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tourist. I tried to brazen it out. I took some business classes, I said. And that s what you re doing,
isn t it? Flooding the market. Thousands of cheap guns. So that your competitors look expensive and
you force them out, and you control everything.
He slowly nodded. Exactly.
But it s guns. So many guns. Just one of those could be used in a robbery or a murder and you re
talking about thousands.
Hundreds of thousands, over the next decade. He put his hands on my shoulders. The touch
would have been warm and comforting any other time, but it wasn t working now. But I don t
control what people do with them.
At that, I lost it. Hot anger bubbled up from right down in my chest. That old excuse?
He stared at me and I could see his own anger growing, too. It s just business, Arianna. I m
taking the violence out of it. Once we control the whole market, there ll be no more fighting with
rival gangs. Much better than if bastards like Olaf Ralavich control it. The deals, the smuggling it
can all be clean and bloodless.
But it s guns! It s never bloodless! You re ignoring what happens when the guns get to where
they re going!
His eyes narrowed. I didn t make your criminals want to kill each other. I didn t even make them
demand guns. I m just filling the demand.
What about kids? I said savagely. And, at that, I saw him hesitate and almost wince. For a
second, those hard eyes softened. What about kids of fourteen, fifteen even younger, who get mixed
up with street gangs and shot with one of the new, cheap guns? What about them?
He glanced away, not meeting my eyes. That is unfortunate.
But you could do something about it! Once you control the supply, you could set conditions!
Threaten to cut off their guns if they hand them out to teenagers.
He held my gaze for a split second, his eyes widening in surprise. And something else. Respect.
But then he shook his head and looked away. Arianna, you don t know this world. I couldn t do that.
It shows weakness. Besides, my father would never support it.
You have to! I blurted. And then realized I d said far too much already. What was rattling
around my head was, you have to, because if you re really this cold then I don t know if there s any
hope for you.
His lips pressed together in a tight line and he loomed at me. I don t have to do anything, he
said sharply. But then he stared at me for another beat, half furious and half...something else. You re
not, are you? he muttered.
Not what?
Not scared of me. No one ever stands up to me.
I am scared of you, I said in a low voice. I just...say stuff anyway.
He held my gaze a second longer and then he glanced off down the road. There was nothing in
sight, but I knew what he was thinking. He was gazing at the point where his dad s car had vanished
into the distance. Reminding himself that he and I could never work. He sighed. Come, he said.
We should go.
***
The trip back to Moscow would be much quicker than the outward one. Now that we d got rid of
the guns and didn t have to dodge the coastguard, Luka explained, we could take a more direct route.
Five hours on the yacht, a flight and we d be home.
Luka spent most of the time on the bridge with the captain. Given that there wasn t anything to see
except for the featureless gray ocean, I knew he was avoiding me. And I knew why. He was debating
breaking up with me.
I lay on the bed in our stateroom and tried to figure out my feelings. I should be happy! The
mission was nearly over and it was a complete success. I d done everything asked of me and soon I d
go home. Some weeks or months down the line, there d be an epic bust. I d be hailed as a star field
agent and Luka would spend the rest of his life in a Russian prison.
So why did I feel ripped apart inside?
It was as if everything good we d had was being twisted like a knife into my guts. I d used his
feelings against him.
He was an arms dealer. He was evil. But I was worse.
***
Back in St. Petersburg, Yuri transferred our bags to a car and we set off for the airport. Luka and I
both sat there brooding, staring out of opposite windows. It seemed like we d sit like that for the
entire flight back to Moscow, too.
Until, suddenly, Luka s cell phone bleeped. Not a call or a text some sort of app. And his face
lit up with genuine pleasure for a few seconds before he reigned himself in. He leaned forward to
Yuri and muttered something I couldn t hear, and we turned off the highway.
What s going on? I asked.
Luka grinned at me. I could still sense the storm on the horizon we both knew, now, that this
couldn t last. But just for a second, he was happy and he wanted to share it with me. He showed me
the screen of his phone a map of the area, with an airplane symbol on St. Petersburg. Jet is here,
he said with satisfaction.
Jet is here? I said blankly.
Jet is here.
***
Another trophy? I asked, eying the sleek white business jet.
He shook his head. I bought this myself. He stroked the wing lovingly. She was having work
done on her engines that s why we had to take a normal flight on the way here. But now she s back.
She?
On board, the pilot and co-pilot greeted us, all smiles and enthusiasm. Luka asked after their
wives and kids. I saw the same fierce streak of loyalty in the pilots I saw in Yuri for all his evil,
Luka obviously treated his staff well.
He was still grinning when we sat down in the huge leather armchairs and buckled ourselves in
for take-off. He took my hand and, as the engines spun up, he squeezed it.
He was...excited. This huge bear of a man, that nothing seemed to phase, was excited.
I blinked. I d known there was tenderness inside him but I hadn t expected to see...fun. He d
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