You are good at hiding (1)

You are good at hiding (1)
KIRA
I wake up to three missed calls from Kristoff. I sit up in shock, frantically jabbing redial.
He answers on the first ring, and I don’t wait for him to say a word before I ask, “Did something happen?”
“Relax, it was an accidental dial.”
I’m so tensed that I nearly buy his bullshit. You don’t accidentally dial someone three times.
“I see,” I say. “How is he?” I ask, vaguely referring to Father in case someone has my phone tapped.
“Stubborn, but otherwise fine. Do you want to talk to him?”
“No. I’ll call you later.” I hang up before he can sniff my plans. I know something is—or was—wrong. If I ask Kristoff, he will lie or downplay the situation.
I put my phone down, realizing my hand is trembling. Logic deserts me at the memory of my mother and brother in a pool of blood, and all I can think is I don’t want to lose Father, too.
I have three hours to get to work. If I hurry, I can check on Father before going to the office.
I take one of the fastest showers of my life and throw on the first office outfit I can find before rushing out the door.
Kristof is surprised when I knock on his door.
“Kira?”
A cackle comes from inside the door. “I told you she would be here in five seconds flat.”
I’m still heaving for breath when I enter the house. It’s a relief to see Father on the couch, eating peanuts from a small bowl.
I laugh. “Great, you’re doing better than before. I was worried.” Now that it’s clear Father is alright, I turn to Kristof. “Why did you call me?”
“He wanted to leave and try to find any of his surviving lieutenants,” Kristof reports, despite Father’s glare.
“Absolutely not.” I cross my arms at Father.
He laughs. No one has ever defied his word. To the world, he is the ruthless, bloodthirsty head of the Bratva, but to me, he is just my father. I will do whatever it takes to ensure he doesn’t put his life in danger.
“I can’t stay here, hoping no one discovers I’m alive. I have to do something,” Father argues.
“Alright. Then we can get you another identity.”
That didn’t stop Grisha from finding me, I realize, but that’s only because he knew I wasn’t dead. He left Father in a state no one would survive, so why would he waste time looking for a corpse?
It’s why I don’t want him going back. I shuffle to his side and grab his arm. “Father, please. You’ve been given a second chance at life. Why would you waste it fighting a backstabbing Judas?”
Even before I’m done speaking, I know my words are falling on deaf ears. Mikhail Petrov is a ruthless man, even by Bratva standards. He will not let Grisha go unpunished.
He pats my head. “I understand, Printsessa.”
The same words he’s always used to make me drop whatever subject we’re arguing about.
“No, you don’t.” I sigh helplessly. “It’s not just Grisha I’m afraid of.”
I didn’t want to pull this move. I hoped to keep it from him for as long as possible, but now is as good a time as any. “I work for Rhys Redmond.”
____
Father’s shock is still etched on my mind as I rush into the elevator and jab the button hoping it will move faster.
I’m fifteen minutes late. Rhys is going to kill me—if my father doesn’t get to it first.
“What do you mean you work for Rhys Redmond?” he growled when I dropped the bomb.
“It was the only job I could get away from Grisha’s prying eyes. Even if he found me, he wouldn’t want to offend Rhys by doing anything to me.”
“Is that how you’ve been deluding yourself?”
What could I say? That Grisha already found me and we’ve been racing through cities, playing cat and mouse, and I’m dreading the day he decides he’s had enough fun?
I stood there like a fool while he ripped me a new one, grilling me about the enmity between Rhys and the Bratva.
“You will quit that job today. Kristof will find you a new one.”
For the first time in my life, I defied him. As soon as he mentioned quitting, I headed for the door. “No, Father. I worked hard to get this job and I will not leave just because you and Rhys have a feud I have only ever heard of.”
…
I would pat myself on the back for being the first person who talked back at Mikhail Petrov and lived to tell the tale, but I don’t have time for that. I just rushed out of a bear’s cave and into the mouth of a tiger.
At least the bear loves me and won’t chomp down on my throat. The tiger might just eat me, both literally and figuratively.
Just as I feared, Rhys is already in the office. He’s standing over my desk, tapping the printer impatiently while it spits some documents.
Oh no.
Rhys glares at me as I speed walk to my cubicle. It’s barely a quarter past nine, but his hair is already in a ruffled mess, signifying he’s tugged on it several times already. The frown deeply etched on his face makes me want to run back into the elevator and book it out of here, but I brave it until I’m right before him.
“You’re late.”
I discreetly cross my fingers. “I’m sorry, sir. I had to…” I don’t want to tell them I went to see my father, or it will give Shane something else to latch on in his quest to dig out my secrets. “It won’t happen again.”
“Of course, it won’t,” Rhys gathers the documents that have finished printing and staples them. “Because you’re fired.”