KRAIT MC STORIES
MOSCOW 1995
Chapter 4
THE REST
The following morning, Kait was standing in front of the living room window when a dark sedan pulled up across the street.
The driver got out and leaned against the car to light a cigarette.
He looked a few years older than Jora, with short brown hair and a heavy coat buttoned to his throat.
“Is that Maksim?”
Jora glanced through the window as he picked up the collection files.
“Yes.”
Kait reached for her coat.
Jora stopped beside her.
“Remember what I told you.”
“Stay put. Listen. Don’t interfere.”
“And if I tell you to leave, you leave.”
“I know.”
“Immediately.”
Kait looked at him.
“I know.”
Jora kissed her once.
“Good.”
They went downstairs.
Maksim straightened when they approached.
“Maksim, Kait. Kait, Maksim.”
Maksim gave her a short nod.
Put her hand out.
Maksim look at it but wouldn’t dream of not taking it and then have to deal with Jora later.
“Hi.”
He said something to Jora.
Kait didn’t understand the words, but she caught the glance in her direction and the question in his voice.
Jora answered without hesitation.
Maksim looked at her again, shrugged, and got behind the wheel.
She didn’t need Russian to understand that conversation.
You sure about bringing her?
Apparently, Jora was.
Kait got into the back seat. Jora took the passenger side and pulled the first account from the stack.
“The restaurant is about twenty minutes from here. He’s two weeks late on a loan.”
“Why hasn’t he pay?”
Jora folded the paper.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
Maksim pulled away from the curb.
Kait settled back and watched the street.
She had spent enough time in Moscow to recognize parts of the city by landmarks even when she couldn’t read the signs. She followed their route through the window, occasionally checking behind them.
A blue car stayed with them through several turns.
Kait watched it.
At the next intersection, Maksim turned left.
The blue car continued straight.
Jora glanced back.
“You were watching that car.”
“It was behind us since the bridge.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It wasn’t following us.”
“You didn’t know that.”
“I was waiting to find out.”
Jora looked at her for a moment.
“Next time, tell me as soon as you think we have a tail.”
“Okay.”
He turned back around.
Nothing else was said.
The restaurant occupied the ground floor of an older building between a pharmacy and a clothing shop.
Maksim drove past it.
Kait watched the entrance as they continued around the block.
When they parked across the street, Jora turned toward her.
“You stay here. Watch the restaurant and the street. If police stop outside, tell Maksim. If he tells you to leave, you go with him.”
Kait nodded.
Jora got out.
She watched him cross the street and enter the restaurant.
Then she started watching everything else.
People passed along the sidewalk. Cars stopped and moved again. A delivery truck pulled in half a block away. A man came out of the pharmacy and stood beneath the awning smoking.
Kait checked the mirrors.
Maksim smoked beside the open window.
Several minutes passed.
A black sedan slowed in front of the restaurant.
Kait leaned forward.
“Maksim.”
He was already watching it.
The driver looked toward the restaurant before continuing down the street.
Kait watched until it disappeared.
Maksim glanced at her in the mirror, then returned his attention to the building.
A few minutes later, an employee came outside carrying garbage bags and disappeared around the side.
Kait noted the door he used.
She kept watching.
When Jora finally came out, Maksim started the engine.
Kait unlocked the passenger door before Jora reached the car.
He got in.
Maksim pulled away immediately.
Jora reached inside his coat and removed a thick envelope.
“He paid?” Kait asked.
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Nice.”
She looked at his reddened knuckles, then at the envelope.
She didn’t ask.
“No one followed you out,” she said. “One employee used the side door. Black sedan slowed down and watched the restaurant for a few seconds. Maksim saw it too.”
Jora looked back at her.
“Anything else?”
“Delivery truck. Pharmacy guy. Nothing that stood out.”
“What did the black car look like?”
“Older four-door. Male driver. Maybe forty. Rosary hanging from the mirror. I couldn’t see the plate.”
Jora watched her for another second.
Then he nodded.
“Good.”
Kait looked at the stack beside him.
“Where are we going now?”
“You are going home. We, are going on the next one.”
Kait scoffed.
“But you said—”
Jora stared at her.
