3. Brooke
I’m going crazy with worry.
After being ushered out of the ER, I’m stuck in my hospital room with a detective who wants to know everything I witnessed.
“Please, do you know anything about Lev or Igor?” I beg him.
But the man standing by my bed doesn’t care that I’m losing my mind with worry. He’s here to grill me, whether I like it or not.
His name is Detective Blaine Zell, or so he said when he found me crying in the ER and promptly dragged me to my hospital room, telling me I wouldn’t be leaving until I gave him a statement.
Five minutes with him and I already don’t like him. Since we got back to my room, he’s been talking to me like I’m guilty of something.
“Please, you must know something. Are Lev and Igor okay?”
I’m so desperate for news I’m ready to cry again.
But something tells me this guy would get off on it.
“How about we go over your story one more time and then we can find out about your friends,” he says, opening up his little notebook again. “So you were at the window when you saw the blast.”
“Yes,” I huff.
“And then what did you see?”
“Like I’ve already told you, I saw Lev lying on the ground and a man in a hoodie walking toward him with his gun aimed.”
“But this mysterious figure didn’t fire the gun.”
“No.”
“Just pointed it at Mr. Zarkov but didn’t shoot?”
Oh my God, douchebag, how many times do we need to go over it?“No.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“I know why he didn’t, it was because two of Lev’s men disturbed him when they ran outside, and he walked off.”
Detective Zell, a smarmy know-it-all who looks like he might be in his late forties, narrows his eyes at me.
“Tell me again how you knew they were…” He air quotes, “Lev’s men.”
The fact that he just air-quoted me makes me want to punch him in the face.
“As I’ve already explained, I know Lev, and I know they are employed by him.”
“Remind me, how well do you know Mr. Zarkov?”
This is the second time he’s asked how well I know Lev.
The first time I replied with a vague, “Well enough.”
This time, I reply with, “I’m his fiancée.”
Zell’s eyes light up, and then his lips slide into a smirk, and I immediately realize it was a mistake to tell him. Now he’s going to grill me harder, drill down as far as he can to get to any of Lev’s secrets I might be harboring.
“You’re his fiancée—well, congratulations,” he says with a fake smile. “I didn’t realize the mighty pakhan of the Zarkov Bratva was engaged.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Well, now you do.”
He’s letting me know he’s wise to Lev’s association with organized crime. He’s trying to catch me off guard.
He looks at me like he’s trying to crack a code or something. I have a feeling I’m even more of an interest to him now that he knows I am engaged to Lev.
“So this hooded figure disappears, and you run outside into all that mayhem but get pulled back by the two men we found dead in the corridor leading into the ER. Then all three of you get attacked by a mysterious man dressed like an orderly.” He laughs like it’s ridiculous. “It sounds—”
“Like the truth,” I snap. “Because it is.”
“I was going to say, frightening.”
He wasn’t.
He’s trying to intimidate me. Trip me up so I’ll say something incriminating.
“Listen, can we do this later?” I ask, exhausted by my panic.
“You got somewhere else you need to be?”
“Yes, two people I care about just got blown up.”
“Two? There were three.”
My eyes dart to him. “What?”
“There were three people.”
Who was the third person?
“I overheard a police officer say there were two dead… please, can you tell me if that’s true?”
But he just smirks, clearly enjoying my desperation.
Jerk.
“What are you in the hospital for? he asks.
“That’s none of your business.” I glower at him. “Look, I told you what I saw. About the hooded figure. About the orderly attacking me and those two men. There is nothing else to tell you.”
I throw back the bed covers and swing my legs over the bed. I’m not staying here for another goddamn minute.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Zell snarls.
“Since you repeatedly ignore my requests for information about my fiancé and my friend, then I’m going to find out for myself.”
“Get back into bed,” he growls. But when I don’t, he yells, “I said get back into the goddamn bed.”
I swing around and bare my gritted teeth at him. I’m about to tell this asshole where to go when the door opens, and a very handsome man in a suit walks in.
