“So what’s your plan—keep hiding in the woods?”
“I want to go back to America.”
“Do you have your documents?”
“Just my Russian ID. I grabbed it just in case. My passport’s back home.”
He gave a slight smirk. “Well, that’s probably for the best. Saves you money on a ticket. They’ll grab you at the airport the moment you show up. So your options are… limited.”
She leaned back in the seat, studying him closely. Then, with a click of her tongue, she said in a husky voice, “There is one foolproof option.”
“You’re looking at me real weird, Nadya…”
“I, um… I don’t have much money right now, but I swear I’ll repay you well if you help me. What’s your name, by the way?”
“Spartacus,” he replied.
“Spartacus? Really?”
“Really.”
“Pretty unusual name for a village guy… though you are a bit different from the rest.”
He smirked again and turned away. “My father named me after the guy in the book. The Thracian. He loved that story.”
“I should probably read it sometime,” she murmured.
He glanced at her, paused, then asked, “So what now? It’s getting late.” He looked at his watch.
“Spartacus, marry me.”
“What?!”
“Not for real,” she straightened in her seat, “just… on paper.”
“This day just keeps getting weirder. Nadya, that’s a terrible plan. I can’t help you like that. Sorry.”
“Come on, I’ll go back to America, and we’ll get divorced. My dad will forgive me, and I’ll pay you—lots. You’ll finally be able to leave this place, start fresh. Or… I’ll take you with me to the States?”
“Or I’ll end up in prison for fraud,” he cut in dryly. “Sorry. That’s not happening.”
She fell silent, turning away in disappointment. “How long is the drive from Rogosovka to Krasnodar in your junker?”
“About two hours.”
“Wake me when we get there.”
She closed her eyes and got comfortable. Spartacus shook his head slightly and started the engine. As they neared the city, he called out, “You weren’t sleeping, were you?”
“I was.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. Whatever. Where to next? It’s past midnight. I still have to drive back.”
“Do you know Krasnodar well?”
“Well enough.”
“Then take me to a decent hotel. I’ve got money.”
“Hold up. What hotel? Give me your home address and quit messing around.”
“Honestly, I don’t think your ‘vehicle’ will make it.”
“Where is it? Forget Chicago for a second. I’m serious.”