Chapter Twenty-Three
Dmitri
Ispent the ride home trying to push the past few hours to the back of my mind. Sarah didn’t need to know that I had blood on my hands, literally and figuratively.
Walking from my car I felt the buzz of restless energy. The kind where I wanted to crack something, twist something, make the world give up answers. The kind of energy that came from hours spent in a room where a man begged and lied and begged again, where the air tasted of fear.
But my door opened with a quiet click, the security system disarmed on the first try, and I stepped inside like a civilized man.
The house should have met me the way it always did. It should have been empty, echoing, the only sound the soft hum of the A/C and the distant city outside my windows.
Instead I smelled garlic.
Not faintly, either. Mixed with onions and something rich simmering in a pot. For half a second, I simply stood there with my hand on the door, blinking like I’d walked into someone else’s home.
A laugh floated down the hall. Small and bright. A child’s laugh.
My body tightened before my mind caught up. Instinct didn’t care that Alexis was safe here. Instinct remembered the panic on Sarah’s face at the safe house. Instinct remembered theman on my table, crying that it wasn’t his idea, that he’d been paid, that he’d been told the child was an easy grab.
It took effort to breathe normally. To move without making sound.
I followed the smell.
The kitchen lights were on, softer than the overhead glare I usually used. Someone had turned on the small lamps that made the room feel lived in. That was the only word for it.
Sarah stood at the stove, her hair tied back, her sleeves rolled to her elbows. She held a wooden spoon and was stirring with the steady rhythm of someone who cooked when she was stressed.
Alexis sat at the island on a tall stool, swinging her legs. She had a coloring book spread in front of her and was distractedly munching on a carrot. Marshmallow wound her way around my legs almost tripping me up.
Sarah glanced over her shoulder and saw me.
The spoon paused mid-stir.
Relief crossed her face first—so quick it almost didn’t register. “You’re home,” she said softly, like she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to say it at all.
Alexis twisted on the stool to look at me. Her eyes widened. “Hi!”
My throat tightened again. “Hello,zayka.”
Home.
My house felt like a home.
I set my keys on the counter without making a sound. “Did Ronnie not leave something in the refrigerator?”
“I just wanted…” Sarah started and then stopped as if she was gathering her thoughts. “After everything that happened today, I wanted to cook. Alexis needed something normal.”
Normal.In my home. In my life.
Alexis held up her coloring book proudly. “Look! I made a picture!”
It was a large fluffy creature and beside it a figure in black.
I leaned in, studying it like it was important. “Very fierce dog.”
She giggled. “It’s Marshmallow and you.”
Sarah’s mouth twitched as she turned back to the stove like she was trying not to laugh. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. If you want some.”