“Miss Masters?”
I take in his nice suit and shiny shoes. “Yes?”
“Agent Garrett Michaels with the FBI.” He gives me a smile that’s right off the pages of a magazine. Perfect white teeth. Dimples. “Is this gentleman harassing you?”
Immediately, Zell’s back straightens. “What the fuck—?”
“Leave.” The FBI agent doesn’t bother to look at him as he issues his dismissal.
But Zell puffs out his chest, ready to take on the alpha dog that’s just walked into the room. “Now listen here—”
Agent Michaels swings his bright blue eyes in Zell’s direction, and they’re blazing with blue fire. “No, you listen here, you fucking ass. I could hear you squawking like a fucking goose all the way down the goddamn hall. This woman is a witness, not a suspect. You hear me? Now, how about you take your little notebook and pen, and go find someone else to annoy. The FBI has jurisdiction on this case, meaning you’re no longer needed.” He walks to the door and opens it. “That’s your clue to leave, asshole.”
Zell opens his mouth but closes it again when Agent Michaels levels him with a look of warning.
Put in his place, Zell retreats out of the room, looking butthurt. But not before he issues a threat. “You’ll be hearing from my supervisor.”
Which doesn’t faze the FBI agent one bit.
“I look forward to it. Don’t forget to tell him my credentials. Agent Garrett Michaels. Badge number 0266625D.”
He closes the door and turns back to me.
“Thank you,” I say to him.
He gives me a smile. “You okay?”
“No, Lev and Igor were hurt, and possibly a third person, and no one will tell me if they’re alive or dead.” My emotion surges forward, bringing tears. “Please, are they dead?”
My hand slides to my belly.
Bracing myself.
Agent Michaels’ face is all hard lines and a square jaw, but it softens in the presence of my tears.
“Lev is alive and sedated. He’s going to be okay.”
The relief rushes over me like a shower of warm water, and I let out a rough exhale. “Oh, thank God.”
I rub my belly and let out another deep breath.
“And Igor?”
“He’s alive. But he’s critical. The odds aren’t good.”
My relief is quickly followed by a wave of sadness for the friendly giant.
I think of him and Enya in the garden and their stolen glances in and around the mansion. Enya is going to be brokenhearted.
“There was a third person,” Agent Michaels says. “He died instantly. He must have been the one to open the car door and take the full force of the explosion. Do you know who it might be?”
One of Lev’s men?
Lev mentioned he was going to start training a new driver for me. Could it be him?
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
“Identification is going to be difficult. Considering he’s in parts in the morgue.”
I frown at Agent Michaels’ insensitivity. But I figure you’d have to be a little desensitized as an FBI agent.
“I need to see Lev and Igor,” I say, sliding off the bed and reaching for a blanket to wrap around my shoulders.
“You need to rest,” Agent Michaels says. “It’s been a big twenty-four hours, and you’ve got the baby to think about.”
I spin around to look at him. “How do you know I’m pregnant?”
He smiles and it’s not as nice as it was when he first walked in. Now it seems a little… fake. “I’m the FBI. I know everything about you, Brooke Rachael Masters, born June 20 to Ivy and Michael Masters.”
My spine begins to tingle, and I swallow thickly. I don’t think Agent Michaels is the ally I thought he was. “What do you want?”
“I just want to talk.”
“I need to see Lev.”
I try to move past him, but he puts out a hand to stop me.
“In time, you can see him, but before then, you and I need to talk.”
Frustrated, I snap. “Sorry, but I’m all talked out about the explosion tonight.”
I’m going to find Lev, and no one, not even this blue-eyed titan, is going to stop me.
“I don’t want to talk about the explosion,” he says, removing a tray of nicotine gum from the breast pocket of his jacket and popping a piece of gum into his mouth.
I look at him, surprised. “You don’t?”
He shakes his head, and those bright blue eyes sharpen on me.
“No, Miss Masters. I want to put Lev Zarkov behind bars for his crimes. And you’re going to help me do it.”