“I changed my mind.”
Kait waited.
“The blue car is behind us again. Two blocks behind. I think we are being followed, and I would prefer dropping you off.”
“Why don’t you give me a gun instead? I’ll keep an eye out.”
Jora considered it. Then nodded and pulled out a small pistol from his leg holster.
Kait smiled.
She pulled the barrel back a little to check if there was a bullet already in the chamber.
There it was.
Jora shook his head and smirked despite himself and pulled another account from the stack.
There it was.
Jora shook his head and smirked despite himself and pulled another account from the stack.
“Across the river.”
Maksim glanced at him.
Jora handed the paper back to Kait.
She took it.
“What am I supposed to do with this? I can’t read it.”
“Try.”
Kait looked at him.
Jora turned forward.
Maksim changed lanes.
By the third collection, Jora stopped reminding Kait to watch the street.
They didn’t see the blue car again.
Most of the work was boring.
People paid.
Some complained first. Others stalled until Jora made it clear that waiting would cost them more.
They spent hours sitting in cars, watching buildings and following people through streets Kait was slowly learning to recognize.
Maksim taught her enough Russian to understand numbers, directions and warnings.
Jora taught her the rest.
Watch hands before faces.
Know the exits before walking inside.
Never park where someone can block you in.
Never assume the person answering the door is alone or unarmed.
Kait listened.
When Jora corrected her, she didn’t argue. When he told her to stay in the car, she stayed. When he brought her inside, she watched.
She started anticipating what they needed.
She remembered cars and faces. Kept track of which accounts had paid and which still owed. She noticed they were wasting hours crossing the city between collections and reorganized the remaining addresses by location.
Jora looked over the map she had marked.
“We can do these three together,” she said. “Then these two tomorrow.”
He studied it.
The next morning, they did it her way.
They finished before dark.
After that, Jora started giving her the addresses the night before.
Sometimes he asked what she had seen before telling her what he had noticed.
Sometimes she missed things.
The next time, she didn’t.
Sometimes she saw them first.
Jora listened.
By the eighth day, seven names had been crossed off Barinov’s list.
Kait sat at the dining table that afternoon with the final two accounts and a map spread in front of her.
Jora came out of the bedroom fastening the cuffs of a white shirt.
“We should do the apartment first,” she said. “If we wait until tonight, he’s more likely to—”
Jora folded the map closed.
Kait looked up.
“What?”
“We’re not working tonight.”
“We don’t have much time left.
“We have two collections left.”
“Exactly.”
“You’ve done enough.”
Kait leaned back.
“Am I fired?”
He smirked.
“No.”
“Then what?”
Jora held out his hand.
“We’re taking the night off. We’re going out.”
Kait looked at his shirt, then back at him.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
She took his hand.
Jora pulled her to her feet.
“Go get dressed.”
“What should I wear?”
He glanced toward the bedroom.
Kait followed his eyes.
A long garment box rested on the bed.
She looked back at him.
“What did you do?”
Jora smiled.
“Open it.”
Kait lifted the lid.
Dark green fabric filled the box.
She touched it before taking it out, running her fingers over the beading stitched into the bodice.
“Jesus.”
Jora leaned against the bedroom door.
A faint smile appeared on his face. That was the reaction he hoped for.
Kait lifted the dress from the box.
It was dark green, fitted almost all the way to the knees before widening toward the floor. Sheer fabric fell from the shoulders in long panels that would trail behind her when she walked.
She looked at him.
“Where the hell are you taking me?”
“Put it on. I’m fucking dying to see you in it.”
“I’ve never wore anything like this before.”
“Happy to be your first …”
Kait held the dress against herself.
“How much did this cost?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Don’t worry about it.”
She stared at him.
Jora smiled.
“Put on the dress, Kitty. And wear your hair up tonight.”
An hour later, Kait stood in front of the mirror trying to decide whether she had ever worn anything that made her look quite so much like someone else.
The dress hugged every curve before spilling around her feet. The green was so dark it looked almost black where the light didn’t catch it.
Jora came out of the room and joined her.
Kait turned.
Then stopped.
His tuxedo fit him perfectly.
