BONUS SCENE
Maykl
Someone’s knocking on the Kremlin doors. Technically, not my problem. The doors are locked—it’s past business hours. It’s approaching nine at night, for f**k’s sake.
But I have the video feed running in my room–because I take security at the Kremlin very seriously, and this one doesn’t look like she’s going away.
She’s hunched against the wind. The full-length woolen jacket wrapped around her is big, but it doesn’t disguise how slender she appears.
She raises her gloved hand and raps on the glass. “Pozhaluysta.” I can’t hear the word, but I see her lips form it.
Blyad’. She’s Russian.
I’m up and out of my chair in a heartbeat, palming a pistol that I tuck in the waistband of my jeans. I shove my feet in a pair of boots and get on the elevator to go down to the fron
