59. -58-
Nina
Ishifted my gaze between the computer screen and Lucas’s shocked face, my mouth hanging open.
We’d eavesdropped on the whole conversation.
I was worried about Dorian, and Lucas listened to my pleas and connected me to the hospital feed.
He worked in his new den on locating my father’s men, so I would know who hunted me while I watched my husband having a mental breakdown.
But everything shifted when Malin woke up and revealed his involvement in the disappearance of a five-year-old boy, who was related to Matilda Santangelo.
“Do you know who the other biker is?” I asked, piecing together a plan.
“A criminal,” Lucas replied, scowling at the screen. “His rap sheet reads like a horror story. Rape, abuse, bar fights, DUI, you name it, he’s done it.”
“A true saint, right?” I deadpanned, looking at the mug shot. “Why would Malin be chasing him?”
“We don’t know if he was chasing him,” Lucas objected, and I exhaled exasperatedly.
“Fine.” I stood and started pacing in front of the desk because I couldn’t sit still. “Why would Malin be interested in him?”
“Because he’s known for kidnapping people for high sums of money,” Lucas answered. I rounded the desk to see what he found.
“It’s officially labeled as a disappearance. You really think someone actually paid to kidnap a five-year-old?” I raised a doubtful brow, but my best friend had an answer for everything.
“Yes. Children are valuable. Especially the ones no one cares about.” He opened another window on the screen. “But I’ve only heard about the cases when the children were in the system. This is the first time that the kid from a wealthy family disappeared.”
My stomach tightened. Weeks ago, Matilda Santangelo told me about her missing cousin. Her aunt couldn’t have children, so she adopted a little boy ten months earlier. Then one afternoon, he simply vanished.
“You know why Malin is neck-deep in this, right?” Lucas asked, disturbing my thoughts. I looked at him with a scowl. “It’s Amelia Santangelo’s nephew.” He flashed me a pointed look when I didn’t react. “Amelia Santangelo. Her sister adopted that boy.”
“Oh.” I blinked at him in confusion. Then it clicked. “Oooooh.”
Amelia Santangelo was the only woman anyone had ever linked to Malin romantically. But she was married, and if the affair continued, war between the Zhumagulovs and the Five Italian families was inevitable.
My grandpa had told me about this. Malin and Amelia were forced to break up, but eight months later, Matilda was born, leaving the question unanswered. Was Malin Matilda’s father?
“We need that file,” I said, tapping my fingers against the desk.
“I’d ask a different question.” Lucas turned to me in his chair. “Why would Malin give the file to the police?”
I frowned—good point as always.
“And more importantly,” he continued, pointing at the screen, “why give it to the detective who made a career out of putting mafia bosses behind bars?”
“Seriously?” I leaned closer to see better as Lucas scrolled down Detective Mallory’s record: Forty-year-old decorated officer.
No husband. No kids. No life outside the police station.
She lived for her job, and the arrests proved it.
She helped put down the Irish mafia in Boston.
Three bosses were in jail, and one more awaited a trial.
“This woman is here to investigate some major shit,” Lucas said, nibbling his pen. “It’s because of Zyon and the deaths of the heads of the Italian Five Families.” I looked at him, horrified. “Think about it. She put four bosses behind bars, and now she’s here? That’s not a coincidence.”
“Malin has a plan,” I deduced, straightening up. “He wouldn’t trust someone like her without a reason.”
Lucas frowned.
“You think he wants her chasing something else?”
“I think,” I smiled, “he wants her looking exactly where he wants her to look. That asshole is a genius.”
Lucas nodded in agreement, checking the email notification, so I took my phone and texted Dorian.
Nina: I’ll help you with the file.
The reply came in an instant.
Handsome husband: Not a chance.
Before I could second-guess myself, I typed a sharp reply.
Nina: You trust a stranger more than your wife?
My eyes narrowed at the words. Not my best moment, but the meaning stayed.
Handsome husband: I care for you more than anyone else.
A huge smile split my face.
Nina: Sweet . Now, where’s Malin’s office?
He left me on read. My temper rose dangerously high. Fine. If Dorian wouldn’t tell me, I’d ask the only person who could.
“I need to visit Malin,” I announced in a voice that took no objection. “Alone.”
Lucas drifted his gaze from the computer, glancing at me as if I had asked him to arrange a meeting for me in the Pentagon.
“Impossible,” he replied curtly. “The entire neuro team is in his room. His mother is waiting outside, Dorian is running around the floor, and Zyon is on his way.” He leaned back in his seat with a resigned expression. “Unless you can walk through walls, you’ll have to wait.”
I grabbed my purse, keys, and phone, and turned to him on my way out.
“You have half an hour until I reach the hospital to clear the way.” I waved at him with a broad smile.
“Nina…” he groaned.
“Be creative.”
