KRAIT MC STORIES
MOSCOW 1995
Chapter 6
COUNTDOWN
Kait stood in front of the bedroom mirror fastening an earring.
Behind her, Jora was tying his bow tie.
She watched him through the mirror.
“I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but did you hear anything at all about Konstantine or Katya?”
Jora’s hands never stopped.
“No.”
Kait nodded.
She had expected it.
Jora finished the knot and adjusted it.
“You know I would tell you right away.”
“Yeah. I know. Just… whatever.”
“Your grandfather is a very powerful man, Kitty. He won’t be easy to find.”
Kait turned around.
“Maybe someone tonight—”
“No one is going to say shit.”
The answer came quickly enough to make her pause.
Jora picked up his jacket.
“Probably not. But if I recognize someone worth asking, I’ll handle it.”
He slipped into his jacket and smoothed the front.
Kait watched him.
Another tuxedo.
Apparently Jora had more than one.
“Careful with what you say tonight. Remember, you are just a Danish girl trying to start over in the Motherland.”
Jora looked her over.
“Where’s the lie in that?”
Kait smiled and reached for her coat.
Jora caught her hand before she got there.
“Wait.”
He opened the top drawer of the dresser and took out a small velvet box.
Kait stared at it.
“Oh my god, baby… what did you get me now?”
“Let’s find out.”
“Jora.”
“Kitty.”
She took the box.
Inside was a diamond bracelet.
Kait looked at him.
“You are insane. You’ve spent so much on me already.”
“You never ask for anything. So I just keep guessing”
She stared at him.
Jora took the box from her, removed the bracelet and put it on her wrist.
Kait rolled her wrist a little and watched the light of the diamonds shine in the mirror.
“This must’ve been so expensive.”
“Well, everyone is going to look their best and you won’t be outshined by the other wives.”
Kait’s eyebrows went up
Jora winced and closed his eyes.
“I meant—”
Kait turned around and kissed him.
“I know what you meant.”
“Alright. We should get going. I don’t want to be there longer than we have to.”
He kissed the side of her head.
“Okay.”
“You look incredible.”
Kait looked at herself again.
The woman in the mirror was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile with the nineteen-year-old who had arrived in Moscow carrying everything she owned in a backpack.
A beautiful red dress.
Diamonds.
A ridiculously handsome Russian criminal showering her with diamonds and expensive gifts.
A ridiculously handsome Russian criminal she’d kill for.
Apparently, this was her life now.
She smiled.
“Fine.”
Jora reached for her coat and held it open.
Kait slipped her arms into it.
“How big is this party?”
“Big enough.”
“That’s so helpful.”
“Let’s just say Barinov likes people to see what he has.”
“So this is just him showing off.”
“Mostly.”
Jora reached for her coat.
“Wait! Let’s take a picture.”
Jora chuckled.
“Kitty… only one.”
“Yeah.”
“Right… knowing you, it will be 1996 by the time you’re happy with it.”
“No… just get the camera.”
He went to the cabinet and grabbed the polaroid.
Kait got close to Jora putting one hand on his chest and they both smiled.
Flash.
Picture taken.
Kait grabbed it and shook it fast while Jora put the camera away.
He came back with her coat over her shoulders.
“See. It’s perfect.”
Jora arched his eyebrows.
“That is a good picture.”
Kait gave an I-told-you-so face to Jora and left the freshly developed polaroid on the side table.
“So, just so you know what to expect. At the party tonight, there will be men higher than me. Some higher than Barinov even. Businessmen. Politicians. Police. Their wives. Girlfriends.”
“Okay.”
Jora kissed her.
“So stay close tonight. Powerful men feel entitled. Especially to beautiful girls.”
“Are we going to be in danger?”
“With that type of people and an open bar…”
Kait picked up her purse.
“Gotcha.”
The hotel occupied most of the block.
Jora handed the Mercedes to a valet beneath the covered entrance and came around before Kait could open her own door.
She looked past him at the building.
“You said Barinov was having a party.”
“He is.”
“You left out the part where half of Moscow was invited.”
Jora held out his hand.
Kait took it and stepped from the car.
His eyes moved over her.
“You’re the most beautiful woman here.”
“We haven’t been inside yet.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Kait smiled and he kissed her hand.
An attendant opened the door for them.
Inside, they handed over their coats and followed the sound of music through the marble lobby.
The ballroom doors stood open.
Kait slowed when they reached them.
Crystal chandeliers hung above a room crowded with tuxedos and evening gowns. White linen covered the tables. Champagne moved through the room on silver trays. A band played near the dance floor beneath hundreds of voices.
Men stood together in small groups, drinking and laughing.
Their women wore silk, velvet, diamonds and fur.
Nothing about the room looked dangerous.
Jora’s hand settled at the small of Kait’s back.
