"Hell if I know, but I'm taking it as a win." I just have to get there before she finds whatever she's looking for and leaves.
I hurry across town, blowing through several traffic lights and stop signs to get to Hannah's apartment before she's gone.
I run up the stairs, not waiting for the elevator. It's only three flights of stairs. As I approach the door, I raise my hand and give a firm knock.
Will she run?
She won't take Bay down the fire escape, and the windows are too high to sneak out.
There's movement on the opposite side of the door, but she doesn't come and open the door or see who's knocking.
I try the handle, but it's locked. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised, but I pound again on the door louder. "Hannah, we need to talk."
Her footsteps are loud as she approaches the door, unlocks the latch, and tugs the door open. "What do you want?"
"Can I come in, or do you want your neighbors to hear everything?"
Hannah's gaze tightens, but she steps aside. Her lips are pursed, and she folds her arms across her chest. "Bay, sweetie, go in your bedroom for a few minutes."
"Don't want to," Bay whines, staring at me. "Mama's mad at you."
Yeah, kid, tell me something I don't already know. I bend down to Bay's level. "How about you listen to your mom?" I ruffle her hair, and she wiggles out of my grasp before running to her bedroom.
"Whatever you came here to say, I don't want to hear it," Hannah says. She turns her back to me and continues the assault on her apartment, pulling drawers open and tearing the place apart.
"What are you looking for?" Does she have cash stored away or a second set of papers and documents to hide from me?
"The stupid account that you claim Mark has in the Caymans," Hannah says. "If I find you the account information, will you leave Bay and me alone?"
"I don't care about the money."
Mikhail might disagree with me, but it's not about the money with Hannah. It's about my child. I want Bay in my life. Doesn't she realize that?
She glances over her shoulder at me as she tears apart the computer desk. Each drawer is on the floor. She's searching for a false bottom, but I doubt Mark would hide the evidence in his desk. That would be too obvious, even for him. "Why are you here?" Hannah asks.
"I never wanted you to leave."
"And the letter?" Her back is to me once again. She doesn't want to face me. I can feel her anger, maybe even resentment, for trusting me.
"I never opened it. I may have put it into my coat pocket, but that's all I did."
She scoffs at my suggestion that I'm innocent in all of this. "You took it from my apartment and didn't tell me."
It's not a question but an accusation.
"I should have told you," I say, refraining from making excuses.
"Did you plan on giving it to me?" Hannah asks, spinning around to face me.
The envelope is in my pocket, the contents burn me as she speaks about it, and I slowly withdraw the letter and envelope from my jacket. It's open, crinkled, but still legible. "There was no malice involved, Zaya."
"Don't call me that!" She snatches the letter from my grasp. "This doesn't belong to you."
She's right, the letter was intended for her, and while I took it to protect her, I understand that she doesn't see it that way.
No amount of apologizing will help, and I'm not a man who begs for forgiveness. "You can hate me all you want, but I have the right to see my daughter."
She's shaking her head, her cheeks red. She's fiery and about to explode like a volcano. I should take a step back, retreat, find common ground, and put this fight off for another day.
But I'm not a man to back down or turn away from difficult situations. I deal with them daily, although they don't usually involve my family.
"You have no right, Luka!" Hannah shouts at me.
I step closer, sealing the gap between us, breaking the distance as I tower above her. A smart man would know to give her space, but I'm more interested in the fire in her gaze. She will break, and when she does, I will be the one to pick up the pieces, even if it means tearing her down first.
"I'm her father. The court will say differently."
Her jaw drops, and she shoves me as she brushes past me and heads toward the kitchen.
"Go ahead, take me to court. I'll show them the evidence that you're involved with organized crime. You'll never see Bay again."
"You're bluffing. You don't have anything." I follow her into the kitchen, backing her up against the counter. "If you did, don't you think the feds or cops would be knocking on my door? Is that why you came back here? Looking for dirt on me?"
Hannah inhales a sharp breath and shivers.
The room isn't cold except for her icy stare as she sneers at me. "I hate you."
"Tell me what I've done to deserve your abhorrence?" I tilt my head slightly, staring down at her.
Her back is against the island in the kitchen. She glances past me, her tongue darts out, grazing the edge of her lips.
"Zaya?" I'm awaiting her answer. Perhaps I should remind her of everything I've done for her, helping her and protecting her and our child. "I offered you shelter, a home, safety from a man who imprisoned you."
She opens her lips, and a heavy sigh escapes. "That's harsh."