33. Pasha
33
I’m not thrilled about being at work right now. But I need to be doing something to keep my mind occupied.
I check my phone for any texts from Daphne. Just like I checked it two minutes ago. And two minutes before that. There’s nothing, and there’s been nothing, but who knows? At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if a giant pitcher of fruit punch burst through her hotel room wall.
“I’ve got my men watching both places,” Arlo assures me from where he’s seated on my office couch. I think he’s already mentioned that, but he says it again without judgment. “Nothing new to report, but I’ll let you know the second there is something.”
I nod. I’m not feeling up to speaking very much as of late.
Daphne and Tatyanna are staying in the presidential suite of a luxury hotel near my corporate building while a full security sweep and updates are underway at the penthouse. After realizing the full extent of Ewing’s creepy-as-fuck stalking measures—including his stash of half-eaten granola bars in the air ducts—I evacuated us from the building.
What’s eating at me is how Ewing was even able to get that close. Close enough to sneak in. Close enough to slip into my penthouse. My home.
I can’t rest easy knowing that, despite everything, despite all my wealth and resources and expert security personnel, despite all my power…
I still came this close to losing my wife and child.
This fucking close.
“Hey.” Arlo sits down in the chair facing my desk, still calm as ever. “Your mother is with Daphne and Taty. I’m not going to let anything happen to any of them, least of all her. You have my word on that.”
“I know.” I sigh and lean back in my own chair. “And I thank you for that.”
I’m slowly adjusting to the new reality of this man being my mother’s… man. Or whatever he is.
But he’s been faithful and loyal to our whole family, not just Mama. And not just for the sake of business, either.
I hate to admit it, but the more time I spend with Federov, the more he grows on me.
“Sir.” Lev knocks on the door as he opens it. Judging by the grim look on his face, there’s no time for formalities. My stomach twists, my mind flies to Daphne and Tatyanna, but instead, he says, “Senator Brennan is here.”
The pen slips from my fingers and lands on the desk.
I can use a win right about now.
“Send him in.” I straighten out my suit jacket. Arlo barely moves. Except for that eyebrow. The one that keeps twitching whenever he watches something play out.
Senator Scott Brennan, the political phantom eluding my every attempt to wrangle him, slinks into my office at Lev’s beckoning. His eyes are wide, his demeanor unsettled, and he doesn’t proceed in much further until the door closes behind him.
Once he reaches my desk and sees Arlo, however, he freezes altogether.
“I will not speak with him here,” Brennan bluntly states.
Arlo shrugs. “Pity. I’m not leaving.”
I glance between the two. I could make Arlo leave; I’ve been waiting months for this meeting.
But I’ve come to trust him. I want Arlo to measure this senator up and help me figure out what the hell is going on.
“Mr. Fedorov is smoothing out the supply chain issues you so astutely pointed out.” I gesture to the empty chair next to him. “Please, have a seat.”
Brennan barely sits down before he hops back up and paces around the chair. “I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t get a grasp on anyone within the Senate anymore. I’m losing my influence. Something is happening, or has happened, or?—”
“Whoa, whoa. Slow down.” Again, I motion a hand toward the open chair. “Sit. Relax. Start from the top.”
He finally does sit down. Or, more accurately, throws himself into the chair with a huff and a sigh. “I used to have the ear of at least half the Senate. I’d say ‘jump,’ they’d ask me how high and how much would it cost their constituents. But now…?”
Arlo glances at me. I pretend to not notice the sweat forming on Brennan’s brow. “Now?”
“Now, it’s like I’m not even there! I’m shut out!” He mutters more to himself as he rubs the bridge of his nose. “They know something. They’re onto something. I’m being shut out and shunned and I don’t know why.” Sucking his teeth, he risks a low-lidded look at me. “I think they know what I’ve been up to. What I’ve been doing behind…” He glances at Arlo. “Well, you know.”
“I don’t know, Senator. Those are your issues, not mine.”
“They’re your issues when they impact that little contract of yours.”
I plaster on a fake smile and spread my hands wide. “Do I look like I’m in politics? Hardly. I make the weapons, I secure the supply chain, and I ensure deliveries to the military. You’re the politician; you handle the politics.”
Brennan doesn’t have anything to say to that. He’s still casting sidelong glances at Arlo, who is examining his fingernails as if nothing of interest is happening.
“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you… what do you know about Stewart Hamish? Or his wife, Ophelia?”
As soon as I ask the question… there it is.
There’s the answer I’ve been looking for.
It’s the way he freezes. The way he glances around the room looking for an escape route that isn’t here. The way that sweat starts trickling down his brow and he barely notices.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he wheezes after a painful stretch of silence.
“No? Are you sure?” I lace my fingers together in front of me. “He used to work for me. As a matter of fact, he was Chekhov International’s board president before my father’s passing. I’m sure you’ve rubbed elbows once or twice, no?”
They have. I can see it plain on his face. Those microexpressions of surprise, then fear, then a strained effort to hide everything.
“I ask because they’ve been causing me a lot of trouble recently. Around the same time you’ve been having trouble with your colleagues, funnily enough. I’d hate to think the two are related in any way.”
Brennan shrugs. “I don’t know why they would be.”
“So no blackmail? No threats from Stewart Hamish?”
Again, he shakes his head. “No. Never heard of the guy.”
He doesn’t know that right in front of me, in the desk drawer beneath my hand, is a stack of papers proving otherwise. Photos of him meeting with Stewart and shaking hands. Transcriptions from golf course reconnaissance recordings. Video stills from secret meetings at hotels in the next city over.
“You’re sure about that?”
It’s almost cruel making Brennan sit here and perspire himself half to death. I could do both of us a favor and put him the rest of the way out of his misery. The gun is right next to Makari’s reports on him.
Arlo wouldn’t stop me. Hell, he’d help me hide the body.
But we haven’t reached that point quite yet. Brennan can still be useful to me with breath in his lungs.
I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger if that changes, however.
“Well then.” I offer him an easy smile. It makes him flinch. Good. “You’ll let me know if they give you any trouble, yes?”
His hands are shaking when he grips the armrests. “Yes, yes. Of course.” He pushes himself upright. “I should go.”
I don’t stop him. Neither does Arlo. Brennan leaves through the main office door and almost takes a left toward the elevators, but seems to change his mind about being seen and opts for the private stairwell on the right instead.
As if someone here may be looking for him.
Arlo glances at me. “That man is a liability.”
“I agree.” I stare at the door before shifting my focus to him. “What would you do, in my position?”
He’s silent for a long moment. Then: “I’d kill him.”
My brow arches. “Yeah? I almost did. It was very tempting.”
“He’s too much of a wild card. Not just for you or the business, but for his own people.” Arlo waves a hand in the air and makes a face. “These Americans, they vote for who they want and it’s a roll of the dice on who they get. But this guy? Who is he helping?”
“If he vanishes, people will go looking for him. He’s too much of a public figure.”
“So then he doesn’t vanish. He’s an older man with libertine tastes. His kidney could give out any second, for all anyone knows.”
I snort. “Will his kidney give out?”
Arlo smirks. “With the right help, anything is possible.”
I like his style. I also make a note to keep a closer eye on him, just in case. “I need to focus my energies and resources on keeping my family safe.”
“Are these issues not one and the same?” That eyebrow of his drifts upward once again. “So long as the senator lives, he’s a beacon for disaster. Best not tempt him near those you truly cherish.”