I feel Sofiya stir again, making those little snuffling sounds that precede waking. On instinct, I rock gently, soothing her.
“May I?” Grigor asks, his eyes on Sofiya.
Vince’s entire body coils with tension. “Not a f*****g chance.”
But something in me—some reckless curiosity—overrides caution. “It’s okay,” I tell Vince.
Carefully, I adjust the blanket so Grigor can see Sofiya’s face. I don’t hand her over—I’m not that trusting—but I allow him this glimpse of his granddaughter.
Grigor’s expression transforms again. The last of the hardness melts away. In place of the mob boss is simply an old grandfather admiring his kin for the first time.
Grigor reaches slowly into his jacket pocket. Vince’s hand immediately goes to his hip, where I know his gun rests.
But Grigor only pulls out a s
