Naveen nodded. “Good because I don’t want war with the Xecutioners. At one time, I considered them friends.”
Maxwell bobbed his head. “Plus, they’re pretty as hell.”
Naveen and I stared at him.
“Come on.” Maxwell shrugged. “I can’t be the only person thinking that.”Chapter 11
Ava
When Misha returned to the penthouse, the evening’s schedule changed. A new threat hovered in the air. The group of assassins had rattled him.
What are we going to do?
Misha wanted everyone to split up and stay hidden until all threats were neutralized. I battled with following Misha’s instructions or coming up with my own solution. The problem was that I was out of my level of knowledge. Misha dealt with guns and killers. And I was an expert in unhelpful facts like, that the 19th century Classical period in ballet coincided with the 19th-century Romantic era in music. What the hell could we do with my specialties when the question dealt with keeping everyone safe?
I’ll have to trust in Misha.
He gave us clear instructions, but each step was foreign to me.
It reminded me of the sensations that came when I moved to Russia for the first time as a teenager. The complete unknown. Then, my future shifted to all black. I had no idea what would come from my entering the school. Would I fail or succeed? Would I hate Russia or love it? All I could do was walk a path of faith—see the possible in the invisible.
Thank God it all worked out.
But here I was again. Misha told me to have faith—to give it all to him. I swallowed and nodded my head, hoping that I was making the right choice.
God, please walk with us.
So far, my grandmother stayed off our enemy’s radar. Leonid and the Xecutioners never mentioned her. We had to keep it that way. Rolan would take Grandma to Prague. Apparently, hundreds of his father’s men would be there to protect him and her.
I thought I should go to Prague with them. However, Misha’s friend, Naveen thought the assassin group would follow us there. Therefore, I would remain in St Petersburg for now. Misha would stay by my side until all of this was over. He kept saying that we were going underground. All I could do was trust in him to make sure this ended safely.
An hour passed. With a worried face, Grandma packed. I put a few of my things in a bag. Minutes later, we said our goodbyes faster than I was comfortable with.
During our hug, Grandma whispered to me, “I’m confident in Misha. He loves you with a fierceness I have rarely seen in any man. He will protect you until his last breath.”
My eyes watered. “I don’t want you to go so far away—”
“I’ll be in Prague. We will see each other soon.” She held me tighter. “You know I wouldn’t separate from you unless I knew it was the best thing. With me gone that’s one less person Misha has to worry about. I want his focus on you and him.”
I blinked. “I understand.”
“We will talk on the phone as much as you want.”
With that, Rolan rushed her away.
Misha and I left out the back of the building with several of his men. Maxwell and Naveen led the way, scanning the area every few steps.
What will happen to us?
Silence was the only sound in the limo as we rode to our destination. We held hands the entire time. Misha focused on his window’s view from his window, appearing deep in thought. I followed his lead and gazed out of my window.
Where are we going?
The glitz and glam of St Petersburg shifted to shoddy bricked buildings. While the city didn’t have bad neighborhoods, like most American cities, there were places one should be vigilant around. Those sections boasted pickpockets and a few rowdy drunks here and there.
The limo continued to the outskirts of the city. People called this area the sleeping districts.
This is starting to look familiar.
I leaned forward.
Wait. Are we going to Kupchino?
Kupchino lay in the south of St Petersburg. Boasting Soviet-time panel housing, broad avenues, and severe isolation, it represented the very definition of a sleeping district. It was separated from the mainland and only had one underground station. To get to other parts of St Petersburg from there one had to take several buses and trams.
Sometimes referred to as the South Ghetto, Kupchino also had a bad reputation as being dangerous, ugly, and remote. Gopniks lived here. They were low-level criminals—street bandits. The female form was gopnitsa.
Already, I spotted a group of Gopniks squatting on the corner. Squatting was one of the extraordinary things about this group. Knees folded and soles on the concrete, the men were completely lowered to the ground but not sitting on it. Instead, they appeared to lounge their butts on invisible chairs.