Chapter Thirty-Eight
In which betrayal cuts deepest when it's close.
Alexsey…
Dmitri, Roman and I gathered in Dmitri's office this time, glaring at the tiny devices on his desk.
"The same kind as before," Rasia says. Her partner Gennady is standing in the corner, looking gloomy. "They were placed differently this time, like that's going to throw us off. There was one on top of the fridge in the kitchen, the other under your wife's piano seat."
Somehow, the violation of whoever this is touching my wife's prized piano makes me furious, and my hand grips the wooden arm of my chair, knuckles white.
Dmitri glares at me. "Don't break that chair!" he says crossly. "Ava just redecorated this office, so I’ll consider it a personal insult if you damage it."
"So, these had to be placed within the last thirty-six hours," I say, trying to focus.
"That was the span of time from our last sweep," she agreed.
"Thank you both," Dmitri says. "You may go."
Raisa and Gennady speed walk out of Dmitri's office, happy to not to be involved in this next part of the discussion.
"Fuck!"
My glass shatters against the wall.
"Goddammit!" Dmitri shouts, "Did I not just tell you to not break anything?"
"Well, you did just mention the chair," Roman points out helpfully.
"Stop talking, Roman," Dmitri says, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. "Now we know why that shipment got hijacked between Boston and New Jersey this morning."
"What did we lose?" Roman asks. "Sorry, I wasn't in on this one."
"It was primarily high-grade cannabis, heading up to Canada," I say bitterly. Jack MacTavish also generously packed in all the fucking drones they could spare from their last shipment to try to help us meet demand."
"Mother. Fucker." Roman seethes. He looks at me, eyes bright with anger. "We all know who's planting the bugs," he says.
I know what they're going to say, but I keep picturing his gentle expression when he looks at my wife. "Who?" I ask shortly.
"It's Liria's bodyguard, Roan. Obviously." Roman says. "Look at the timeline. All the security breaches started after he was brought into your household. He's one of the few people who could move around there without being noticed."
"We cloned his phone and I found nothing unusual," I protest. "No mysterious phone calls, he hasn't met with anyone in the Albanian community that is considered a risk.
Hell, his favorite spot for his off-duty hours is a fucking independent bookstore, three blocks from our house.
He sits at one of the tables outside with a stack of scones and a book. Hardly double agent material."
"He could be leaving messages or intel inside one of the books for someone else to pick up," Dmitri says. "He's our best lead, brother."
I walk to the windows. Dmitri’s corner office is the very definition of making it, complete with two walls made completely of floor to ceiling glass to give a panoramic view of both downtown and the Hudson River.
"If I hurt him, she'll never forgive me," I say.
"If he's responsible he's been putting our people's lives in danger," Roman says, his tone surprisingly gentle. "She's going to remember that night at the clinic and holding the hand of the boy who died."
"Which would only make it worse for her," I say bitterly.
I press my forehead against the window, staring down at the people briskly making their way down 57th Street, thinking about the emails that still need to be sent or what to pick up for dinner.
I never wanted to be one of them. But right now, an uncomplicated life - where I don't have to kidnap my wife's beloved guard and possibly torture him - sounds pretty goddamned good.
"I'll take care of it," I say, jaw tight.
"Brother -" Dmitri leans forward.
"I said I'll take care of it!"
***
It's close to midnight, and my wife is asleep.
The love of my life who may hate me for the rest of hers, for taking her beloved Roan.
Sliding out of bed, I watch her turn, her hand searching for me in her sleep.
Her left hand, with the plain silver band shining in the moonlight.
I need to get her a better ring. A big, glittering diamond.
The self-loathing is swamping me. I get dressed, head downstairs and check with Tolya.
"Are we ready?"
"Of course," he says. He's sympathetic, I can tell. He knows this could destroy my progress with Liria. But we are both pragmatic. "We'll pick you up first, then Roan."
"I'll call him now," I say, rolling my shoulders. They feel heavy tonight.
Roan's phone only rings twice and he answers, sounding instantly awake.
An admirable quality for a bodyguard.
"Is Liria all right?" he asks.
I overlook his using her first name. "She's safe. She's fine. I need your help with something else. We have an issue with a few of the Albanian guards. I'll be by to pick you up in ten minutes."
"I'll be ready in five," he says.
***
When we step into the basement under Gordi's Sandwich Shop, and Roan finds it empty of Albanians, he knows why we're here. Dressed in one of his dark suits with a white dress shirt and tie, he stands out sharply against the stained cement walls and floor.
"Ah," he says, turning to look at me. "I see that I am the issue?"
Tolya has his gun pressed against the back of Roan's head. "Take your gun out and hand it to me, very carefully."
"Of course," Roan says, moving slowly and he opens his jacket. "I would hate to get blood or brain matter on your sub-standard suit. The poor quality makes it difficult to get out the stains."
Tolya huffs. That cuts deep for a man who loves his suits.
"There's been a string of security breaches over the last couple of months," I say, pushing up my sleeves. I'm wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans, the kind I can burn if necessary. "If you tell me who you're passing the information to, this will be less bloody."
Roan looks resigned. "I don't know anything. I have not betrayed the Bratva. But that's not going to stop you." He doesn't resist when the guards tie him to the chair bolted to the floor.
"Who told you to bug my house?" I say, feeling the fury filling my chest. "Who received the information about the shipments?"
His brow rose. "Ah. That's why you've had them sweeping the loft for devices every day. It was not me."
I sigh and land the first punch, his nose and mouth spraying blood on his clean white shirt. "You know. And you will tell me."