I want to know. I don’t know when exactly it happened.
I only know it’s no longer enough.
26
Yan
Long after Mina has fallen asleep, I’m still lying awake in the dark, beating myself up about how the evening turned out. There’s only one remedy for getting rid of pent-up frustration. I have to take it out on someone else.
Another photo waited on my phone when we got back after dinner, the men I’ve hired carrying out their job promptly.
Two down, nine to go.
I sneak out of our room and close the door so I won’t disturb Mina. Then I wake Anton quietly. Ilya’s snores remain steady as Anton grabs his pants and follows me into the lounge.
“What’s up?” he asks, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair.
“We’re going to Hungary.”
He gives me a disgruntled look. “Again?”
“You’re flying.”
I pull on my jacket and head for the door. Anton curses softly, jumping around to fit his pants. He takes his trench coat from the back of the sofa and dons it over the T-shirt he’d been sleeping in.
“Hurry.” I want to be back before Mina or Ilya wake up in the morning. Once we’re on the landing and the door is locked behind us, I ask, “How fast can you get our plane ready?”
“It’s already on standby at the private airfield.”
I head for the stairs. “Let’s go.”
“What’s going on?” he asks, running to catch up.
Pulling up the collar of my jacket against the cool bite in the night air, I check the message on my phone as I walk down the street to where the rental is parked. The men I hired are being clear about why they’re beating up the scum who served with Mina, and the two who’ve been beaten would’ve called their cronies to let them know what’s happening. That’s good. I want them to know what’s coming. Even if they go into hiding, I’ll sniff them out.
Not one of them will escape his punishment.
Since Mina was part of the Special Forces when she filed her complaint, her case was handled by court-martial. Her ranking officer, Major General Rafael Tóth, should’ve protected her. Instead, he claimed what happened was her own fault. I read the report he submitted. I read the half-assed excuses of the men who teamed up against an unarmed woman. I read the military attorney’s sad attempt at defense. Now I have a few questions of my own for the asshole who testified against Mina.
Nine to go. Ten if I count Tóth.
These days, he’s an advisor to some minor idiot for Veteran Welfare at the Ministry of Defense.
“Yan,” Anton says as we reach the car. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I have someone to interrogate.”
“With regards to Dimitrov?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“Something else.”
He shifts into the passenger seat when I unlock the doors. “Are you going to tell me?”
“No.”
“Mudak,” he mutters as I start the engine.
* * *
In less than an hour, we land at a small airfield just outside the eastern border of Budapest. Anton’s control tower connection helped to get the takeoff and landing permissions in record time.
The driver I requested before takeoff is waiting next to a car. I’ve worked with him before. He’s reliable and discreet. Once Anton and I are settled in the back and I’ve given our chauffer the address, he raises the partition to allow us privacy.
I pull up the blueprint of the house on my phone as we pull off.
Anton glances at the screen. “I don’t want to meddle in your private war, but that address will come with good security.”
“Good, but not top notch.”
“What aren’t you telling us?”
“Us?”
“Me. Ilya.”
“I didn’t know this was me against you.”
His dark eyes harden. “It’s Mina, isn’t it?”
“Do not fucking say her name.”
“There you go again.” He shakes his head. “You’ve beaten up your own brother over this woman. How far are you going to let this go?”
“Let what go?”
“You’re letting her manipulate you.”
“Shut your mouth. You have no idea who’s manipulating who.”
“Do you?”
“Anton, I’m fucking warning you.”
“Fine.” He huffs. “Don’t say