Black jacket. White shirt. Black bow tie. Not a wrinkle anywhere. His black hair was slicked neatly back, and his shoes were polished.
He looked refined. Expensive.
Kait smiled slowly.
“Well, look at you.”
Jora’s attention was nowhere near his own clothes.
He looked her over from head to toe.
“What?”
He walked toward her.
“I knew it.”
“What?”
Jora stopped in front of her and adjusted one of the sheer panels over her shoulder.
“That you would look incredible in this dress. I did well.”
Kait laughed.
“Of course you would say that.”
He took her hand.
“Come.”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“I want to surprise you.”
He grabbed her coat and put it over her shoulder.
“You know I’m gonna try to guess the whole way, right?
“Then let’s hurry,” he said and dragged
“Jora, wait. These heels are crazy high.”
He laughed and slowed down.
By the time the Mercedes reached central Moscow, Kait had stopped asking.
She watched the city through the window instead.
Moscow was stunning during Christmas time.
Then the car slowed.
Kait looked out the window.
A massive white building stood ahead of them, lit against the night. Tall columns stretched across the front, and above them, horses pulled a chariot across the roof.
She leaned closer to the glass.
“What is that?”
“Bolshoi Theatre.”
Kait looked at it for another second.
“A theater? It looks like the White House.”
Jora turned his head toward her.
“That might be the most American thing you’ve ever said.”
Kait laughed.
“Well, it does.”
The Mercedes stopped.
Jora opened his door without telling her anything else.
Kait watched him come around the car before he opened hers and held out his hand.
“Is it a concert?”
“It’s a lot of things. Come on.”
He smiled.
Kait took his hand.
She thought the outside was impressive.
Then they walked through the doors.
Kait stopped.
Gold.
Everywhere.
Gilded columns climbed toward impossibly high ceilings. Crystal chandeliers burned overhead, throwing light across red velvet, polished floors and sweeping staircases. People moved through it all dressed in gowns and dark suits, their voices blending beneath the music and the enormous space around them.
Kait slowly looked up.
“Holy shit.”
Jora watched her instead of the theater.
“You like it?”
She looked at him.
“What the fuck is this place?”
He laughed.
“Come on.”
He led her farther inside.
Kait forgot about the cold.
The theater seemed impossible.
Gold climbed the walls and curled around balconies stacked one above another. Red velvet covered the seats and railings. Crystal chandeliers burned overhead, throwing warm light across women in gowns and men in dark suits.
Kait slowed as Jora led her through the crowd.
She looked up.
Then farther up.
“This is crazy.”
Jora glanced at her.
“Nice, isn’t it?”
“This is incredible.”
He looked around and then back at her.
“Glad you think so.”
“You don’t look too impressed.”
“I’ve been here before.”
“Really?”
“Long time ago.”
He smiled and placed his hand at the small of her back.
Their seats were in a private balcony with a clear view of the stage.
Of course they were.
Kait stepped inside and looked over the railing.
The theater spread beneath her.
For a moment, she became painfully aware of everything she was wearing. The dress fitted to her body. The fabric falling from her shoulders. The high heels she was wearing. Her hair pinned up instead of hanging loose around her face.
Kait looked nothing like the girl who had arrived at Sheremetyevo with a backpack, an old photograph and barely enough money for a shitty hotel.
She also looked nothing like the girl who just a couple of months ago, wanted to wear a snake patch on her back.
Jora pulled out her chair.
Kait looked at him.
“What?”
“You look so beautiful.”
She smiled and sat.
Jora took the chair beside her and the lights began to dim.
Conversation disappeared around them.
Then the orchestra started.
For a moment, Jora was afraid she’d be bored.
She wasn’t.
At first, she watched because everything was so beautiful.
The enormous Christmas tree. The costumes. Children moving across the stage. Clara receiving the wooden Nutcracker. The strange little world being built beneath the lights.
Then the mice came.
Kait leaned forward.
Jora noticed and it made him smile.
She ignored him.
The battle erupted across the stage, toy soldiers fighting the Mouse King while the music swelled beneath them.
Kait whispered, “Okay. This part kicks ass.”
Jora smiled but kept his eyes on the stage.
