Chapter 21 – Egor
I relaxed into the worn leather armchair with arms folded across my middle and crooked my head to the side, my eyes fixed on the laptop screen in front of me, ignoring the LA skyline and expanse of his broad shoulders almost blocking the view as he typed.
“You’re saying it’s impossible to go back?”
Arlo dropped his glasses with an exasperated sigh and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t the one deep in the shit, and he was feeling that exhausted. Imagine how I felt. I wanted it to end and needed to find a way as soon as fucking possible.
“I didn’t say it’s impossible, Korol . Where you’re concerned, nothing is.” He swore under his breath in a rushed string of Russian. “It was attempted murder. You had a knife pressed to his throat.”
“And yet, somehow, you’re not roped in this when you were right there. That means it’s fucking possible to get this case off the list of things I have to deal with. Why’s that so hard to do, Arlo? Niko’s doing a great job, but there are matters only I can deal with. I have to return to LA, and time is running out.”
“I’m on it.”
I pushed down the growl rising in my throat and resisted the urge to break something. The entire court situation was driving me to the brink of losing the last shred of self-control I had left.
“You’ve been on it for the past three months, Arlo. I don’t want you on it; I want you to fix it. God . How difficult can that fucking be? I’m not going to stand before any fucking judge and jury, Attorney.”
Arlo huffed and combed his fingers through his hair, his expression solemn as he flipped through a stack of documents beside him while reviewing a few options we had left that could prove useful.
While he spoke, I let my gaze dart around the room, from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stretched toward the ceiling, packed tightly with volumes on everything from ancient history to modern philosophy, to the faded Persian rug covering the floor, its intricate patterns worn smooth by years of use.
My eyes landed on the framed photograph on the edge of my desk—a black-and-white snapshot of a younger Kir Yezhov, my grandfather, with a firm hand on the shoulder of a smiling ten-year-old Nikolai. I stood beside them, with a grim line for lips, and remembered how my grandfather had tried to threaten a smile out of me. He’d said family photographs were rare, and we were only ever the same age once. It was best to capture rare moments like those when we could.
It had been taken in the Yezhov mansion back in LA, surrounded by stacks of papers and books. The same mansion that had been passed down to Uncle Boris when my grandfather decided to move back to Moscow. The same mansion I’d entered with a duplicate key, where I’d shot Uncle Boris in his study.
Arlo’s voice brought me back to the present, and I refocused on the screen, my mind sharpening when he delved into one specific option that could solve the legal battle. I straightened in my seat, becoming fully engaged in the conversation.
“What was that?”
He paused. “About Ronan?”
“Yeah, what about him?” I leaned forward. “Any word on him?”
“There could be.” He sighed, wearing the look of a man who was grasping onto hope with everything he could. “That’s if we find him first. I was saying, if we got Ronan to withdraw the charges against you, then there’d be no case.”
My brows formed a V at the center of my forehead. “And how do we get him to do that?”
“ Korol , you’ve got to give me time to put this shit together, okay? I swear, I’m onto something here, and I will make it work. Just...some time. That’s all I need. I’ll think of something and let you know in a matter of—”
“Three days, Arlo. That’s all you fucking get.”
Before he had the opportunity to respond, I disconnected the call and closed the laptop screen. There was no sign of movement or noise, and the house was as quiet as I’d grown accustomed to. But I could smell her, even from a distance, and I knew she was close.
I kicked up my legs, crossed my feet on the edge of the desk, and leaned deeper into the leather seat.
“How long do you plan on staying there?”
She gave it twenty seconds before stepping out of the dark and into the light, walking with caution in her steps as she approached my desk. She’d changed from my casual baggy T-shirt she wore in the morning, which had exposed her sexy legs, to regular black skinny jeans and a sophisticated-looking beige turtleneck sweater that left all her assets to my imagination.
Her hair, long and silken, was swept up in a shiny ponytail; her face had minimal makeup, enhancing the natural beauty of the goddess, and her brown eyes assessed me guardedly.
My lips curved to the side. I still found it hard to believe that the detective from the Los Angeles Police Department, who was hell-bent on ruining my life in prison, now stood in front of me as my wife. Mine.
I might have laughed if I hadn’t found the entire situation with the police and legal department less amusing. A line replaced the curve of my lips as I interlocked my fingers over the thick hoodie shielding my torso.
“What do you want? Came to try another murder technique? Strangling? Suffocation?”
Freya’s jaw moved the slightest, but she kept her calm. She probably understood by now that her anger made no difference. It changed nothing.
