Russian Killer's Baby by Bella Rose Read Free Book Online Page B

fact, she was busy informing me that I’m supposed to be dead.”
    The woman’s dark eyes widened a fraction. “I’m sorry, she is too young to realize she is being rude.”
    “I understand that.”
    It was obvious the woman wanted to say more. Annika wondered who she was. “You can ask me anything you want to, you know.”
    “What?”
    “I said you can ask whatever you want,” Annika repeated. “I can tell you have something on your mind.”
    “Your papa.” The woman seemed to be struggling with her words in English.
    Annika took pity on her. What was she? Some kind of Russian mail-order bride? Annika switched to Russian. “You can ask in Russian if you want.”
    “Why did your papa kill my husband?”
    Annika felt as if someone had poured cold water down her back. “I’m sorry? You think my father killed your husband?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who was your husband?”
    “Vasily Volkov.”
    Annika racked her brain for any mention of a man by that name that her papa might have made. Nothing came to mind. She and Vadir didn’t speak much. She certainly didn’t ask him about his business concerns.
    “This morning my papa told me that the syndicate was after him,” Annika said slowly. “He was sure that he’d done something very bad. Perhaps your husband was involved.”
    “My husband was a good man!” The woman was fighting tears.
    “What’s your name?” Annika asked gently.
    “Irina.”
    “I’m sorry for your loss, Irina. I can well imagine that my papa could be involved, but I can’t tell you why or how because I don’t know.” Annika thought about everything that had happened since her father had shown up at her apartment this morning. “Believe me, I learned a long time ago that my papa is not a good man. I’m in trouble now because of what he did.”
    Irina sighed. “I should not blame you for the sins of your father.”
    “I understand why you would.”
    Irina appeared to be thinking very seriously about something. She started to speak and then stopped. Finally her expression shifted as though she’d made up her mind. “There’s a back entrance here.”
    “Okay.”
    “Nobody is watching it at the moment.”
    Annika jumped to her feet. “How close are we to the train station?”
    “A few blocks at most.” Irina pointed in what Annika guessed to be a vaguely northeastern direction. “The station is that way, but you must hurry. Pyotr and Feliks will be done talking before long.”
    “Thank you.” Annika touched Irina’s shoulder. “I’ll remember this. If I can somehow return the favor someday, I will.”
    “Leave this room and go left,” Irina instructed. “You will see the way.”
    Annika stepped quick and light as she left the ugly sitting room. She heard boisterous voices conversing in Russian to her right. Moving away from the men who were very likely syndicate muscle, she headed left down the narrow corridor.
    There were heavy antiques and knickknacks everywhere. Annika had to dodge a towering clock or risk banging her knee. Fortunately, the thick Persian rugs muffled her footsteps.
    Once she reached the end of the hallway, she realized it emerged into a kitchen. The state of the art room was filled with shining stainless steel appliances, but no people. Annika made her way around the island toward the door. She increased her pace, anticipating freedom and wondering if she was making the right choice.
    Grabbing the door handle, she gave it a turn and gingerly opened the door. She held her breath and listened closely for the sound of men outside. The only noise was the rumble of traffic on a nearby street.
    Annika stepped out and let the door close softly behind her. She gauged her direction and set off in hopes of catching a train just as it entered the station. She glanced back once as she went down the steps to the driveway. There was no doubt Feliks was going to be mad. The real question was why did she care?
    ***
    Feliks noticed the imp peeking through the crack