Chapter 13
Keisha hunched over her work laptop. Mateo and Sergei had gone on a dangerous mission to recover it from her apartment. They were taking a huge risk by accessing it, but they didn’t have a choice.
Even more risky, they were at a warehouse that belonged to Kryvaya Stal. The hope was that if anyone was tracking her laptop, it would confuse them by pinging in a spot least expected.
She squinted at scanned documents, words blurring due to fatigue. Maris’s handwriting marked a document.
Forged records.
Evidence.
Sergei leaned against the wall, absently rubbing the spot the bandage covered.
“You need a break,” she said, voice low, rough with worry.
“You too,” he said, accent thick with exhaustion and stress.
She looked away. “We’ll both get it soon. I found what I need.”
She accepted the flash drive from him and then downloaded the damning file she’d located. Billing statements. Offshore accounts. Her hand shook, filing it under Financial Trails.
“When’d you eat last?” Sergei asked, stepping closer, careful of his wound.
“I’m okay, Sergei, drop it,” she said, checking her watch. 4 PM. Six hours on a bottle of water and a breakfast sandwich.
“You don’t always have to be so stubborn.” He set a deli bag in front of her. “Besides, you’ll be mad as hell if I have to carry you out of here.
She took a bite to keep her smart response from spewing out. Turkey and swiss. Her favorite. She wasn’t going to both to ask how he knew.
“They’re still out there,” she said, swallowing, before accepting the bottle of water he held out.
“Pavel, Dmitri, their whole damn network. Even if Tiana is safe—” she waved at files—”they aren’t done.”
Sergei’s jaw tightened. “You’re right. Trafficking is a lucrative business for them.”
His raw truth steadied her. He knew Kryvaya Stal, once one of them. Her vision blurred, and she blinked hard.
“Take a second, Keisha.”
“Look at this,” she said, pointing at the screen. “Every third Thursday, fat deposit, withdrawals to six shells, new kid placed in three days.”
He leaned over. “Lines up with my info,” he said, tracing numbers.
“Yeah.” She met his eyes. “Your tips, Maris’s leaks, my audits. We can sink Coastal Futures.”
“Pavel’s got judges,” he said, doubt flickering.
“Not every one.” She closed the file. “One decent prosecutor’s enough.”
Her hands shook worse. Sergei saw, but stayed quiet.
Then she froze when she came across a familiar name.
Amara.
Keisha exhaled heavily. “She’s one of them,” she whispered as she studied the email.
Sergei scanned it, jaw tight. “Been at it a while, looks like.”
“I think we have what we need. Now, what do we do with it?”
“Leave that to me,” Sergei replied.
* * *
A few hours later, they were at a warehouse when, a Latin man walked up. One who had just as many tattoos as Sergei and seemed just as dangerous.
“Rivera,” Sergei greeted.
“Lisowski, what have you got for me.”
Sergei looked at her and gave a brief nod.
Keisha held out the flash drive. “Everything on there is in chronological order outlining the Coastal Future’s trafficking scheme,” she said. “Their financials, forgeries, emails.”
Rivera flipped around the bag on his back, then pulled out a laptop. It didn’t take him long to boot up and start scanning the info on the drive.
“This is solid stuff,” he said. “How’d you get it?”
“I have my sources, but these are files from my job,” Keisha said.
“You’ll testify?”
“If I have to.” She didn’t like the idea, but she might not have a choice. “The offshore accounts tie to Dmitri.”
Rivera let out a low whistle. “You’ve done your digging.”
“It’s for the kids.” She pointed in his direction. “Sixteen kids through Coastal, last year. Bogus checks, skipped rules.”
He frowned, turning a page. “Ties to the docks trafficking?”
“Same network, different arm.” Keisha frowned. “Pavel runs it all, but Dmitri does the heavy lifting. Society moves kids across borders.”
“Their reach is wide,” Rivera said. “Last year’s gunrunning?”
“Yup.” She breathed slow. “Coastal’s a front.”
Rivera eyed Sergei. “You, Lisowski? Muscle?”
