Chapter 19
nineteen
“Are you finally going to explain what the hell Christian was doing with all that cash?” Dima sits down in the seat across from me, beer in his hand. After Dante and his men left, we all went back to Matthias’s building to unload the money into the large vault he has beneath the structure.
The entire room sits under the parking garage, almost completely cut off from the rest of the building. The only way to access it is either through the secret cargo entrance a few blocks down or the discreet set of stairs concealed beneath a grate in the floor of the garage.
My husband is the Russian version of Batman.
Just more of an asshole.
And sexier.
Fuck. Now I’m imagining him in a bat suit doing naughty things to me.
Focus, Ava, focus.
He’s a douchebag.
A liar.
A douchebag.
It’s worth repeating twice.
“I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that she said it was stolen American money.” Seamus shakes his head, his mind trying to grasp the reality that we have millions of dollars sitting thirty or so levels below our feet. “I mean, come on, how would anyone steal that much American money?”
“And how did it get overseas?” Nikolai asks, setting a glass of wine in front of me. “There’s what? Four or five million dollars down there? How does anyone transfer that overseas without being noticed?”
“Oh, it was noticed,” I inform them, enjoying the mild fruity notes of the Lambrusco as its slides down my throat.
Damn, that’s good. “At the beginning of the war in the Middle East, the US Government shiped billions of dollars overseas in the form of fives, tens, and twenties, all cash. It’s sent to help with reconstruction.
Schools. Homes. Businesses. And, of course, a decent bribe or two. ”
“Billions?” Dima perks up in his seat. “With a b?”
I nod.
“How do you know all this?” Matthias asks curiously. “That’s a lot of secretive information for someone locked in a gilded cage nearly her whole life.”
I grin over at my husband, who sits across from me at the table. It isn’t round like the one in the bunker, but rectangular and large enough to accommodate his men and most of Liam’s.
“Even gilded cages have wi-fi,” I tell him. “Plus, Elias never kept much a secret from me. He talked openly, believing he had complete and utter control over me. His mistake, really. Something to be learned from.”
Matthias’s eyes flash with something I don’t quite recognize, but I see the anger behind the gray storm clouds at being compared to Elias. Kiernan coughs uncomfortably as the tension between us heats and crackles like a summer storm.
“Why cash though?” Leon taps his chin thoughtfully. “Ward Enterprises under the control of Dashkov is a billion-dollar company. Why is the cash so important?”
“Because cash can’t be tracked.” I lean back in my chair, wine glass in hand, my fingers dancing along the crystal as I silently tap out the beat to Renegade by Styx.
“Sure, money is money, but cash is its own ball game. These are untraceable small bills. Perfect for bribes, drugs, guns…” I look over at Liam, who is completely at ease sitting in his chair, ankle on one knee as he taps on the glass of his beer bottle too.
I always wondered where I got that habit from.
Some things are just innate.
His emerald eyes meet mine, sensing me staring at him. His brow furrows as I study him.
“Ground shipping companies,” I finish rattling off as I draw my gaze away from my biological father.
I’m not about to ask him about that—not when he nearly blew the top of his head at the mention of Marianne somehow being complicit in my mother’s kidnapping.
How would he react if I call out the man who’s supposed to be his father-in-law?
“Think of what else that money could buy.” Vas slowly releases a long breath.
“Christian would have every politician in his pocket with money like that. The gaming commission. The new mayor—if he’s just as bad as the old one.
He could’ve taken over more than half the underground, and we would never have been the wiser for it. ”
Fuck.
That’s the general mood of the room as we all let that revelation sink in. If we hadn’t intercepted this shipment, it would’ve meant the end for the Bratva and the Irish mob. They would’ve lost suppliers, runners—everything. People trade loyalties when there’s cash involved.
“All right.” Liam stands from the table, stretching.
“The container might not have been what we thought it was, but that doesn’t change the plan.
We can still move forward with finding out who is funding Christian, and the best way to do that is to schmooze the top players at the annual charity gala in two weeks.
Meanwhile, we’ll all keep gathering information. Keep our spies busy.”
We all nod and stand, clearing away our empty bottles and glasses. As I reach for my coat, Vas frowns down at me.
“Why don’t you stay, Ava?” he asks. “This is your home, and honestly, we could use you around here.”
Home.
This isn’t my home. It’s another prison. Another cage. I’m not na?ve enough to believe it’s ever been a home for me.
“I don’t think…” I begin, my eyes searching out Matthias, who doesn’t bother to look at me. I expect him to say no. To adamantly refuse—but he remains silent, his body turned toward Maksim, who speaks to him in low tones.
“Good idea, Vasily.” Liam smiles and clamps one of his large, tattooed hands down on my shoulder. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. I pull my gaze from my husband to my biological father. He’s smiling, green eyes lit with mischief as he stares down at me.
“Do you not want me to come back?” I whisper so no one else hears. “Did I do something wrong?”
Is this because of Marianne? Does he not want me around anymore because of what I say? Do I lose him that easily? Before we even get to know one another?
“We need a liaison,” Liam whispers back. “You’re the best choice. Plus, I think it’s time you stop running. Don’t you?”
Running? Who’s running?
I’m not.
Running implies a slowness I don’t possess. Fuck. I’m not running from anything. I’m bolting. Like the Flash or Superman. Speed of light. Not fucking running. Running is for pussies.
I’m not a pussy. I’m a strategist.
That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.
“I’d make a horrible liaison,” I tell him truthfully. Liam shrugs.
“Guess we’ll find out.” He kisses the top of my head affectionately before walking away, giving Seamus and Kiernan time to say their goodbyes.
“I’ll talk to Vas about continuing your training while you’re here,” Kiernan tells me. “Can’t have you slacking. You still need a lot of work.”
“Gee thanks,” I grumble as he hugs me. “I’ll remember that next time you tell me to take it easy on you.”
Kiernan laughs.
“Don’t worry.” Seamus winks at me. “You won’t get rid of us so easily. We’ll be around, big sis. And don’t think I didn’t notice you discharge your weapon improperly at the port. You’ll regret that when you come back.”
I let out a watery laugh and hug him tightly. I don’t feel like the big sister here. They’ve looked out for me these past few weeks. We aren’t very far apart in age, but I pride myself on being called a big sister. Especially after letting Libby down.
I’ll make sure that never happens again.
The door shuts behind Liam’s men, and I’m left standing alone with Matthias. Vas and the others already made their excuse and disappeared—shitty excuses, really. It’s not a secret they’re trying to get us alone.
“I’ll sleep on one of the couches,” I tell him, breaking the tense silence. “Make it easier on both of us.”
I don’t tell him the real reason I want to sleep in the living room is because the only open room is my old one. The one Libby slept in. Where her things are left untouched. There’s no going back in there. Not for me.
Too many memories.
Too much heartache.
I won’t let him see me cry over it, again. He probably thinks I am weak for crying after the gunfire at the port. I can’t afford for him to think of me like that.
“I’ve got business most nights.” Matthias’s low voice makes my body thrum with electricity. Knock it off, Ava. “You can sleep in our bed. I won’t be joining you.”
Our bed. He still calls it our bed. Not his.
“Okay,” I murmur as I start toward the hallway that leads to the master suite.
“Oh, and Ava.”
I turn back at the sound of my name. Matthias’s face is drawn into a scowl, eyes narrowed.
“Don’t expect to be staying too long.”
Well, fuck.
So much for being home.