When the Nutcracker became a prince and the story moved into the snow, something changed.
The stage seemed to disappear.
Snow fell beneath blue-white light as dancers moved through it, impossibly light on their feet. The orchestra filled the theater until Kait could feel the music in her chest.
She forgot to wonder how much the tickets cost.
Forgot that two nights earlier she’d spent almost three hours sitting in a stolen car outside an apartment building waiting for a man who owed Barinov money.
Forgot Moscow had ever seemed gray and hostile.
Jora reached over and took her hand.
Kait threaded her gloved fingers through his.
By the second act, she was completely lost in it.
The Sugar Plum Fairy. The dances from places Kait had never seen. Costumes changing with every scene. Music she recognized without knowing she’d ever heard it before.
She whispered questions occasionally or pointed things out.
Jora answered quietly when he knew.
When he didn’t, he simply shook his head.
At some point Kait realized she had been sitting forward for nearly half the performance.
She leaned back.
Jora was looking at her instead of the stage.
“What?”
He shook his head and offered her another glass of champagne
Kait narrowed her eyes.
Jora lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.
She looked back toward the stage.
A few minutes later, his arm settled behind her chair.
Kait leaned into him without thinking.
He kissed the top of her head.
She smiled.
What the fuck was her life?
Almost three months ago she’d been standing in Copenhagen screaming at her father.
Then she’d gotten on an airplane with almost no money and a photograph from 1974.
She’d slept in a room with a knife beneath her pillow and a window that wouldn’t close.
Now she was sitting in the Bolshoi Theatre in a beautiful gown beside a Russian criminal wearing a tuxedo that probably cost more than everything she’d brought to Moscow.
And somehow, for those few hours, Kait felt like a fucking princess.
Not somebody’s daughter.
Not the girl Krait wouldn’t take.
Not the woman who had spent years preparing for a chance nobody intended to give her.
Just Kait.
Beautifully dressed.
Wanted by the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
Happy….
And in love.
When the final curtain fell, she stood with everyone else and applauded until her palms hurt.
Outside, Moscow hit her with cold hard enough to steal her breath.
Jora draped her coat around her shoulders before putting on his own.
Kait looked back at the illuminated theater.
“That was incredible.”
“I was hoping you’d like it.”
“Did you?”
“Of course. It’s my favorite Christmas story.”
“It was great.”
“I’m glad you didn’t fall asleep.”
She laughed and slipped her arm through his.
“I was actually afraid you might.”
They started walking toward the Mercedes.
“No way, that fucking ruled. Thank you.”
Jora looked at her.
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
“No…”
Kait stopped.
Jora stopped with her.
People moved around them toward waiting cars.
Kait looked back toward the theater.
“I mean… For all of it.”
Jora’s expression softened.
“You earned tonight.”
“I sat in cars and stared at buildings.”
“You’ve done more than that.”
“So have you.”
He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Kait looked at him.
Something had changed between them over the past weeks so gradually she hadn’t noticed when it happened.
She didn’t think about Copenhagen every morning anymore.
She wasn’t counting the money she had left.
She hadn’t asked herself in a long time how much longer she was staying.
She lived with Jora.
She worked beside him.
At night, she slept with her head on his chest.
Somewhere along the way, Moscow had stopped being the place she’d come to find Katya.
It had become the place where Jora was.
His thumb moved once along her cheek.
“I love you.”
Kait went still.
There was no grin after it.
No teasing.
Jora just looked at her.
Her chest tightened.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him for another second.
Then she smiled.
“I love you too.”
Jora closed his eyes for a second. As if it hurt to hear it.
He took a deep breath and kissed her.
Kait wrapped her arms around his neck beneath the coat and kissed him back, surrounded by strangers and headlights and the glow of the Bolshoi behind them.
For once, she wanted exactly what she already had.
For the first time since she’d left Texas three years earlier, Kait wasn’t thinking about Kolton.
For years, some part of her had always assumed she’d eventually go back. That no matter how far she traveled or how much her life changed, somehow they would end up together.
She didn’t feel that anymore.
Standing there in Jora’s arms, Kait could see a different life just as clearly.
Russia. Jora… and whatever came next.