“You know better than to ask,” Sergei said, accent thick, clipped. “I bailed eight years back. Dmitri’s been after me since.”
“Any crimes since that comprise you being a witness to this?” Rivera asked.
“No. Not since I left Belarus,” Sergei said. “Came here to get out.”
Keisha’s chest tightened. His sacrifice was her fault.
“He’s a huge part of the reason why we got this,” she said, voice rushed. “His intel saved Tiana before they shipped her out.”
“This is a team effort?” Rivera flipped notes.
“Yeah,” Keisha said, glancing at Sergei. “His know-how on their tricks.”
Fatigue surged through her, her vision blurring, the metallic taste sharp. She sipped water, hands shaking, taste fading briefly.
“Your visa?” Rivera asked Sergei.
“Expired. Two years.” Sergei stood firm.
“Deportable,” Rivera said. “To Belarus. They’d kill you quick.”
Sergei didn’t answer.
“You angling for immigration help?” Rivera asked.
“Nah,” Sergei said, voice low. “Just want to be done with Dmitri.”
Keisha’s breath caught in her throat. His selflessness hit hard. Her hand shook, pressed to the table. “I’ll vouch for him,” she said, words spilling. “He risked everything for Tiana.”
Rivera studied them. “Hell of a vouch.”
“I’ll arrange for your statements to be taken downtown,” Rivera said, closing his notebook. “Eight tomorrow. I’ll start paperwork tonight. Can you stay safe until then?”
“Yes,” Sergei replied without hesitation.
Rivera put the flash drive aware. “Damn good work. Pavel’s got high-up pals. Once this starts, there’s no turning back.”
He glanced at Sergei. “Your status comes up, I can’t do much.”
Sergei nodded. Keisha swallowed.
“Got it.”
Rivera paused by Sergei, their look heavy, then left. Keisha’s shoulders slumped.
“You didn’t have to vouch for me,” Sergei said, beside her.
“You took a knife for me,” she said, voice cracking. “Paperwork’s nothing.”
His lips twitched, almost a smile. “Fair deal.”
It wasn’t.
She stood, knees shaky, room tilting. “I’m okay,” she lied, when he reached out to steady her.
Sergei’s phone buzzed. He frowned.
“Blocked number.”
He answered on speaker. “Still poking around, eh?” Pavel said, keys clicking, smug.
“What do you want, Pavel?” Sergei asked, voice tight.
“A favor,” he said, keys rapid. “Eighteen hours and your evidence’s gone. All of it. A real shame.”
Sergei stepped close, face hard. “You’re bluffing.”
“Traitor,” Pavel sneered, cold. “Dmitri says your death will be a show for the new blood.”
Keisha’s stomach twisted—his threat real. “You can’t erase it all,” she said. “We got backups.”
“Which can also disappear,” Pavel cut in. “Drop your digging into Coastal Futures. Pretend like you don’t even know it exist.”
Pain drilling her skull, vision tilting. “Or what?”
“Tiana will pay the ultimatum price. Then you. Sergei last, so he watches.”
Sergei’s hand covered hers.
“Pavel,” he said, accent thick, “Minsk. Gregor. My sister. Remember?”
Silence. “Dead man’s threats,” Pavel replied. “Nine tomorrow. Choose wisely.”
The call ended.
“He’s tracking Tiana. We gotta warn Mateo.”
“He is already going to move her,” Sergei said, voice clipped. “Tonight. Somewhere they can’t find.”
She nodded, throat dry. “You should hide, too,” she said at the doors. “Pavel’s got you marked.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Sergei said, scanning the lot as they exited the warehouse. “I need you alive.”
His raw words struck her. Not just the case, him. They crossed to car.
“I’m driving.”
“Okay,” she said, softer.
Sergei’s eyebrows lifted, expecting a fight. Sirens wailed, close.
“Coincidence,” she said, not believing.
“Nah,” Sergei said. “Five minutes, tops.”
“For what?”
“Pavel’s crew to arrive. You ain’t driving.”
Sirens screamed, red and blue flashing. Police lights closed in, bouncing off windows like warnings. Time was up.