“How many exits you see?”
She discreetly scanned the room.
She looked at him.
“Six.”
“Good job.”
Kait smiled.
Jora leaned down and kissed her temple.
They stepped farther inside.
People noticed Jora almost immediately.
That interested Kait more than the ballroom.
Two months earlier, men had acknowledged him when he walked into a club.
Tonight, they came to him.
They shook his hand. Stopped him to talk. Asked about work. Introduced him to people Kait had never met.
Jora moved easily among them.
Kait stood beside him and listened.
Her Russian had improved enough that individual words came through now. Names. Places. Numbers. Occasionally enough of a sentence to understand what they were discussing.
Money, mostly.
Always money.
Jora introduced her when necessary.
A waiter passed with champagne.
Kait took a glass.
Jora took one a moment later.
“Barinov is here?”
“Yes.”
“You said he wanted to meet me.”
“He does.”
“Why?”
“Because people talk.”
“Oleg…”
“Oleg talks more than most.”
Kait glanced around the ballroom.
“Is he here?”
“Somewhere.”
“Wonderful.”
Jora touched her back.
“Forget him.”
Across the ballroom, Barinov saw them.
He lifted two fingers.
Jora exhaled.
“There.”
Kait followed his gaze.
Barinov wore a black tuxedo, his hair combed neatly back. He looked less like a man who ran collections and protection rackets than someone who might own the hotel.
Maybe he did.
They crossed the room.
Barinov finished speaking to the couple beside him and turned toward them.
His attention went immediately to Kait.
“So.”
Jora gave him a small smile.
“Barinov.”
“You brought her.”
“You told me to.”
“I wasn’t sure you listened.”
Barinov looked at Kait.
“Kait.”
“Yes.”
His English was accented but clear.
“I’ve heard about you.”
Kait glanced at Jora.
“Likewise.”
Barinov smiled.
Jora’s expression barely changed.
Barinov offered his hand.
Kait took it.
“Welcome.”
“Thank you.”
Barinov looked at Jora and something in Russia. Jora nodded once but it didn’t seem like he liked what Barinov said.
“Jora says you’re from Denmark?”
“Yes. Copenhagen.”
“You came to Moscow alone?”
“Yeah.”
“And stayed.”
Kait looked at Jora.
“That’s right.”
Barinov noticed.
Something amused him.
“Did you find your relatives?”
“Not yet.”
“Whoever they are, perhaps they did you a favor.”
Kait frowned slightly.
Someone called Barinov’s name behind him.
He lifted his glass toward her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kait. Jora.”
Jora and Kait nodded.
“Thanks for the invite.”
Jora guided her away.
They had barely made it ten feet before Kait looked at him.
“He’s not so bad.”
“What did you expect? To shot someone in the middle of the conversation?”
Kait laughed.
“What did he say to you?”
Jora took a drink then rolled his eyes.
“He said no wonder I don’t bring you out. That he wouldn’t let you out of his room either if you were his.”
“What a weirdo.”
“That’s Barinov for ya.”
Kait brushed off a drop of champagne from his jacket.
“So, that means I’m yours?”
“In this world, that is a good thing, Kitty. It keeps you safe.”
“So yes?”
Jora touched his glass against hers.
“Drink your champagne, Kitty.”
Near the far side of the ballroom, Oleg watched them disappear into the crowd.
He had gone back to the basement club the same night he saw Jora.
He remembered the photograph.
More importantly, he remembered the girl carrying it.
The bartender had needed help remembering her.
Money helped.
So did Oleg reminding him of the foreign blonde who had come through more than once before disappearing with Jora.
Eventually, the man remembered.
The photograph had been of a woman.
Katya Dragunova.
The blonde had been looking for her.
Her mother, she said.
That had been enough to keep Oleg awake considerably longer than he intended.
Because Oleg knew who Katya Dragunova was.
And he knew who her father was.
Now Konstantine Dragunov’s granddaughter was standing in Barinov’s ballroom with Jora’s hand resting against her waist.
Oleg watched them for a while.
He had been watching Jora for longer.
Jora didn’t know that.
Months earlier, Oleg’s interest had been personal. Jora was ambitious, Barinov was beginning to notice him, and Oleg had never trusted how carefully the younger man kept his business to himself.
So Oleg had occasionally put eyes on him.
Nothing elaborate.
Nothing that should have mattered.
Until Jora started meeting people he had no obvious reason to meet.
Men outside Barinov’s circle.
A man in Khamovniki.
Another who did business with people close to Dragunov.
At the time, Oleg had assumed Jora was building contacts for himself.
That alone had been worth remembering.
But learning who Kait was, changed what it looked like.
Across the room, Jora put his hand out.
Kait gave him hers and followed him onto the dance floor.
Oleg took a drink.