“No.” Her throat bobbed, and without my permission, she lowered herself onto the chair across the desk. “I’m sorry, I, um...I overheard your conversation.”
“Interesting.” I took my eyes away from hers, fixing it on the ceiling instead. I was trying to convince myself that looking at her for that long didn’t hurt so much. “Eavesdropping? Perhaps another scheme of yours to get more information to use against me when you are finally free?”
From my periphery, I saw the muscles on her jaw constrict and her fingers curve into the edge of the wood.
“Despite what you think, it wasn’t intentional. I was passing by when I heard your lawyer talking about the case. He was right about the effect of getting Ronan to drop charges or testify in your favor, and I think I can help. When I was working, um, against drug mafias like yourself, my motive was to bring down the Bratva as well as the Irish mob. They’re as bad as....”
She wanted to say me , my people, but allowed the unspoken word to hang in the air.
“In the process, I gathered enough against Ronan to prove he’s an evil schemer and a murderer. He planned to get rid of you and your organization, to crumple everything you’ve built over the years. What I have against him is the kind of evidence you need to get him off your back.”
My head snapped from the ceiling to hers.
From the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t lying, but a laugh rang out of me before I could stop myself. She really did think I was stupid. “ You w ant to help me ? You have evidence against that bastard and want to use it to help me?”
“Yes.” Her head bobbed up and down, and she edged closer on her seat. “It’s a video of him killing someone. It took a lot of work getting that clip. I wanted to use it to make a case against him, to force him out of the United States. It’s in a cloud only I have access to.”
“There’s a catch, isn’t there?” I asked with a smile hanging on my lips. Why would she want to help me? “What’s in this for you?”
Her eager expression morphed to steel, and she leaned back in her chair. The last time she appeared this serious was in the interrogation room, when she gave me ten days to give the order to wrap up our operations in the US and return home. Whatever was coming now had to be good.
“My friend, John. I’ll give you access to this evidence, and you’ll release him. I know you still have him in your custody.”
The smile fell off my face, and I narrowed my eyes at her. She cared. She cared for that asshole, the rescue leader. Irritation seeped into my veins, squeezing the walls of my chest, and I didn’t bother hiding it, even while I questioned myself for giving a fuck.
Grating my teeth, I pulled myself closer to the desk to match her glare.
“You’re not in the fucking position to make a bargain, wife . You forget that I can harm your family if you don’t release the evidence you have against that ginger-haired shitface.”
“Harm them, and I will harm yours.” She wrapped her hand over her belly, and I flinched, retracting.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Her lips curved to the tiniest smirk. “You underestimate me.”
And her eyes meant every word.
Reluctantly, I picked up my phone and called Nikolai, giving him the order in Russian to let the rescue leader go but ensure he kept his mouth shut. Niko expressed his concerns at the sudden change of plan but agreed and ended the call.
“It’s done,” I said to her through clenched teeth and motioned to the laptop. “The evidence. Now.”
Quietly, she stood from her seat, clambered over to my side of the desk, and set to work.
Freya’s fingers flew across the keyboard, her hair brushing against my arm as she leaned in to sign into the cloud storage. The proximity sent a shiver down my spine, her sweet floral scent wafting up and mingling with the air of wood and books in the study. My body tingled, and my heart rate quickened as I struggled to maintain a neutral expression.
As the files loaded, her eyes met mine and fell to my lips for a brief moment. I knew she felt this, too, but neither of us was willing to set our pride aside.
A notification dragged our eyes back to the screen, and she clicked on a video clip.
The grainy footage indeed showed Ronan as he lifted a gun to a man’s head, with his lips twisted in an ugly blood-thirsty snarl, as he fired three rounds in succession.
I recognized that style. I’d used it.
Execution.
If the police laid their hands on this, that would be the end for him. Nothing he would say or do could vindicate him. If we played our cards right, I could return to LA, and Ronan would be out of my life for good. Plus, I could use this to bend him, make him do a thousand of my biddings. The bastard didn’t know what was coming to him.
As the video ended, Freya straightened, and her eyes met mine, the screen casting a pale glow on her profile. I could sense her waiting for my response, maybe a possible outpour of gratitude or my next plan of action. My fascination grew. I couldn’t help but think about how she’d managed to obtain that incriminating video clip. Her skills as a detective were undeniable, and I found myself impressed by her tenacity. Someone with her abilities could be a valuable asset to the Bratva.
Still, I wouldn’t give her what she wanted.
I took a deep breath and pushed myself off the chair, side-stepping her.
“I’ll send this to Arlo. Goodnight.”
Without a word, I left her behind me, not bothering to glance back.