The drive to the hospital took twenty-three minutes. Lucas spent twenty-two of them typing furiously.
“You’ve got exactly four minutes,” he announced the moment I parked outside the hospital. “Not a second more.”
“Four?” I kicked the door shut. “Why four?”
“Because,” he clicked his tongue, “the neuro team is about to discuss Malin’s condition with the family. And,” he paused dramatically, “Jessica Ryan just received an urgent call about a cyberattack on the hospital servers.”
“Cyber—”
“There is no cyberattack,” he said, sounding suspiciously proud of himself. “I’m buying you time. Four minutes, Nina.”
“That’ll do,” I confirmed, stealing a file from the nurse’s desk.
I ended the call and hurried toward the elevator. The doors opened directly onto the fifth floor, and instantly, two Zhumagulov bodyguards looked my way.
Shit! Not the same men as the last ones.
The plan of action was formed before I took another step.
“Miss.” One guard raised a thick black brow.
“I need to go inside.” I pointed at the double door.
“Doctor Zhumagulov instructed us not to let anyone through,” he said, not moving an inch.
“I know.” I smiled weakly, faking nervousness. “But I’m his new assistant. We haven’t met yet. I’m bringing his brother’s results for the meeting.”
I waved the file in front of his face. The older guard exchanged a look with the younger one. They surely knew which meeting I was talking about.
“Turn around and spread your arms and legs,” the older one commanded, and my brows shot up in surprise. “Quick checkup. What if you’re carrying a gun?”
He cast me an expectant look, and I smiled awkwardly.
“Oh, okay.”
His hands on me felt like ice, but he did his job quickly.
“Clear,” he said to his colleague and turned to me. “Next time, don’t be late.”
“Of course,” I offered him my best grateful smile. “Thank you.”
I hurried toward Malin’s room, but before reaching it, another obstacle emerged. A nurse carrying medication rounded the corner so abruptly that we nearly collided.
“Oh!” She blinked at me. “Visiting hours are—”
“I know.” I gently caught her shoulders before she could finish. “Could you please tell Dr. Watson they’re looking for him in trauma?”
Her forehead wrinkled.
“They are?”
“I just passed someone asking.” I pointed toward the door. She immediately rushed outside.
“Two minutes,” I muttered and slipped into Malin’s room before fate found another way to stop me. I quietly closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a brief second, listening for footsteps in the corridor.
“What are you doing here?” Malin asked, his voice tired and his eyes closed.
“Where’s the file you told Dorian about?” I asked, not wasting a second explaining. “I can deliver it to Detective Mallory for you.”
Malin’s eyes snapped open, and he turned his head toward me.
“You’re a Valentino,” he said after a pause. “It’s too risky.”
“No one will see me,” I reassured him, checking my watch. “You know I can pull this off without revealing my identity.”
“Dorian?” he asked, as if he'd suspected the answer before it left my mouth.
“Doesn’t know about it.” I shrugged. “But I don’t take orders from anyone.”
“And,” he exhaled, the exhaustion slowly winning over his concentration. “What do you want in return?”
For a second, I hesitated.
“Acceptance,” I replied carefully, holding his tired look. “You know how hard it is for people like us to fit in.”
“People like… us?” he mumbled, inhaling deeply.
“Murderers,” I clarified.
“I prefer… protectors.”
“Softer term, same meaning.” I walked to the side of the bed. “Part of the package is great skills to accomplish the mission.”
“You’re good,” he confirmed quietly, as if he was ashamed to admit someone impressed him. “Backup?”
“That’s taken care of,” I said, tapping on my watch. “I don’t have much time. If Dorian finds me here, the deal is off.”
Malin stared at me as if he were trying to read my soul. Yet all he could see was a determination to help him.
“If you get caught—” he whispered, but I quickly interrupted him.
“I won’t.” I almost grasped his hand, but stopped myself because he hated physical touch. “Just tell me where the file is. I’ll deal with the rest.”
“If you fail…” he gripped my hand in an iron grip, surprising me, “the boy will die.”
“Malin,” I ground out, leaning closer so that even if someone walked in, they wouldn’t hear me. “Matilda and Diana Santangelo are my friends. I spent countless days with them and Amelia.” A flicker of sadness crossed his face at the mention of her name. “I want to help save that boy, too.”
He held my determined look for another long moment before he exhaled in defeat.
“Queens. The access code is four zeros.”
“Seriously?” I straightened to my full height, glaring at him. “We don’t have time to play hide and seek.”
“Take it or leave it, Nina.” His lids fell shut, and he pointed with his long finger toward the door. “Now go. Dorian will have my balls if he knew about this.”
He was right, of course. Not only were his balls at stake here.
Three minutes later, I turned on the ignition in my car and dialed Lucas’s number.
“Did you hear all of that?” I asked when he picked up after the first ring.
“I have the address.”