“I’m just saying that maybe the girl’s had enough shit in her life.”
“You don’t have a say in this.” I take a step closer to him. “She’s mine. The only say that matters is mine.”
“Fine.” He lifts his hands. “But this is going to blow up in your face. Mark my words.”
“Just find out what you can from her ex-teammate and let me worry about what will blow up in my face.”
“Fine,” he says again. “Send the details to my phone. I’ll go check it out. I assume this guy is close by?”
“In the northern countryside. After dropping us off at the clinic, the driver can take you. Best be well prepared. I’m sure Kiss expects a visit. He’ll be ready, weapons and all. Guards, too.”
Anton flashes his teeth, which would’ve been perfect if not for one slightly crooked canine. “Sounds like my kind of challenge.”
“Let me know what you find out the minute you do. We’ll meet back here at six. I don’t want to get home late. We need a good night’s rest for tomorrow.”
He salutes. “Gotcha.” On the way to the car, he adds, “I can’t wait to cash in the favor you’ll owe me.”
Flipping him off, I get into the backseat next to Mina while Anton retrieves the ammunition we always travel with from the plane. After loading guns and knives in the trunk, he takes the front passenger seat.
“What’s going on?” Mina asks.
I take her hand and kiss each of her dainty fingers. “Nothing.”
She’s quiet until we reach the clinic. She signs in at the gate and stands uneasily until the car pulls away. Interlacing our fingers, I lead her down the path to the entrance. In front of the double doors, she hangs back.
“Yan…”
I can’t resist kissing her soft, sweet lips. “Mina?”
“This isn’t a good idea.”
I narrow my eyes. I want to make this good for her. She better not throw the gesture back in my face. And she better not be ashamed of me, because she’s stuck with me. For life.
Pressing a hand firmly on her back, I usher her inside. My brusque manner has the desired effect. She surrenders, allowing me to push her toward the reception area, but the tenseness of her frame doesn’t ease.
She announces herself at the front desk. The receptionist gives us a friendly welcome and tells us to go through to Hanna’s room.
Mina’s small, slow steps tell me she’s not eager for her grandmother to meet me. Tough luck. I want to meet her grandmother.
We go up a flight of stairs and exit on a landing. Mina stops in front of a door, her back so stiff it looks like her vertebrae may snap. After a soft knock, she pushes open the door and enters ahead of me.
I look around the space. Nice. The room is comfortable and tastefully decorated with the focus on practicality. Bars are mounted along the length of the walls for assisted walking while call buttons are strategically placed in case of an emergency. Net curtains in front of a sliding door that gives access to a balcony blow in the breeze.
Mina heads toward the open door. The minute she clears it, her demeanor changes. She becomes loose and relaxed, the very image of calmness and serenity. It’s a practiced mask, one she’s no doubt mastered for her grandmother’s benefit.
A small woman with soft white hair and the same pixie-shaped face as Mina is sitting in a wheelchair in the sun. She’s wearing a fashionable red dress with ballerina shoes, her lips a matching shade of red. A book lies open on a score sheet stand that reaches her eyelevel. When she sees Mina, the color in her pale cheeks deepens to pink and her wrinkled eyes turn wide. They have the same color eyes—a magnificent icy blue.
“Mina.” She raises shaky arms, the effort it takes not escaping me. “This is a surprise.” Her gaze turns on me, sharp and watchful. “And who is this handsome gentleman?”
I let her hug her granddaughter before taking one of her weathered hands in both of mine. “Yan Ivanov. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Call me Hanna.” Her evaluation sharpens more. “Ivanov. That’s a Russian name.”
I nod. “From Moscow.”
She switches over to Russian, her accent flawless. “Where are my manners? Please, have a seat.”
I draw up two chairs, seating Mina before I take mine.
“Would you like some tea?” Hanna asks.
“We’re not staying—” Mina starts, but I cut her short.
“That’s very kind, thank you. I’m thirsty.” I pin Mina with a look. “As I’m sure Mina is. If you tell me where the kitchen is, I’ll get the tea.”
Just as Mina’s shoulders sag in obvious relief at being rid of me, at least for a short while, Hanna says, “Oh, no. You’re our guest.” A look of mischief comes over her features. “Mina will get it. She knows her way around.”
“But I—” Mina starts again.
“Some biscuits, too,” Hanna says with a wink. “And warm milk for my tea.” Then to me, “I don’t like my tea cooling quickly.”
Clever old minx. She’s orchestrating it for us to be alone, and I can only imagine why.
“I’ll ring for a nurse,” Mina offers.
“No, no,” Hanna replies with a great show of shock at the suggestion. “They make the tea too weak. Besides, those ladies have better things to do than serve us tea.”
Reluctantly, Mina gets to her feet. She looks between her grandmother and me, obviously fighting an internal battle. Remembering my manners, I get up, too. When Mina steps around me, I brush my fingers over hers. It’s a slight touch in passing only, as much as I can afford in front of her grandmother, but it’s meant to set her at ease. I’m not going to cut Hanna’s throat. I’ll never harm Hanna, because Mina is going nowhere. She’s staying right where she belongs—by my side.
Once we’re alone, Hanna scrutinizes me with the kind of insightfulness that speaks of volumes of life experience. “Mr. Ivanov—”
“Yan,
