Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Your office.
“What?”
Dmitri is waiting for me in my office with several other men, and the looks on their faces send a shiver of dread down my spine.
My second-in-command takes in my still-wet hair, the joggers, and T-shirt, and his mouth settles into a hard line. I’ve rarely seen such anger in his eyes, the cords in his neck standing out as if everything in him is clenched, taut as steel. The other men exchange glances.
“Are you going to tell me, or will I have to guess with a game of Charades?” I want to get back to Eva, and it makes me short-tempered.
“Pakhan,” one of them begins, then hesitates.
“Spit it out,” I snap.
“Evgeny. It’s…” Dmitri takes a deep breath. “It’s Vasya.”
A warning bell goes off in my head, instantly drowning the annoyance. “What about Vasya? Is he dead?”
Had Tsepov gotten to him? I would rip that bastard’s throat and heart out with my own hands if he—
“No, Evgeny.” Dmitri comes closer, puts his hand on my shoulder, and looks me in the eye. “It’s Vasya, brother. One of the cops we’re paying traced the sale of the burner phone that kept calling Jordan, the one that texted him to meet at the warehouse, and from there found video footage of Vasya buying a phone around the same time.”
I suck in a breath, my mind unable, unwilling, to grasp the implications. “It’s a coincidence.”
Dmitri shakes his head once, the look in his eyes regretful but hard. “No, brother. It’s not. The bullets they pulled from Jordan’s body match his Glock 48. The cop also pulled footage from Eva’s accident, and one of our guys found several videos online. The car that hit Eva’s? It was Vasya’s. He never tried to brake.”
The world freezes, grows cold and narrow and gray.
“No.” It wasn’t Vasya. I’m sure of it. There is no way the man who is as close to me as a brother would try to harm Eva and go so far as to kill her brother.
My Eva.
“Boss, I’m sorry.”
One of the men steps forward, holds out a tablet with information from the police officer on our payroll, and shows me the videos of Vasya buying the phone, the text messages he sent from it. The videos and still images show a black Range Rover t-boning Eva’s car, sending it spinning across the intersection in images that make me nearly blind with rage.
And there, in an image from the camera at the intersection, moments before the Rover struck Eva’s car, is Vasya through his front windshield, his face a terrifying mask, his eyes on only one target.
The world shifts under me, cracks beneath my feet, and sends me tumbling into an abyss.
“Find him.” The words are a snarl in the back of my throat. “Find him and bring him to me. Don’t kill him. I will deal with him.”
“Yes, boss.”
The men file out quickly. Dmitri gives me one look, his jaw tightening, and leaves, pulling the door closed behind him.
My harsh breath is the only sound in the room, my shoulders heaving, my entire body clenched as tightly as my fists.
One of your men betrayed you.
I would watch your back because you never know who’s coming for it.
My roar of rage echoes through the room.
32
EVA
The restaurant is still festooned with garlands and red-and-silver baubles, some hand-painted with traditional figures. Someone added a silver garland that winks in the lights, bright against the deep-green velvet, dark wood, and low light that somehow reminds me of my father.
He has yet to call or ask Marco about me, not even over the holidays my brother and sister spent with us. Nor does he acknowledge me when I pick up or drop off Katie to spend time with me and to get her away from our father and his downward spiral.
And now I’m here, standing among Evgeny’s “family.” Russian floats around me, and a musician wanders with a balalaika, singing folk songs.
It’s like something out of the movies, with tables loaded with plates of food, champagne and vodka flowing freely, tough Russian mobsters with tattoos and scars talking and laughing. Evgeny made them toss their cigarettes and cigars the minute we arrived, and everyone obeyed with only a few grumbles.
Evgeny holds absolute sway here. I’ve watched him most of the night and seen how everyone skirts around him with friendly deference, respect, and a bit of apprehension. They extend those same courtesies to me.
“Ponchiki?”
An older woman whose name I think is Maria offers me little cheese donut balls, but I’ve been introduced to too many people tonight to remember them all.
“No, thank you,” I say. I’ve spoken more Russian tonight than I have in a long time.
I’m exhausted, but I’m enjoying myself.
“You should eat. Keep up your strength for the babies.” She pushes the tray at me, and I finally take one of the donuts. She smiles and turns away to press food on someone else.