“Have you ever heard her voice before?” Andrei plays the conversation Kirill had with the mysterious Caesar. Kenzi listens intently but there is no flicker of recognition on her face.
“No,” she shakes her head. “But Legionnaires usually don’t have contact with anyone other than their handlers if they have one.”
“Did you?” I ask curiously.
Kenzi shrugs. “For a little while,” she sighs. “Her name was Venus.”
“I thought you didn’t have names,” I ask.
“Only the most trusted operatives get names,” she divulges bitterly. “Usually Greek or Roman deity names. It’s their reward for doing their job without asking questions.”
“You don’t sound thrilled about that.”
Kenzi snorts derisively. “When you first arrive, they try to pit you against each other.” Her eyes take on the faraway look she gets when she dissociates from her past. “The better you are, the better your ranking, and the only way your ranking goes up is by defeating your competition.”
“The other operatives.”
Kenzi nods.
“The first day,” she takes a stuttering breath. “They separated us into groups of four or five and stuck us in a room with a handful of melee weapons. Then told us only one of us can come out alive.”
Andrei curses under his breath.
“They say it will desensitize us to violence.” She chuckles bitterly. “I didn’t realize dying was the better option.”
She doesn’t say any more after that and neither of us pushes her. I have a feeling I know where her story is going, and I respect her too much to force her to relive that.
“Venus was my handler for about six months before I proved I was capable on my own,” Kenzi continues answering Andrei’s original question. “Now, it’s a text message with a name and photo. Sometimes, like with Kirill, they want it to be done at a specific spot and time, but mostly someone just wants the job done.”
I nod.
“You can’t go back,” I point out the obvious to her. “You know that right?”
Rolling her eyes, Kenzi shakes her head. “No shit, Sherlock,” she deadpans. “But it is completely worth it.”
“How did you…” Andrei is interrupted by Dima calling Kenzi’s name. Mark is on vidcom for her.
“Be back.” She gets up from her seat and moves to the back of the plane.
Andrei and I sit in silence for a few moments, neither of us knowing what to say. This is the first time we have been alone together.
I tap my fingers against the seat’s armrest.
Fuck, I am nervous.
I never get nervous.
Then again, I never imagined I had any other immediate family other than Kirill. Andrei decided to accompany me back to Seattle with Dima and Kenzi. He says he wants to help and the moment I graciously accepted his offer, he was on the phone with hissovietnikmaking plans to have men sent from Russia to assist.
I think he is also looking to connect.
Not that either of us knows how to do that. It is pretty obvious where I inherited my lack of social skills from.
“Ivan says you arePakhanof the Seattle Bratva.” Andrei breaks the silence. I shift my gaze from the open scenic window to find his gray eyes staring at me intently. It is like looking in a mirror. “I know Tomas Ivankov well, he is a good man. A good leader.”
I dip my head. “He is,” I agree, unsure of what else to say. Andrei licks his lips anxiously, his own fingertips tapping silently against his knee.
More silence.