He waited.
Barinov was busy.
There was no reason to hurry.
Kait danced with Jora.
She met Maksim’s wife and discovered within five minutes that Maksim apparently talked much more at home than he did around her.
She drank champagne.
Jora disappeared into conversations and always came back.
By eleven, Kait had stopped feeling like she had walked into somebody else’s world.
She knew men like these now.
Not all their names.
Not all their ranks.
But she knew how to watch them.
She knew which men made others straighten when they approached. Which ones never reached for their own cigarettes. Which ones could interrupt a conversation without apologizing.
She had learned more than just surviving a vodka hangover in Moscow.
Jora had taught her some of the most important things.
The rest she had learned by paying attention.
Eventually Jora was pulled into another conversation near the dance floor.
Kait stayed beside him.
Across the ballroom, Oleg saw Barinov alone.
He crossed the room.
“You met Jora’s girl.”
Barinov looked at him.
“Yes.”
“You know who she is?”
Barinov’s expression changed slightly.
“Danish girl who got lost in Russia looking for her relatives?”
Oleg glanced across the room.
“You know who those relatives are?”
Barinov narrowed his eyes.
“I went back to the club last night,” Oleg continued. “Jora’s club.”
Barinov listened.
“The bartender remembered her. She’d been showing people a photograph.”
“Photograph of what? Who?”
Oleg’s wet his lips.
“Katya Dragunova.”
Barinov’s eyes moved toward Kait.
Oleg let him think about the name.
“She told the bartender Katya was her mother.”
Barinov turned his head.
“You’re sure?”
“Sure enough to tell you.”
Oleg looked toward Kait again.
“That would make her Konstantine’s granddaughter.”
Barinov went still.
Almost ten years ago Minkov, the head of the Bratva had picked Dragunov instead of him to run one of the most profitable districts in Moscow. The one he wanted.
And Konstantine made sure to remind everyone, every chance he had.
Now Dragunov was one of the most important men in the Moscow Bratva.
He had it all.
The money.
The soldiers.
The police.
He had spent years building exactly what Minkov claimed to value. But he still chose Dragunov.
His eyes remained on Kait.
“She’s been with Jora since October?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s been taking her to do some jobs.”
Barinov looked at Oleg, then back across the ballroom.
Jora was talking.
Kait stood beside him, listening.
Watching.
Oleg waited another moment.
Then he said, “There’s something else.”
Barinov turned toward him.
“I’ve had Jora watched.”
“Why?”
“I thought he was hiding something.”
“And?”
“He’s been meeting people.”
“He meets people every fucking day.”
“Not ours.”
That held Barinov’s attention.
Oleg gave him the names.
The first meant little.
The second did not.
Viktor, the bookie. The man who could find a needle in a haystack and disappear bodies in the Baltic Sea.
Barinov’s face hardened.
“He met with him? And you’re telling me this now?”
“I didn’t know what I was looking at yet.”
Barinov’s eyes returned to Jora.
Oleg lowered his voice.
“Now I do. Maybe He’s trying to get access to Dragunov using the girl. Maybe Zmeyev is aiming higher than just a block downtown.”
Barinov said nothing.
Oleg didn’t need to tell him what to think.
Jora had brought a foreign woman into his bed.
Then into Barinov’s business.
The girl had arrived in Moscow looking for Katya Dragunova.
Jora had quietly begun meeting men connected to Konstantine.
Barinov watched Jora put a hand against Kait’s back as someone passed too close behind her.
One coincidence.
Perhaps.
Several were harder to ignore.
“You think Jora knows who she is?” Barinov asked.
“I’m sure he does.”
Barinov looked at him.
Oleg continued.
“Maybe he’s doing business with Konstantine already. Maybe getting close to the granddaughter was how he planned to get to the grandfather.”
“Or what if Dragunov sent her to spy on us?”
“Possibly. Maybe they’re both working for him.” Oleg glanced across the ballroom. “But I guarantee you. If she is Dragunov’s spy. Pretty Boy will tell her everything. Just look. She has him eating of her hand.”
Barinov took a slow drink and watched as Jora kissed Kait’s neck.
But he didn’t look convinced.
He didn’t look unconvinced either.
“Watch them.”
Oleg nodded.
“And Oleg…”
He stopped.
“If any of this turns out to be a lie because you want Jora out of your way, you’ll fucking regret it.”
Oleg held his gaze.
“That is not what this is. I am only looking after our business.”
Across the ballroom, Jora looked up.
He saw Oleg standing beside Barinov.
That alone didn’t bother him.
What bothered him was where Barinov was looking.
At Kait.
Jora stopped listening to the man in front of him.
Kait noticed.
“What?”
He didn’t answer.
She followed his gaze.
Oleg was still beside Barinov.
Barinov looked away first.
