Unworthy by Vanessa Hall

Author:Vanessa Hall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian fiction, Christian romantic suspense, Russia, Missionaries, Espionage, Ballet, Armwrestling
Publisher: Vanessa Hall
Published: 2022-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

Sleep was impossible tonight.

He should’ve talked to Sasha. Should’ve pulled her close and kissed her until he’d forgotten everything.

No.

Then he should’ve let her talk to him. Pray with him. Maybe she’d be able to lift a prayer heavenward on his account.

He dropped his head into his hands, the bed squeaking under his weight.

A better idea would’ve been refusing to brush Gabe off when he’d called several hours ago. Every word had been a lie, but at least the phone had disguised any variance in his voice.

And it was better than the man showing up at his door. Surely Sasha wouldn’t say anything to Sofia ...

Sofia.

An ache pulsed through his head.

Ballet.

If only he hadn’t pushed so hard. If only he’d listened to the doctors, to the therapists. If only he’d completed more exercises, two hours a day instead of one, that might’ve strengthened his knee.

He might still be dancing if he hadn’t taken that jump and lost everything.

There’d be no dark, quiet apartment. No metallic tinge of fear. No visions of water pouring onto an American’s face. No memories of a man choking, gasping for breath that was only water.

Genkin or Savenkov should’ve shot him.

How many men had Lavrov abused? How many men had died in that place?

And he’d glibly gone along with it.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The American couldn’t live longer than a few months. What about the man’s family? They probably didn’t know where he was. Or maybe they did, but they could do absolutely nothing to save him.

He pounded his fists into his thighs, and a breath hissed through his teeth.

He’d signed Lavrov’s stupid contract. Accepted the abuse as something necessary for the good of the country. Taken pay, done the dirty work.

He’d justified it all.

“You’ll pay for this, Yurlov!”

He jammed a hand to his aching forehead. He already was—and would for the rest of his life.

Would Lavrov come after him with a load of lawsuits? Probably, but it didn’t matter.

A jagged breath raked over his raw throat. “Forgive me.”

Two words, directed to so many.

To the American and every man who’d been in that place. To Gabe, for the lies. To Sasha, for not being the man she deserved.

Or maybe it was to the Lord in heaven ... if He heard.

His head throbbed in tandem with the beating of his heart, his mouth sticky. The last time he’d drunk was ... early this morning?

Hydration was key, old Konstantin had always said during lessons.

He forced himself to his feet and shuffled to the sink. No need to consider those glorious hours in the studio.

He grabbed a glass from the counter, ducked it under the faucet. The stream of water echoed hollowly, flowing unevenly over the edge of the glass in his shaking hand.

He jammed the faucet off and brought the liquid to his lips. Cool water slid into his mouth, down his throat, soothing the burning.

Everything in this apartment was Lavrov’s, bought and paid for with his first month’s pay and a healthy hiring bonus.

He jerked the glass away, spilling water down his chin, and slammed the glass to the counter.

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