I wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d accept the fact that neither Clara nor I had listened to his warnings to keep away from each other, but was smart enough to hit him where it would hurt… his pride in his creativity in pulling a bunch of dancers together and turning them into one of the best ballet troupes in the country.
“I’m listening,” he said, taking the chair next to me and turning his attention toward Clara.
“Go on,” I said softly, rubbing my palm against her back. “You’re safe here.”
A golden ponytail swung as she shook her head. “No one is really safe… not when the bratva…” She turned to look back at me.
“I know what you mean,” I assured her. “We’re Russian, remember? Go ahead and tell your story. We’ll stop you if we have questions, all right?”
“Okay,” she said, nodding and taking a few moments to collect her thoughts. I wasn’t unaware she glanced at the clock on the wall.
“What time is he expecting you?” I asked.
“A little over an hour,” she said, looking over at Yuri. “We got out of rehearsal a bit early today.”
An hour. Sixty minutes didn’t seem very long, but it would have to do. “Then let’s not waste time,” I said. “Tell us everything that’s happened since Nikolai Kosloff showed up in Chicago.”
I saw Yuri’s reaction to the name. While I’d filled him in a bit, I’d not offered him the intimate specifics of Clara’s past that she’d shared with me. Evidently, I hadn’t needed to. I wasn’t the only man capable of running a Google search. Yuri might appear all tough and uncaring, but beneath that veneer was a man who cared deeply about his dancers.
“Yes, tell us,” Yuri said as he sat forward.
She talked for the next half hour without us interrupting her. Though she had begun speaking in short bursts, her voice hitching as she attempted to gather her thoughts or perhaps tried to smooth over the facts she didn’t want to delve too deeply into, by the time she finished, she’d become calmer. It was as if releasing the words helped remove at least a bit of the stress she’d been carrying for the past week all by herself.
“I don’t care what happens to me, but I won’t let anything happen to Baba or Yuri, or you,” she said softly, turning to look up at me.
“Well, I care what happens to you,” I said, “and so does Yuri.”
“Yeah,” he said though he appeared to be lost in thought for a moment.
Finally, he looked from Clara to the wall. I followed his gaze to see the painting of our mother, and suddenly something Clara had said exploded in my consciousness.
“Wait, tell me again. Exactly what did Nikolai say about the man on the road,” I said and saw Yuri nodding as if he’d wondered the same thing.
Clara looked between us, her eyes filling with pain, and I knew I’d touched on something she’d attempted to gloss over.
“Tell us,” I repeated softly.
“He admitted to beating up a man who had overheard something about the bratva planning on moving a shipment of cocaine. He didn’t mean to… to kill him. At least not at first. But when his cousin jeered at him for being a… a pizda, Nikolai shot him and then ran over…”
Her eyes followed Yuri’s gaze just as mine had.
“Alek… Yuri, I’m so sorry,” she said as tears she’d kept at bay began to spill. “Nikolai… he… he called the man Maxim…”
“Our father,” Yuri said between clenched teeth. “That bastard murdered our father after beating him because some asshole called him a pussy? And then he fucking laughs about it? I’ll kill the son of a bitch!”
I practically dumped Clara off my lap in my haste to stand and grab at Yuri as he attempted to storm past me. “Wait!”
“No fucking way,” Yuri said, wrenching free of my hold.
“Please, Yuri,” Clara added, reaching out to put her hand on his arm. “You’ll never get to him. He’s surrounded by his goons, and you can’t get to the penthouse without going up in the elevator, and, I promise you, no one at The Drake is going to simply let you storm in and take out one of their best-paying customers.”
“Not to mention the fact you’ll be charged with murder,” I added, holding my hand up when he glared at me. If looks alone could kill, I’d be dead where I stood. “I know, I know,” I said. “I want him as dead as you do, but I don’t want to lose you in the process, and I’m not a huge fan of looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life if by some miracle we manage to kill the bastard.”
“So what? We tuck our tails between our legs and take it?” Yuri snarled. “Talk about being a pussy. Our father would be ashamed—”