Oleg didn’t.
His eyes met Jora’s across the ballroom.
There was something satisfied in his face.
Jora’s expression changed.
Kait saw it.
“What the fuck is he looking at?”
“Let’s go.”
Jora put his arm around her waist.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Let’s get your coat.”
“But it’s not even midnight.”
“I’d rather spend New Year’s alone with you.”
She studied his face.
“Jora, what happened?”
He looked toward Barinov again.
Barinov had already turned to someone else.
“Nothing yet.”
That answer did nothing to reassure her.
Jora took a bottle of champagne from a waiter, then he took Kait’s hand.
“Come on, Kitty.”
This time, Kait went with him.
Behind them, Barinov watched until the ballroom doors closed.
Jora didn’t speak until they were inside the apartment.
He locked the door behind them, then stood there for a moment with his hand still on the lock.
Kait watched him.
“You gonna tell me now?”
Jora looked at her.
In one hand, he still carried the bottle of champagne he’d taken from the hotel.
He lifted it slightly.
“First, I’m going to drink Barinov’s champagne.”
“I can’t believe you stole that.”
“I but liberated it.”
Despite herself, Kait smiled.
“What was Oleg’s deal?”
“I don’t know.”
She made a face.
“Bullshit.”
Jora pulled the cork. It struck the ceiling, and Kait flinched before laughing.
“Jesus.”
He took a drink straight form the bottle, which surprised Kait.
“I didn’t like the way they were looking at you. That’s all.”
“And that was enough to drag me out of there?”
“Yes. I don’t trust Oleg.”
Jora took a long drink, then crossed to the stereo.
A moment later, the first notes of Back for Good filled the apartment.
Kait stared at him.
“You’re trying to tune me out?”
He closed his eyes and closed his pretending to love the song.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“Yes.”
At least he admitted it.
Jora came back to her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“No.”
“Jora.”
He took another drink.
Then he kissed her.
Kait let him for a few seconds before putting a hand against his chest.
“No. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Distract me.”
He kissed her again.
She turned her face away.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Instead of saying anything, Jora took her hand.
“What are you doing?”
He stepped backward and pulled her with him.
“Jora.”
He raised her hands and turned her beneath it.
Kait laughed despite herself as the skirt of her dress moved around her legs.
“You’re ridiculous.”
He turned her once more and caught her against him, still holding the champagne bottle.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
The amusement left his face.
“I love you.”
Kait went still.
They had said it to each other hundreds of times after the Bolshoi but it still did something to her every time.
“I love you too.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m dropping this.”
“I know that too.”
He reached past her, picked up her champagne and put the glass into her hand.
“Drink.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’ve been bossing me around all night.”
“So? You’re mine, remember.”
Kait took a drink.
Jora watched her swallow.
Then he reached behind her and found the zipper of her dress.
“Right… I still want to know what happened.”
His fingers brushed the bare skin between her shoulders.
“I already told you. I didn’t like the way they were looking at you.”
Kait lowered the glass.
Jora kissed the side of her neck.
“And I didn’t want them to get any ideas. Especially Barinov.”
He kissed her again.
Kait tried to hold onto the question.
“Barinov didn’t even seem all that interested.”
His mouth found hers.
She kissed him back before remembering she was supposed to be irritated.
When they separated, she looked at him.
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest about something.”
Jora smiled.
He slipped the dress from one shoulder.
Kait caught it against herself.
He kissed her shoulder.
“Tell me.”
Another kiss.
Her collarbone.
“Let it go.”
Kait closed her eyes.
His hand moved along her back, unhurried now.
The anxiety she’d carried home from the hotel was still there.
It just kept getting harder to hold onto.
She set the champagne on the nearest table.
Jora looked at the glass, then at her.
“Giving up?”
“Yeah.”
She caught his bow tie and pulled it loose.
“Good.”
He kissed her.
This time Kait didn’t stop him.
The dress slipped lower.
Jora caught her hips as she reached for the buttons of his shirt.
They moved through the apartment without any particular destination, stopping whenever one of them found another reason to kiss the other.
Somewhere outside, Moscow was still counting down the final minutes of the year.
Neither of them was.
By the time they reached the bedroom, the music from the living room had faded into something distant.
Jora pulled her close beneath him.
Kait touched his face.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Jora kissed her and put himself inside her.
“I love you, Kitty.”
The clocks began to strike right as they began to move.
The first bell rolled across the city.
Another answered farther away.
Then another.
Fireworks cracked somewhere beyond the windows as midnight spread through Moscow.
Kait laughed softly against his mouth.
Jora stopped just long enough to look at her.
“Happy New Year, Kitty.”
“Happy New Year.”
He kissed her again.
Outside, the city welcomed 1996.
Inside, neither of them knew what the new year had already set in motion.
